MR EDITOR, The doctrines which belong to the systems of freewill and philosophical necessity, have been so long and largely discussed, that no one, who has looked into the science of metaphysics, can want some general ideas on the subject. These doctrines, however, have led into a field of argument so wide, and are capable of being controverted in so many ways, that I know not whether many of their bearings have, even yet, received a complete discussion. A persuasion, that one branch of the argument, at least, will support a further weight of controversy, emboldens me to venture to submit the following remarks. It is, of course, far from my intention to enter into the general philosophical question of freewill and necessity. To do so would require a volume. It has stood unsettled for some centuries, and, for aught I see, is likely to remain so. However presumptuous it might be to decide, it is certainly safe enough to volunteer an opinion on either side. This, however, