Liberty and Necessity

62. It might reasonably be expected in questions which have been canvassed and disputed with great eagerness, since the first origin of science and philosophy, that the meaning of all the terms, at least, should have been agreed upon among the disputants; and our enquiries, in the course of two thousand years, been able to pass from words to the true and real subject of the controversy. For how easy may it seem to give exact definitions of the terms employed in reasoning, and make these definitions, not the mere sound of words, the object of future scrutiny and examination? But if we consider the matter more narrowly, we shall be apt to draw a quite opposite conclusion. From this circumstance alone, that a controversy has been long kept on foot, and remains still undecided, we may presume that there is some ambiguity in the expression, and that the disputants affix different ideas to the terms employed in the controversy. For as the faculties of the mind are supposed to be naturally alike in every individual; otherwise nothing could be more fruitless than to reason or dispute together; it were impossible, if men affix the same ideas to their terms, that they could so long form different opinions of the same subject; especially when they communicate their views, and each party turn themselves on all sides, in search of arguments which may give them the victory over their antagonists. It is true, if men attempt the discussion of questions which lie entirely beyond the reach of human capacity, such as those concerning the origin of worlds, or the economy of the intellectual system or region of spirits, they may long beat the air in their fruitless contests, and never arrive at any determinate conclusion. But if the question regard any subject of common life and experience, nothing, one would think, could preserve the dispute so long undecided but some ambiguous expressions, which keep the antagonists still at a distance, and hinder them from grappling with each other.

62. Some questions have been eagerly debated since science and philosophy began. One might reasonably expect the disputants to have agreed, at least, on what their terms mean. After two thousand years, one might expect our inquiries to have moved beyond words to the real subject of the dispute. It may seem easy to define the terms used in reasoning precisely. Those definitions, rather than the mere sound of words, could then become the object of further scrutiny and examination. But if we look more closely, we are likely to reach the opposite conclusion. A dispute has continued for a long time and remains unresolved. From that fact alone, we may presume that some expression is ambiguous. We may also presume that the disputants attach different ideas to the terms they use. We assume that the faculties of the mind are naturally alike in everyone. Otherwise, nothing could be more fruitless than reasoning or arguing together. So if people attached the same ideas to their terms, they could not hold different opinions on the same subject for so long. This is especially true when they share their views and each side searches in every direction for arguments to defeat its opponents. Of course, people may try to discuss questions that lie entirely beyond human capacity. These include questions about the origin of worlds or the workings of the intellectual system, or region of spirits. People may beat the air for a long time in such fruitless disputes and never reach a definite conclusion. But if the question concerns a subject of everyday life and experience, one would think that only ambiguous expressions could keep the dispute unresolved for so long. These expressions keep the opponents apart and prevent them from confronting each other's arguments.

63. This has been the case in the long disputed question concerning liberty and necessity; and to so remarkable a degree that, if I be not much mistaken, we shall find, that all mankind, both learned and ignorant, have always been of the same opinion with regard to this subject, and that a few intelligible definitions would immediately have put an end to the whole controversy. I own that this dispute has been so much canvassed on all hands, and has led philosophers into such a labyrinth of obscure sophistry, that it is no wonder, if a sensible reader indulge his ease so far as to turn a deaf ear to the proposal of such a question, from which he can expect neither instruction or entertainment. But the state of the argument here proposed may, perhaps, serve to renew his attention; as it has more novelty, promises at least some decision of the controversy, and will not much disturb his ease by any intricate or obscure reasoning.

63. This has been true of the long dispute over liberty and necessity, and to a remarkable degree. If I am not greatly mistaken, we will find that all people, educated and uneducated alike, have always agreed on this subject. A few clear definitions would have immediately ended the whole controversy. I admit that the dispute has been debated so thoroughly from every side that it has led philosophers into a maze of obscure, misleading arguments. So it is no wonder if a sensible reader prefers not to trouble himself with the question. He can expect neither instruction nor entertainment from it. But the way the argument is presented here may perhaps renew his interest. This approach is more novel, promises at least some resolution of the controversy, and will not tax his patience much with complicated or obscure reasoning.

I hope, therefore, to make it appear that all men have ever agreed in the doctrine both of necessity and of liberty, according to any reasonable sense, which can be put on these terms; and that the whole controversy has hitherto turned merely upon words. We shall begin with examining the doctrine of necessity.

I hope, therefore, to show that everyone has always agreed on the doctrines of necessity and liberty. This holds for any reasonable meaning of those terms. I also hope to show that the whole debate so far has been merely about words. We will begin by examining the doctrine of necessity.

64. It is universally allowed that matter, in all its operations, is actuated by a necessary force, and that every natural effect is so precisely determined by the energy of its cause that no other effect, in such particular circumstances, could possibly have resulted from it. The degree and direction of every motion is, by the laws of nature, prescribed with such exactness that a living creature may as soon arise from the shock of two bodies as motion in any other degree or direction than what is actually produced by it. Would we, therefore, form a just and precise idea of necessity, we must consider whence that idea arises when we apply it to the operation of bodies.

64. Everyone agrees that a necessary force governs all the operations of matter. The power of each cause determines its natural effect so precisely that no other effect could possibly result in those particular circumstances. The laws of nature determine the degree and direction of every motion with equal precision. When two bodies collide, a living creature might as easily arise from the collision as motion of any other degree or direction than the one actually produced. So, if we want a clear and precise idea of necessity, we must consider where the idea comes from when we apply it to the operations of bodies.

It seems evident that, if all the scenes of nature were continually shifted in such a manner that no two events bore any resemblance to each other, but every object was entirely new, without any similitude to whatever had been seen before, we should never, in that case, have attained the least idea of necessity, or of a connexion among these objects. We might say, upon such a supposition, that one object or event has followed another; not that one was produced by the other. The relation of cause and effect must be utterly unknown to mankind. Inference and reasoning concerning the operations of nature would, from that moment, be at an end; and the memory and senses remain the only canals, by which the knowledge of any real existence could possibly have access to the mind. Our idea, therefore, of necessity and causation arises entirely from the uniformity observable in the operations of nature, where similar objects are constantly conjoined together, and the mind is determined by custom to infer the one from the appearance of the other. These two circumstances form the whole of that necessity, which we ascribe to matter. Beyond the constant conjunction of similar objects, and the consequent inference from one to the other, we have no notion of any necessity or connexion.

It seems clear that the scenes of nature might change continually, so that no two events resembled each other. Every object might be entirely new, unlike anything seen before. If so, we would never have gained even the slightest idea of necessity or a connection between these objects. We could say that one object or event followed another, but not that one was produced by the other. The relation of cause and effect would be completely unknown to humanity. From then on, we could no longer draw inferences or reason about how nature works. Memory and the senses would remain the only ways knowledge of anything real could reach the mind. Our idea of necessity and causation therefore arises entirely from the uniformity we observe in nature. Similar objects are constantly found together, and habit leads the mind to infer one from the appearance of the other. These two circumstances make up all the necessity we attribute to matter. Beyond the constant conjunction of similar objects, and the resulting inference from one to the other, we have no idea of any necessity or connection.

If it appear, therefore, that all mankind have ever allowed, without any doubt or hesitation, that these two circumstances take place in the voluntary actions of men, and in the operations of mind; it must follow, that all mankind have ever agreed in the doctrine of necessity, and that they have hitherto disputed, merely for not understanding each other.

If it turns out that all people have always accepted, without doubt or hesitation, that these two circumstances occur in voluntary human actions and mental processes, a conclusion follows. All people have always agreed with the doctrine of necessity. Until now, they have disagreed only because they have not understood one another.

65. As to the first circumstance, the constant and regular conjunction of similar events, we may possibly satisfy ourselves by the following considerations. It is universally acknowledged that there is a great uniformity among the actions of men, in all nations and ages, and that human nature remains still the same, in its principles and operations. The same motives always produce the same actions. The same events follow from the same causes. Ambition, avarice, self-love, vanity, friendship, generosity, public spirit: these passions, mixed in various degrees, and distributed through society, have been, from the beginning of the world, and still are, the source of all the actions and enterprises, which have ever been observed among mankind. Would you know the sentiments, inclinations, and course of life of the Greeks and Romans? Study well the temper and actions of the French and English: You cannot be much mistaken in transferring to the former most of the observations which you have made with regard to the latter. Mankind are so much the same, in all times and places, that history informs us of nothing new or strange in this particular. Its chief use is only to discover the constant and universal principles of human nature, by showing men in all varieties of circumstances and situations, and furnishing us with materials from which we may form our observations and become acquainted with the regular springs of human action and behaviour. These records of wars, intrigues, factions, and revolutions, are so many collections of experiments, by which the politician or moral philosopher fixes the principles of his science, in the same manner as the physician or natural philosopher becomes acquainted with the nature of plants, minerals, and other external objects, by the experiments which he forms concerning them. Nor are the earth, water, and other elements, examined by Aristotle, and Hippocrates, more like to those which at present lie under our observation than the men described by Polybius and Tacitus are to those who now govern the world.

65. As for the first circumstance, the constant and regular occurrence of similar events together, we may perhaps satisfy ourselves with the following considerations. Everyone agrees that human actions are remarkably uniform across all nations and ages. Human nature remains the same in its principles and workings. The same motives always produce the same actions. The same causes lead to the same events. Ambition, greed, self-love, vanity, friendship, generosity, and concern for the public good exist throughout society in varying degrees. From the beginning of the world, these passions have been, and still are, the source of all human actions and undertakings ever observed. Would you like to know the feelings, inclinations, and way of life of the Greeks and Romans? Study the character and actions of the French and English carefully. You cannot go far wrong by applying most of your observations about the latter to the former. People are so much the same in every time and place that history tells us nothing new or strange in this respect. Its chief use is to reveal the constant and universal principles of human nature. History shows people in every variety of circumstance and situation. It also gives us material for our observations, so that we can learn about the regular motives behind human action and behavior. The records of wars, intrigues, factions, and revolutions are collections of experiments. From these, the student of politics or moral philosopher establishes the principles of the subject. In the same way, the physician or natural philosopher learns about plants, minerals, and other external objects through experiments. The earth, water, and other elements examined by Aristotle and Hippocrates are no more like those we observe today than the people described by Polybius and Tacitus are like those who now govern the world.

Should a traveller, returning from a far country, bring us an account of men, wholly different from any with whom we were ever acquainted; men, who were entirely divested of avarice, ambition, or revenge; who knew no pleasure but friendship, generosity, and public spirit; we should immediately, from these circumstances, detect the falsehood, and prove him a liar, with the same certainty as if he had stuffed his narration with stories of centaurs and dragons, miracles and prodigies. And if we would explode any forgery in history, we cannot make use of a more convincing argument, than to prove, that the actions ascribed to any person are directly contrary to the course of nature, and that no human motives, in such circumstances, could ever induce him to such a conduct. The veracity of Quintus Curtius is as much to be suspected, when he describes the supernatural courage of Alexander, by which he was hurried on singly to attack multitudes, as when he describes his supernatural force and activity, by which he was able to resist them. So readily and universally do we acknowledge a uniformity in human motives and actions as well as in the operations of body.

Suppose a traveler returned from a distant country with an account of people unlike anyone we had ever known. These people had no greed, ambition, or desire for revenge. They found pleasure only in friendship, generosity, and concern for the public good. We would immediately recognize the account as false and prove the traveler a liar. We would be just as certain as if the traveler had filled the story with centaurs, dragons, miracles, and wonders. If we want to expose a historical forgery, we can use no more convincing argument than this: the actions attributed to a person are directly contrary to the course of nature, and no human motives could ever lead that person to act so under those circumstances. We should doubt Quintus Curtius just as much when he describes Alexander's supernatural courage as when he describes Alexander's supernatural strength and agility. According to Quintus Curtius, that courage drove Alexander to attack crowds single-handedly, while that strength and agility enabled him to resist them. So readily and universally do we recognize consistency in human motives and actions, as well as in the workings of physical bodies.

Hence likewise the benefit of that experience, acquired by long life and a variety of business and company, in order to instruct us in the principles of human nature, and regulate our future conduct, as well as speculation. By means of this guide, we mount up to the knowledge of men's inclinations and motives, from their actions, expressions, and even gestures; and again descend to the interpretation of their actions from our knowledge of their motives and inclinations. The general observations treasured up by a course of experience, give us the clue of human nature, and teach us to unravel all its intricacies. Pretexts and appearances no longer deceive us. Public declarations pass for the specious colouring of a cause. And though virtue and honour be allowed their proper weight and authority, that perfect disinterestedness, so often pretended to, is never expected in multitudes and parties; seldom in their leaders; and scarcely even in individuals of any rank or station. But were there no uniformity in human actions, and were every experiment which we could form of this kind irregular and anomalous, it were impossible to collect any general observations concerning mankind; and no experience, however accurately digested by reflection, would ever serve to any purpose. Why is the aged husbandman more skilful in his calling than the young beginner but because there is a certain uniformity in the operation of the sun, rain, and earth towards the production of vegetables; and experience teaches the old practitioner the rules by which this operation is governed and directed.

This also explains the benefit of experience gained through a long life and varied dealings and company. Such experience teaches us the principles of human nature and guides our future conduct and thinking. Guided by experience, we learn people’s inclinations and motives from their actions, words, and even gestures. We then use our knowledge of their motives and inclinations to interpret their actions. The general observations accumulated through experience give us the key to human nature. They teach us to untangle all its complexities. Excuses and appearances no longer deceive us. We treat public declarations as attractive glosses put on a cause. We give virtue and honor their proper weight and authority. Even so, we never expect crowds and parties to be perfectly unselfish, though they often claim to be. We seldom expect it from their leaders, and hardly ever from individuals of any rank or position. But suppose human actions showed no consistency, and every observation we could make of them was irregular and anomalous. Then it would be impossible to draw any general conclusions about humanity. No experience, however carefully considered, would ever be useful. Why is an old farmer more skilled at farming than a young beginner? It is because the sun, rain, and soil act with a certain consistency in producing crops. Experience teaches the old farmer the rules that govern and direct this process.

66. We must not, however, expect that this uniformity of human actions should be carried to such a length as that all men, in the same circumstances, will always act precisely in the same manner, without making any allowance for the diversity of characters, prejudices, and opinions. Such a uniformity in every particular, is found in no part of nature. On the contrary, from observing the variety of conduct in different men, we are enabled to form a greater variety of maxims, which still suppose a degree of uniformity and regularity.

66. However, we should not expect human actions to be so uniform that everyone always acts exactly alike in the same circumstances. We must allow for differences in character, prejudice, and opinion. Such complete uniformity is found nowhere in nature. On the contrary, observing how differently people behave allows us to form a greater variety of general rules. These rules still assume some degree of uniformity and regularity.

Are the manners of men different in different ages and countries? We learn thence the great force of custom and education, which mould the human mind from its infancy and form it into a fixed and established character. Is the behaviour and conduct of the one sex very unlike that of the other? Is it thence we become acquainted with the different characters which nature has impressed upon the sexes, and which she preserves with constancy and regularity? Are the actions of the same person much diversified in the different periods of his life, from infancy to old age? This affords room for many general observations concerning the gradual change of our sentiments and inclinations, and the different maxims which prevail in the different ages of human creatures. Even the characters, which are peculiar to each individual, have a uniformity in their influence; otherwise our acquaintance with the persons and our observation of their conduct could never teach us their dispositions, or serve to direct our behaviour with regard to them.

Do human customs differ across times and countries? From these differences, we learn how powerfully custom and education shape the mind from infancy, forming a fixed and established character. Does the behavior of one sex differ greatly from that of the other? Is it from this difference that we learn about the different characters nature has given the sexes and consistently preserves? Does the same person's behavior vary greatly at different stages of life, from infancy to old age? This variation allows for many general observations about how our feelings and inclinations gradually change. It also allows observations about the different principles that guide people at different ages. Even the traits unique to each individual have a consistent influence. Otherwise, knowing people and observing their behavior could never teach us about their dispositions or guide how we behave toward them.

67. I grant it possible to find some actions, which seem to have no regular connexion with any known motives, and are exceptions to all the measures of conduct which have ever been established for the government of men. But if we would willingly know what judgement should be formed of such irregular and extraordinary actions, we may consider the sentiments commonly entertained with regard to those irregular events which appear in the course of nature, and the operations of external objects. All causes are not conjoined to their usual effects with like uniformity. An artificer, who handles only dead matter, may be disappointed of his aim, as well as the politician, who directs the conduct of sensible and intelligent agents.

67. I admit that some actions seem to have no regular connection with any known motives. These actions are exceptions to every rule of conduct ever established for governing people. But how should we judge such irregular and extraordinary actions? To answer this question, we may consider how people generally view irregular events in nature and the workings of external objects. Not all causes are connected to their usual effects with the same regularity. A craftsperson who works only with lifeless matter may fail to achieve the intended result. So may a politician who directs the conduct of beings capable of feeling and thought.

The vulgar, who take things according to their first appearance, attribute the uncertainty of events to such an uncertainty in the causes as makes the latter often fail of their usual influence; though they meet with no impediment in their operation. But philosophers, observing that, almost in every part of nature, there is contained a vast variety of springs and principles, which are hid, by reason of their minuteness or remoteness, find, that it is at least possible the contrariety of events may not proceed from any contingency in the cause, but from the secret operation of contrary causes. This possibility is converted into certainty by farther observation, when they remark that, upon an exact scrutiny, a contrariety of effects always betrays a contrariety of causes, and proceeds from their mutual opposition. A peasant can give no better reason for the stopping of any clock or watch than to say that it does not commonly go right: But an artist easily perceives that the same force in the spring or pendulum has always the same influence on the wheels; but fails of its usual effect, perhaps by reason of a grain of dust, which puts a stop to the whole movement. From the observation of several parallel instances, philosophers form a maxim that the connexion between all causes and effects is equally necessary, and that its seeming uncertainty in some instances proceeds from the secret opposition of contrary causes.

Ordinary people judge things by their first appearance. They attribute the uncertainty of events to uncertainty in their causes. They think that causes often fail to produce their usual effects, even when nothing obstructs them. But philosophers observe that almost every part of nature contains a great variety of forces and principles. These are hidden because they are so small or so far away. Philosophers therefore find it at least possible that differences in events do not come from uncertainty in their causes. Instead, they may come from the hidden action of opposing causes. Further observation turns this possibility into certainty. On close examination, philosophers find that differences in effects always reveal differences in causes and result from those causes opposing one another. A peasant can give no better reason for a clock or watch stopping than to say it does not usually keep time properly. But a skilled clockmaker easily sees that the same force in the spring or pendulum always has the same effect on the wheels. It fails to produce its usual result perhaps because a grain of dust stops the entire mechanism. From observing several similar cases, philosophers form a general principle. The connection between all causes and effects is equally necessary. Its apparent uncertainty in some cases comes from the hidden opposition of contrary causes.

Thus, for instance, in the human body, when the usual symptoms of health or sickness disappoint our expectation; when medicines operate not with their wonted powers; when irregular events follow from any particular cause; the philosopher and physician are not surprised at the matter, nor are ever tempted to deny, in general, the necessity and uniformity of those principles by which the animal economy is conducted. They know that a human body is a mighty complicated machine: That many secret powers lurk in it, which are altogether beyond our comprehension: That to us it must often appear very uncertain in its operations: And that therefore the irregular events, which outwardly discover themselves, can be no proof that the laws of nature are not observed with the greatest regularity in its internal operations and government.

For example, the usual signs of health or sickness in the human body sometimes fail to appear as expected. Medicines sometimes do not have their usual effects, and a particular cause sometimes produces unexpected results. In such cases, philosophers and physicians are not surprised. Nor are they ever tempted to deny that the principles governing the body generally operate necessarily and uniformly. They know that the human body is an immensely complicated machine. Many hidden powers operate within it that are entirely beyond our understanding. The body’s workings must therefore often seem very uncertain to us. So the irregular events we observe outwardly cannot prove that nature’s laws are followed with less than perfect regularity in the body’s internal workings and governance.

68. The philosopher, if he be consistent, must apply the same reasoning to the actions and volitions of intelligent agents. The most irregular and unexpected resolutions of men may frequently be accounted for by those who know every particular circumstance of their character and situation. A person of an obliging disposition gives a peevish answer: But he has the toothache, or has not dined. A stupid fellow discovers an uncommon alacrity in his carriage: But he has met with a sudden piece of good fortune. Or even when an action, as sometimes happens, cannot be particularly accounted for, either by the person himself or by others; we know, in general, that the characters of men are, to a certain degree, inconstant and irregular. This is, in a manner, the constant character of human nature; though it be applicable, in a more particular manner, to some persons who have no fixed rule for their conduct, but proceed in a continued course of caprice and inconstancy. The internal principles and motives may operate in a uniform manner, notwithstanding these seeming irregularities; in the same manner as the winds, rain, clouds, and other variations of the weather are supposed to be governed by steady principles; though not easily discoverable by human sagacity and enquiry.

68. If a philosopher is consistent, he must apply the same reasoning to the actions and choices of intelligent beings. People who know every detail of someone’s character and situation can often explain even their most irregular and unexpected decisions. A person with a helpful disposition gives an irritable answer. But he has a toothache or has not eaten. A dull fellow shows unusual energy in his behavior. But he has just had a stroke of good fortune. Sometimes, even the person who acts cannot explain a particular action, nor can anyone else. Yet we know that people’s characters are generally inconstant and irregular to some degree. In a way, this is a constant feature of human nature. But it applies especially to some people who have no fixed rule for their conduct and act with continual caprice and inconsistency. The inner principles and motives behind their actions may operate uniformly, despite these apparent irregularities. In the same way, winds, rain, clouds, and other changes in the weather are thought to follow consistent principles, though human intelligence and inquiry cannot easily discover them.

69. Thus it appears, not only that the conjunction between motives and voluntary actions is as regular and uniform as that between the cause and effect in any part of nature; but also that this regular conjunction has been universally acknowledged among mankind, and has never been the subject of dispute, either in philosophy or common life. Now, as it is from past experience that we draw all inferences concerning the future, and as we conclude that objects will always be conjoined together which we find to have always been conjoined; it may seem superfluous to prove that this experienced uniformity in human actions is a source whence we draw inferences concerning them. But in order to throw the argument into a greater variety of lights we shall also insist, though briefly, on this latter topic.

69. Thus, the connection between motives and voluntary actions is as regular and uniform as any cause and effect in nature. Moreover, everyone has acknowledged this regular connection. It has never been disputed, either in philosophy or in everyday life. We draw all our conclusions about the future from past experience. And when we find that things have always been connected, we conclude that they always will be. So it may seem unnecessary to prove that we draw inferences about human actions from their observed uniformity. But to consider the argument from more angles, we will also discuss this point briefly.

The mutual dependence of men is so great in all societies that scarce any human action is entirely complete in itself, or is performed without some reference to the actions of others, which are requisite to make it answer fully the intention of the agent. The poorest artificer, who labours alone, expects at least the protection of the magistrate, to ensure him the enjoyment of the fruits of his labour. He also expects that, when he carries his goods to market, and offers them at a reasonable price, he shall find purchasers, and shall be able, by the money he acquires, to engage others to supply him with those commodities which are requisite for his subsistence. In proportion as men extend their dealings, and render their intercourse with others more complicated, they always comprehend, in their schemes of life, a greater variety of voluntary actions, which they expect, from the proper motives, to co-operate with their own. In all these conclusions they take their measures from past experience, in the same manner as in their reasonings concerning external objects; and firmly believe that men, as well as all the elements, are to continue, in their operations, the same that they have ever found them. A manufacturer reckons upon the labour of his servants for the execution of any work as much as upon the tools which he employs, and would be equally surprised were his expectations disappointed. In short, this experimental inference and reasoning concerning the actions of others enters so much into human life that no man, while awake, is ever a moment without employing it. Have we not reason, therefore, to affirm that all mankind have always agreed in the doctrine of necessity according to the foregoing definition and explication of it?

People depend so much on one another in every society that hardly any human action is complete in itself. Almost every action refers in some way to other people's actions, which are needed to fulfill its purpose. Even the poorest craftsperson, working alone, expects at least the protection of the authorities. This protection ensures that the craftsperson can enjoy the fruits of their labor. The craftsperson also expects to find buyers when offering goods at a reasonable price in the market. With the money earned, the craftsperson expects to pay others to provide the goods needed to live. As people expand their dealings and their relations with others grow more complicated, they make broader plans for their lives. These plans include a greater variety of voluntary actions by others. People expect others, when given the right motives, to act in ways that support their own actions. In reaching all these conclusions, people rely on past experience, just as they do when reasoning about external objects. They firmly believe that people, like all the elements, will continue to act as they always have. A manufacturer relies on workers to carry out a job just as much as on the tools used. The manufacturer would be equally surprised if either expectation failed. In short, we use experience to reason about other people's actions so constantly in human life that no one is ever awake for a moment without doing so. Do we not, therefore, have reason to say that all people have always agreed with the doctrine of necessity, as defined and explained above?

70. Nor have philosophers ever entertained a different opinion from the people in this particular. For, not to mention that almost every action of their life supposes that opinion, there are even few of the speculative parts of learning to which it is not essential. What would become of history, had we not a dependence on the veracity of the historian according to the experience which we have had of mankind? How could politics be a science, if laws and forms of goverment had not a uniform influence upon society? Where would be the foundation of morals, if particular characters had no certain or determinate power to produce particular sentiments, and if these sentiments had no constant operation on actions? And with what pretence could we employ our criticism upon any poet or polite author, if we could not pronounce the conduct and sentiments of his actors either natural or unnatural to such characters, and in such circumstances? It seems almost impossible, therefore, to engage either in science or action of any kind without acknowledging the doctrine of necessity, and this inference from motive to voluntary actions, from characters to conduct.

70. Nor have philosophers ever held a different opinion from ordinary people on this point. Almost every action of their lives assumes this opinion. Even among theoretical fields of study, few do not depend on it. What would become of history if we could not rely on historians' truthfulness, based on our experience of human nature? How could politics be a science if laws and forms of government did not have a uniform influence on society? What would be the foundation of morals if particular characters had no definite power to produce particular feelings? And what if those feelings did not have a consistent effect on actions? On what grounds could we use our criticism to judge a poet or other literary author? We could not do so if we could not judge the conduct and feelings of their characters as natural or unnatural for such people in such circumstances. It seems almost impossible, therefore, to engage in any kind of study or action without acknowledging the doctrine of necessity. We must also acknowledge this inference from motives to voluntary actions, and from character to conduct.

And indeed, when we consider how aptly natural and moral evidence link together, and form only one chain of argument, we shall make no scruple to allow that they are of the same nature, and derived from the same principles. A prisoner who has neither money nor interest, discovers the impossibility of his escape, as well when he considers the obstinacy of the gaoler, as the walls and bars with which he is surrounded; and, in all attempts for his freedom, chooses rather to work upon the stone and iron of the one, than upon the inflexible nature of the other. The same prisoner, when conducted to the scaffold, foresees his death as certainly from the constancy and fidelity of his guards, as from the operation of the axe or wheel. His mind runs along a certain train of ideas: The refusal of the soldiers to consent to his escape; the action of the executioner; the separation of the head and body; bleeding, convulsive motions, and death. Here is a connected chain of natural causes and voluntary actions; but the mind feels no difference between them in passing from one link to another: Nor is less certain of the future event than if it were connected with the objects present to the memory or senses, by a train of causes, cemented together by what we are pleased to call a physical necessity. The same experienced union has the same effect on the mind, whether the united objects be motives, volition, and actions; or figure and motion. We may change the name of things; but their nature and their operation on the understanding never change.

When we consider how well natural and moral evidence fit together, we see that they form a single chain of reasoning. We can therefore readily agree that they are of the same nature and come from the same principles. A prisoner with neither money nor influence sees that escape is impossible. The jailer’s stubbornness makes escape seem as impossible as the walls and bars surrounding him. In every attempt to gain his freedom, he would rather work on the stone and iron than on the jailer’s inflexible nature. When the same prisoner is led to the scaffold, he foresees his death with equal certainty from two sources. One is the steadfastness and loyalty of his guards. The other is the working of the axe or wheel. His mind follows a certain sequence of ideas: the soldiers’ refusal to let him escape, the executioner’s action, the separation of head and body, bleeding, convulsions, and death. This is a connected chain of natural causes and voluntary actions. But the mind feels no difference between them as it passes from one link to the next. Nor is it any less certain of the future event than if a chain of causes connected it to what memory or the senses present. Those causes would be joined by what we choose to call physical necessity. The same union, known through experience, has the same effect on the mind. This is true whether the things joined are motives, decisions, and actions, or shape and motion. We may change the names of things, but their nature and their effect on the understanding never change.

Were a man, whom I know to be honest and opulent, and with whom I live in intimate friendship, to come into my house, where I am surrounded with my servants, I rest assured that he is not to stab me before he leaves it in order to rob me of my silver standish; and I no more suspect this event than the falling of the house itself, which is new, and solidly built and founded.—But he may have been seized with a sudden and unknown frenzy.—So may a sudden earthquake arise, and shake and tumble my house about my ears. I shall therefore change the suppositions. I shall say that I know with certainty that he is not to put his hand into the fire and hold it there till it be consumed: And this event, I think I can foretell with the same assurance, as that, if he throw himself out at the window, and meet with no obstruction, he will not remain a moment suspended in the air. No suspicion of an unknown frenzy can give the least possibility to the former event, which is so contrary to all the known principles of human nature. A man who at noon leaves his purse full of gold on the pavement at Charing-Cross, may as well expect that it will fly away like a feather, as that he will find it untouched an hour after. Above one half of human reasonings contain inferences of a similar nature, attended with more or less degrees of certainty proportioned to our experience of the usual conduct of mankind in such particular situations.

Suppose a man comes into my house, where I am surrounded by my servants. I know him to be honest and wealthy, and he is a close friend. I am sure he will not stab me before he leaves in order to steal my silver inkstand. I no more suspect that he will do this than that the house itself will fall. The house is new, solidly built, and has a solid foundation. But he may have been seized by a sudden, unknown fit of madness. A sudden earthquake may also strike and shake the house down around me. So I will change the examples. I know for certain that he will not put his hand in the fire and hold it there until it burns away. I think I can predict this with the same confidence as I can predict another event. If he throws himself out of the window and nothing stops him, he will not remain suspended in the air even for a moment. No suspicion of an unknown fit of madness can make it even slightly possible that he would hold his hand in the fire. That act is contrary to all the known principles of human nature. Suppose a man leaves his purse full of gold on the pavement at Charing-Cross at noon. He might as well expect the purse to fly away like a feather as expect to find it untouched an hour later. More than half of human reasoning consists of similar inferences. We are more or less certain of them according to our experience of how people usually behave in such particular situations.

71. I have frequently considered, what could possibly be the reason why all mankind, though they have ever, without hesitation, acknowledged the doctrine of necessity in their whole practice and reasoning, have yet discovered such a reluctance to acknowledge it in words, and have rather shown a propensity, in all ages, to profess the contrary opinion. The matter, I think, may be accounted for after the following manner. If we examine the operations of body, and the production of effects from their causes, we shall find that all our faculties can never carry us farther in our knowledge of this relation than barely to observe that particular objects are constantly conjoined together, and that the mind is carried, by a customary transition, from the appearance of one to the belief of the other. But though this conclusion concerning human ignorance be the result of the strictest scrutiny of this subject, men still entertain a strong propensity to believe that they penetrate farther into the powers of nature, and perceive something like a necessary connexion between the cause and the effect. When again they turn their reflections towards the operations of their own minds, and feel no such connexion of the motive and the action; they are thence apt to suppose, that there is a difference between the effects which result from material force, and those which arise from thought and intelligence. But being once convinced that we know nothing farther of causation of any kind than merely the constant conjunction of objects, and the consequent inference of the mind from one to another, and finding that these two circumstances are universally allowed to have place in voluntary actions; we may be more easily led to own the same necessity common to all causes. And though this reasoning may contradict the systems of many philosophers, in ascribing necessity to the determinations of the will, we shall find, upon reflection, that they dissent from it in words only, not in their real sentiment. Necessity, according to the sense in which it is here taken, has never yet been rejected, nor can ever, I think, be rejected by any philosopher. It may only, perhaps, be pretended that the mind can perceive, in the operations of matter, some farther connexion between the cause and effect; and connexion that has not place in voluntary actions of intelligent beings. Now whether it be so or not, can only appear upon examination; and it is incumbent on these philosophers to make good their assertion, by defining or describing that necessity, and pointing it out to us in the operations of material causes.

71. I have often wondered why all people have been so reluctant to acknowledge the doctrine of necessity in words. In all their practice and reasoning, they have always accepted it without hesitation. Yet in every age, they have tended to profess the opposite view. I think this can be explained as follows. If we examine how bodies act and how causes produce effects, we find a limit to our knowledge of causation. Our faculties can take us no further than observing that particular objects are constantly conjoined. We also observe that the mind makes a customary transition from the appearance of one object to belief in the other. This conclusion about human ignorance comes from the strictest examination of the subject. Yet people still strongly tend to believe that they understand the powers of nature more deeply. They believe they perceive something like a necessary connection between cause and effect. When people turn their thoughts to the workings of their own minds, they feel no such connection between motive and action. They are therefore apt to suppose that there is a difference between effects arising from material force and those arising from thought and intelligence. But suppose we become convinced that our knowledge of causation, of any kind, goes no further than two things. These are the constant conjunction of objects and the mind’s resulting inference from one object to another. Suppose we also find that these two features are universally accepted as present in voluntary actions. Then we may more easily acknowledge that the same necessity is common to all causes. This reasoning attributes necessity to the decisions of the will, and so may contradict the systems of many philosophers. But on reflection, we shall find that these philosophers disagree with it only in words, not in their actual beliefs. No philosopher has ever rejected necessity in the sense used here. I think none ever can. Perhaps a philosopher may claim that the mind can perceive some further connection between cause and effect in the operations of matter. This would be a connection absent from the voluntary actions of intelligent beings. Now only examination can show whether this is so. These philosophers must support their claim by defining or describing that necessity and showing it to us in the operations of material causes.

72. It would seem, indeed, that men begin at the wrong end of this question concerning liberty and necessity, when they enter upon it by examining the faculties of the soul, the influence of the understanding, and the operations of the will. Let them first discuss a more simple question, namely, the operations of body and of brute unintelligent matter; and try whether they can there form any idea of causation and necessity, except that of a constant conjunction of objects, and subsequent inference of the mind from one to another. If these circumstances form, in reality, the whole of that necessity, which we conceive in matter, and if these circumstances be also universally acknowledged to take place in the operations of the mind, the dispute is at an end; at least, must be owned to be thenceforth merely verbal. But as long as we will rashly suppose, that we have some farther idea of necessity and causation in the operations of external objects; at the same time, that we can find nothing farther in the voluntary actions of the mind; there is no possibility of bringing the question to any determinate issue, while we proceed upon so erroneous a supposition. The only method of undeceiving us is to mount up higher; to examine the narrow extent of science when applied to material causes; and to convince ourselves that all we know of them is the constant conjunction and inference above mentioned. We may, perhaps, find that it is with difficulty we are induced to fix such narrow limits to human understanding: But we can afterwards find no difficulty when we come to apply this doctrine to the actions of the will. For as it is evident that these have a regular conjunction with motives and circumstances and characters, and as we always draw inferences from one to the other, we must be obliged to acknowledge in words that necessity, which we have already avowed, in every deliberation of our lives, and in every step of our conduct and behaviour.¹⁷

72. It seems that people begin at the wrong end of the question of liberty and necessity. They begin by examining the faculties of the soul, the influence of understanding, and the workings of the will. Let them first consider a simpler question: how bodies and unintelligent matter operate. Let them ask whether they can form any idea of causation and necessity in matter beyond two things. These are the constant conjunction of objects and the mind’s subsequent inference from one object to another. If these two things make up all the necessity we conceive in matter, the dispute is at an end. That is so if everyone also acknowledges that these same things occur in the workings of the mind. At least, the dispute must then be recognized as merely a dispute about words. But we may rashly suppose that we have some further idea of necessity and causation in external objects. At the same time, we may find nothing further in the voluntary actions of the mind. As long as we proceed on this mistaken assumption, there is no way to settle the question. The only way to correct our mistake is to go back further. We must examine how limited our knowledge of material causes is. We must convince ourselves that all we know of material causes is the constant conjunction and inference already mentioned. Perhaps we will find it hard to accept such narrow limits on human understanding. But afterward we will find no difficulty applying this doctrine to actions of the will. Actions of the will are evidently regularly conjoined with motives, circumstances, and characters. We also always draw inferences from one to the other. So we must acknowledge in words the necessity we have already accepted in every decision we make. We have accepted it in every step of our conduct and behavior.¹⁷

73. But to proceed in this reconciling project with regard to the question of liberty and necessity; the most contentious question of metaphysics, the most contentious science; it will not require many words to prove, that all mankind have ever agreed in the doctrine of liberty as well as in that of necessity, and that the whole dispute, in this respect also, has been hitherto merely verbal. For what is meant by liberty, when applied to voluntary actions? We cannot surely mean that actions have so little connexion with motives, inclinations, and circumstances, that one does not follow with a certain degree of uniformity from the other, and that one affords no inference by which we can conclude the existence of the other. For these are plain and acknowledged matters of fact. By liberty, then, we can only mean a power of acting or not acting, according to the determinations of the will; that is, if we choose to remain at rest, we may; if we choose to move, we also may. Now this hypothetical liberty is universally allowed to belong to every one who is not a prisoner and in chains. Here, then, is no subject of dispute.

73. But let us continue this attempt to reconcile views on liberty and necessity. This is the most contentious question in metaphysics, the most contentious science. It takes few words to show that everyone has always agreed on the doctrine of liberty, just as on necessity. Here too, the whole dispute has so far been merely about words. What does liberty mean when applied to voluntary actions? Surely we cannot mean that actions have so little connection with motives, inclinations, and circumstances that actions do not follow them with some degree of regularity. Nor can we mean that we cannot infer one from the other. The connection and the possibility of inference are plain and acknowledged facts. By liberty, then, we can only mean the power to act or not act, as we choose. In other words, if we choose to stay still, we can. If we choose to move, we can also do that. Now everyone agrees that this conditional liberty belongs to anyone who is not a prisoner in chains. So there is no subject for dispute here.

74. Whatever definition we may give of liberty, we should be careful to observe two requisite circumstances; first, that it be consistent with plain matter of fact; secondly, that it be consistent with itself. If we observe these circumstances, and render our definition intelligible, I am persuaded that all mankind will be found of one opinion with regard to it.

74. Whatever definition of liberty we give, we must take care that it meets two requirements: first, it must be consistent with the plain facts. Second, it must be consistent with itself. If we meet these requirements and make the definition clear, I am convinced that all people will agree about it.

It is universally allowed that nothing exists without a cause of its existence, and that chance, when strictly examined, is a mere negative word, and means not any real power which has anywhere a being in nature. But it is pretended that some causes are necessary, some not necessary. Here then is the advantage of definitions. Let any one define a cause, without comprehending, as a part of the definition, a necessary connexion with its effect; and let him show distinctly the origin of the idea, expressed by the definition; and I shall readily give up the whole controversy. But if the foregoing explication of the matter be received, this must be absolutely impracticable. Had not objects a regular conjunction with each other, we should never have entertained any notion of cause and effect; and this regular conjunction produces that inference of the understanding, which is the only connexion, that we can have any comprehension of. Whoever attempts a definition of cause, exclusive of these circumstances, will be obliged either to employ unintelligible terms or such as are synonymous to the term which he endeavours to define.¹⁸ And if the definition above mentioned be admitted; liberty, when opposed to necessity, not to constraint, is the same thing with chance; which is universally allowed to have no existence.

Everyone agrees that nothing exists without a cause of its existence. Everyone also agrees that, strictly speaking, chance is merely a negative word. It does not mean any real power that exists anywhere in nature. But some claim that some causes are necessary, while others are not. Here is where definitions are useful. Let anyone define a cause without including a necessary connection with its effect in the definition. Let that person also show clearly where the idea expressed by the definition comes from. Then I will readily give up the whole dispute. But if the explanation given above is accepted, this must be absolutely impossible. If objects were not regularly joined with one another, we would never have formed any idea of cause and effect. And this regular joining leads the mind to make an inference. That inference is the only connection we can understand. Anyone who tries to define a cause without these features will have to use unintelligible terms. Or else they will have to use terms that mean the same as the term they are trying to define.¹⁸ And if the definition mentioned above is accepted, liberty is the same as chance when opposed to necessity, not constraint. Everyone agrees that chance does not exist.

75. There is no method of reasoning more common, and yet none more blameable, than, in philosophical disputes, to endeavour the refutation of any hypothesis, by a pretence of its dangerous consequences to religion and morality. When any opinion leads to absurdities, it is certainly false; but it is not certain that an opinion is false, because it is of dangerous consequence. Such topics, therefore, ought entirely to be forborne; as serving nothing to the discovery of truth, but only to make the person of an antagonist odious. This I observe in general, without pretending to draw any advantage from it. I frankly submit to an examination of this kind, and shall venture to affirm that the doctrines, both of necessity and of liberty, as above explained, are not only consistent with morality, but are absolutely essential to its support.

75. In philosophical disputes, no method of reasoning is more common, or more blameworthy, than trying to refute a hypothesis by claiming that it has dangerous consequences for religion and morality. If an opinion leads to absurdities, it is certainly false. But an opinion is not necessarily false because it has dangerous consequences. Such arguments should therefore be avoided entirely. They do nothing to uncover the truth and only make an opponent seem hateful. I make this general observation without claiming any advantage from it. I willingly submit my own views to this kind of examination. I would venture to say that the doctrines of both necessity and liberty, as explained above, are not only consistent with morality but absolutely essential to supporting it.

Necessity may be defined two ways, conformably to the two definitions of cause, of which it makes an essential part. It consists either in the constant conjunction of like objects, or in the inference of the understanding from one object to another. Now necessity, in both these senses, (which, indeed, are at bottom the same) has universally, though tacitly, in the schools, in the pulpit, and in common life, been allowed to belong to the will of man; and no one has ever pretended to deny that we can draw inferences concerning human actions, and that those inferences are founded on the experienced union of like actions, with like motives, inclinations, and circumstances. The only particular in which any one can differ, is, that either, perhaps, he will refuse to give the name of necessity to this property of human actions: But as long as the meaning is understood, I hope the word can do no harm: Or that he will maintain it possible to discover something farther in the operations of matter. But this, it must be acknowledged, can be of no consequence to morality or religion, whatever it may be to natural philosophy or metaphysics. We may here be mistaken in asserting that there is no idea of any other necessity or connexion in the actions of body: But surely we ascribe nothing to the actions of the mind, but what everyone does, and must readily allow of. We change no circumstance in the received orthodox system with regard to the will, but only in that with regard to material objects and causes. Nothing, therefore, can be more innocent, at least, than this doctrine.

Necessity can be defined in two ways, corresponding to the two definitions of cause. Necessity is an essential part of both definitions. It consists either in the constant conjunction of similar objects or in the mind’s inference from one object to another. Necessity in both senses, which are really the same, has universally been accepted as belonging to the human will. This has been accepted tacitly in academic teaching, in preaching, and in everyday life. No one has ever claimed to deny that we can draw inferences about human actions. Nor has anyone denied that these inferences rest on experience of similar actions occurring with similar motives, inclinations, and circumstances. There are only two points on which anyone can differ. Perhaps someone will refuse to call this property of human actions necessity. But as long as the meaning is understood, I hope the word can do no harm. Or someone may maintain that it is possible to discover something more in the operations of matter. But, whatever bearing this may have on natural philosophy or metaphysics, it cannot affect morality or religion. We may be mistaken in asserting that we have no idea of any other necessity or connection in the actions of bodies. But surely we attribute nothing to the actions of the mind that everyone does not, and must not readily, accept. We change nothing in the accepted orthodox view of the will. We change only the accepted view of material objects and causes. Nothing, therefore, could be more harmless, at least, than this doctrine.

76. All laws being founded on rewards and punishments, it is supposed as a fundamental principle, that these motives have a regular and uniform influence on the mind, and both produce the good and prevent the evil actions. We may give to this influence what name we please; but, as it is usually conjoined with the action, it must be esteemed a cause, and be looked upon as an instance of that necessity, which we would here establish.

76. All laws are based on rewards and punishments. They rest on the basic assumption that these motives have a regular and consistent influence on the mind. They assume that rewards and punishments lead people to do good and prevent them from doing evil. We may call this influence whatever we like. But because it is usually linked with the action, it must be considered a cause. It must also be seen as an example of the necessity we are trying to establish here.

The only proper object of hatred or vengeance is a person or creature, endowed with thought and consciousness; and when any criminal or injurious actions excite that passion, it is only by their relation to the person, or connexion with him. Actions are, by their very nature, temporary and perishing; and where they proceed not from some cause in the character and disposition of the person who performed them, they can neither redound to his honour, if good; nor infamy, if evil. The actions themselves may be blameable; they may be contrary to all the rules of morality and religion: But the person is not answerable for them; and as they proceeded from nothing in him that is durable and constant, and leave nothing of that nature behind them, it is impossible he can, upon their account, become the object of punishment or vengeance. According to the principle, therefore, which denies necessity, and consequently causes, a man is as pure and untainted, after having committed the most horrid crime, as at the first moment of his birth, nor is his character anywise concerned in his actions, since they are not derived from it, and the wickedness of the one can never be used as a proof of the depravity of the other.

The only proper object of hatred or revenge is a person or creature capable of thought and consciousness. When criminal or harmful actions arouse that passion, they do so only because of their connection to the person. Actions are temporary by nature and soon pass away. Unless they arise from some cause in the character and disposition of the person who performed them, they can bring that person neither honor, if good, nor disgrace, if evil. The actions themselves may be blameworthy and may violate all the rules of morality and religion. But the person is not responsible for them. They did not arise from anything lasting and stable in the person, and they leave nothing of that kind behind. So the person cannot possibly become an object of punishment or revenge because of them. Consider, then, the principle that denies necessity and, consequently, causes. According to this principle, a person remains as pure and untainted after committing the most horrific crime as at birth. The person's character has nothing to do with those actions, since they do not arise from it. The wickedness of the actions can never be used as proof of the depravity of the character.

Men are not blamed for such actions as they perform ignorantly and casually, whatever may be the consequences. Why? but because the principles of these actions are only momentary, and terminate in them alone. Men are less blamed for such actions as they perform hastily and unpremeditately than for such as proceed from deliberation. For what reason? but because a hasty temper, though a constant cause or principle in the mind, operates only by intervals, and infects not the whole character. Again, repentance wipes off every crime, if attended with a reformation of life and manners. How is this to be accounted for? but by asserting that actions render a person criminal merely as they are proofs of criminal principles in the mind; and when, by an alteration of these principles, they cease to be just proofs, they likewise cease to be criminal. But, except upon the doctrine of necessity, they never were just proofs, and consequently never were criminal.

People are not blamed for actions performed unknowingly and by chance, whatever the consequences. Why not? Because the principles behind those actions are only momentary and go no further than the actions themselves. People are blamed less for actions performed hastily and without forethought than for actions resulting from deliberation. Why? Because a hasty temper, though a constant cause or principle in the mind, operates only at intervals. It does not affect the whole character. Again, repentance wipes away every crime if it is accompanied by a change in how a person lives and behaves. How can we explain this? Actions make a person criminal only because they provide evidence of criminal principles in the mind. When those principles change, the actions cease to be sound evidence of criminal principles and also cease to be criminal. But without the doctrine of necessity, those actions were never sound evidence of criminal principles. Consequently, they were never criminal.

77. It will be equally easy to prove, and from the same arguments, that liberty, according to that definition above mentioned, in which all men agree, is also essential to morality, and that no human actions, where it is wanting, are susceptible of any moral qualities, or can be the objects either of approbation or dislike. For as actions are objects of our moral sentiment, so far only as they are indications of the internal character, passions, and affections; it is impossible that they can give rise either to praise or blame, where they proceed not from these principles, but are derived altogether from external violence.

77. The same arguments can just as easily show that liberty, as defined above and agreed on by all, is also essential to morality. No human action without liberty can have any moral quality or be an object of approval or disapproval. We judge actions morally only insofar as they reveal a person’s inner character, passions, and feelings. So actions cannot be praised or blamed when they do not arise from these sources, but result entirely from external force.

78. I pretend not to have obviated or removed all objections to this theory, with regard to necessity and liberty. I can foresee other objections, derived from topics which have not here been treated of. It may be said, for instance, that, if voluntary actions be subjected to the same laws of necessity with the operations of matter, there is a continued chain of necessary causes, pre-ordained and pre-determined, reaching from the original cause of all to every single volition of every human creature. No contingency anywhere in the universe; no indifference; no liberty. While we act, we are, at the same time, acted upon. The ultimate Author of all our volitions is the Creator of the world, who first bestowed motion on this immense machine, and placed all beings in that particular position, whence every subsequent event, by an inevitable necessity, must result. Human actions, therefore, either can have no moral turpitude at all, as proceeding from so good a cause; or if they have any turpitude, they must involve our Creator in the same guilt, while he is acknowledged to be their ultimate cause and author. For as a man, who fired a mine, is answerable for all the consequences whether the train he employed be long or short; so wherever a continued chain of necessary causes is fixed, that Being, either finite or infinite, who produces the first, is likewise the author of all the rest, and must both bear the blame and acquire the praise which belong to them. Our clear and unalterable ideas of morality establish this rule, upon unquestionable reasons, when we examine the consequences of any human action; and these reasons must still have greater force when applied to the volitions and intentions of a Being infinitely wise and powerful. Ignorance or impotence may be pleaded for so limited a creature as man; but those imperfections have no place in our Creator. He foresaw, he ordained, he intended all those actions of men, which we so rashly pronounce criminal. And we must therefore conclude, either that they are not criminal, or that the Deity, not man, is accountable for them. But as either of these positions is absurd and impious, it follows, that the doctrine from which they are deduced cannot possibly be true, as being liable to all the same objections. An absurd consequence, if necessary, proves the original doctrine to be absurd; in the same manner as criminal actions render criminal the original cause, if the connexion between them be necessary and evitable.

78. I do not claim to have answered or removed all objections to this theory of necessity and liberty. I can foresee other objections based on topics not discussed here. For example, someone might say that voluntary actions follow the same laws of necessity as the operations of matter. If so, a continuous chain of necessary causes reaches from the original cause of all things to every individual human choice. This chain is preordained and predetermined. There is no chance anywhere in the universe, no openness to alternatives, and no liberty. While we act, we are also acted upon. The ultimate author of all our choices is the Creator of the world. He first set this immense machine in motion and placed all beings in their particular positions. From those positions, every later event must follow by inevitable necessity. Human actions, therefore, either cannot be morally wrong at all, since they come from so good a cause, or they must involve our Creator in the same guilt, since he is acknowledged as their ultimate cause and author. A man who sets off a mine is responsible for all the consequences, whether the fuse he uses is long or short. In the same way, wherever there is a continuous chain of necessary causes, the being who produces the first cause is also the author of all the rest. That being, whether finite or infinite, must bear the blame and receive the praise that belong to them. Our clear and unchangeable ideas of morality establish this rule on unquestionable grounds when we examine the consequences of any human action. These grounds must have even greater force when applied to the choices and intentions of an infinitely wise and powerful Being. Ignorance or lack of power may be offered as an excuse for a creature as limited as man. But our Creator has no such imperfections. He foresaw, ordained, and intended all those human actions that we so rashly call criminal. We must therefore conclude either that they are not criminal or that the Deity, not man, is responsible for them. But both conclusions are absurd and impious. It follows that the doctrine from which they are derived cannot possibly be true, since it is open to all the same objections. If an absurd consequence necessarily follows from a doctrine, it proves the original doctrine absurd. In the same way, criminal actions make their original cause criminal if the connection between them is necessary and avoidable.

This objection consists of two parts, which we shall examine separately; First, that, if human actions can be traced up, by a necessary chain, to the Deity, they can never be criminal; on account of the infinite perfection of that Being from whom they are derived, and who can intend nothing but what is altogether good and laudable. Or, Secondly, if they be criminal, we must retract the attribute of perfection, which we ascribe to the Deity, and must acknowledge him to be the ultimate author of guilt and moral turpitude in all his creatures.

This objection has two parts, which we will examine separately. First, if human actions can be traced back to the Deity through a necessary chain of causes, they can never be criminal. This is because they come from an infinitely perfect Being, who can intend nothing but what is entirely good and praiseworthy. Or, Secondly, if human actions are criminal, we must take back our claim that the Deity is perfect. We must acknowledge him as the ultimate source of guilt and moral corruption in all his creatures.

79. The answer to the first objection seems obvious and convincing. There are many philosophers who, after an exact scrutiny of all the phenomena of nature, conclude, that the WHOLE, considered as one system, is, in every period of its existence, ordered with perfect benevolence; and that the utmost possible happiness will, in the end, result to all created beings, without any mixture of positive or absolute ill or misery. Every physical ill, say they, makes an essential part of this benevolent system, and could not possibly be removed, even by the Deity himself, considered as a wise agent, without giving entrance to greater ill, or excluding greater good, which will result from it. From this theory, some philosophers, and the ancient Stoics among the rest, derived a topic of consolation under all afflictions, while they taught their pupils that those ills under which they laboured were, in reality, goods to the universe; and that to an enlarged view, which could comprehend the whole system of nature, every event became an object of joy and exultation. But though this topic be specious and sublime, it was soon found in practice weak and ineffectual. You would surely more irritate than appease a man lying under the racking pains of the gout by preaching up to him the rectitude of those general laws, which produced the malignant humours in his body, and led them through the proper canals, to the sinews and nerves, where they now excite such acute torments. These enlarged views may, for a moment, please the imagination of a speculative man, who is placed in ease and security; but neither can they dwell with constancy on his mind, even though undisturbed by the emotions of pain or passion; much less can they maintain their ground when attacked by such powerful antagonists. The affections take a narrower and more natural survey of their object; and by an economy, more suitable to the infirmity of human minds, regard alone the beings around us, and are actuated by such events as appear good or ill to the private system.

79. The answer to the first objection seems obvious and convincing. Many philosophers have closely examined all the phenomena of nature. They conclude that the WHOLE, considered as one system, is ordered with perfect benevolence at every moment of its existence. They also conclude that, in the end, all created beings will enjoy the greatest possible happiness, without any positive or absolute evil or misery mixed in. Every physical evil, they say, is an essential part of this benevolent system. Even God himself, acting wisely, could not remove it without allowing a greater evil or preventing a greater good from resulting from it. Some philosophers, including the ancient Stoics, drew a source of comfort from this theory for every kind of suffering. They taught their pupils that the evils they suffered were really good for the universe. They also taught that, from a broader view encompassing the whole system of nature, every event became a cause for joy and celebration. But although this argument is plausible and lofty, it soon proved weak and ineffective in practice. A man suffering the agonizing pain of gout would surely be irritated rather than comforted by such preaching. You might praise the soundness of the general laws that produced the harmful humours in his body. These laws also led the humours through the proper channels to his sinews and nerves, where they now cause him such acute pain. For a moment, such broad views may please the imagination of a thoughtful man who is comfortable and secure. But they cannot remain steadily in his mind, even when pain or passion does not disturb him. Still less can they hold their ground against such powerful opponents. Our feelings take a narrower, more natural view of their objects. In a way better suited to the weakness of human minds, our feelings attend only to the beings around us. They are moved by events that seem good or bad for our own immediate sphere.

80. The case is the same with moral as with physical ill. It cannot reasonably be supposed, that those remote considerations, which are found of so little efficacy with regard to one, will have a more powerful influence with regard to the other. The mind of man is so formed by nature that, upon the appearance of certain characters, dispositions, and actions, it immediately feels the sentiment of approbation or blame; nor are there any emotions more essential to its frame and constitution. The characters which engage our approbation are chiefly such as contribute to the peace and security of human society; as the characters which excite blame are chiefly such as tend to public detriment and disturbance: Whence it may reasonably be presumed, that the moral sentiments arise, either mediately or immediately, from a reflection of these opposite interests. What though philosophical meditations establish a different opinion or conjecture; that everything is right with regard to the WHOLE, and that the qualities, which disturb society, are, in the main, as beneficial, and are as suitable to the primary intention of nature as those which more directly promote its happiness and welfare? Are such remote and uncertain speculations able to counterbalance the sentiments which arise from the natural and immediate view of the objects? A man who is robbed of a considerable sum; does he find his vexation for the loss anywise diminished by these sublime reflections? Why then should his moral resentment against the crime be supposed incompatible with them? Or why should not the acknowledgment of a real distinction between vice and virtue be reconcileable to all speculative systems of philosophy, as well as that of a real distinction between personal beauty and deformity? Both these distinctions are founded in the natural sentiments of the human mind: And these sentiments are not to be controuled or altered by any philosophical theory or speculation whatsoever.

80. The same is true of moral evil and physical evil. Those distant considerations have little effect on our response to physical evil. We cannot reasonably suppose they will have a stronger effect on our response to moral evil. Human minds are naturally made to feel approval or blame immediately when we encounter certain characters, dispositions, and actions. No feelings are more essential to our nature. The characters we approve of are chiefly those that contribute to the peace and security of human society. Those we blame are chiefly those that tend to harm and disturb society. So we may reasonably suppose that moral feelings arise, directly or indirectly, from thinking about these opposing interests. But what if philosophical reflection suggests a different view or conjecture? Perhaps everything is right when considered in relation to the WHOLE. Perhaps, on balance, the qualities that disturb society are just as beneficial as those that more directly promote its happiness and welfare. Perhaps they are also just as suited to nature's primary intention. Can such distant and uncertain speculation outweigh the feelings that arise when we consider these things naturally and immediately? Suppose a man is robbed of a considerable sum. Do these lofty reflections lessen his distress at the loss in any way? Why, then, should his moral anger at the crime be thought incompatible with those reflections? And why should acknowledging a real distinction between vice and virtue not be compatible with all philosophical theories? After all, acknowledging a real distinction between personal beauty and deformity is compatible with them. Both distinctions are based on the natural feelings of the human mind. No philosophical theory or speculation whatsoever can control or change those feelings.

81. The second objection admits not of so easy and satisfactory an answer; nor is it possible to explain distinctly, how the Deity can be the mediate cause of all the actions of men, without being the author of sin and moral turpitude. These are mysteries, which mere natural and unassisted reason is very unfit to handle; and whatever system she embraces, she must find herself involved in inextricable difficulties, and even contradictions, at every step which she takes with regard to such subjects. To reconcile the indifference and contingency of human actions with prescience; or to defend absolute decrees, and yet free the Deity from being the author of sin, has been found hitherto to exceed all the power of philosophy. Happy, if she be thence sensible of her temerity, when she pries into these sublime mysteries; and leaving a scene so full of obscurities and perplexities, return, with suitable modesty, to her true and proper province, the examination of common life; where she will find difficulties enough to employ her enquiries, without launching into so boundless an ocean of doubt, uncertainty, and contradiction!

81. The second objection cannot be answered so easily or satisfactorily. Nor can we clearly explain how God can be the indirect cause of all human actions without being responsible for sin and moral corruption. These are mysteries that unaided natural reason is poorly equipped to handle. Whatever system reason adopts, it must encounter inescapable difficulties and even contradictions at every step on such subjects. Philosophy has so far proved unable to reconcile the freedom and contingency of human actions with divine foreknowledge. Nor has it been able to defend absolute decrees while freeing God from responsibility for sin. Philosophy would do well to recognize how rash it is to probe these sublime mysteries. It should leave behind a field so full of obscurity and perplexity and return, with proper modesty, to its true domain: the examination of ordinary life. There it will find enough difficulties to occupy its inquiries, without venturing into so boundless an ocean of doubt, uncertainty, and contradiction!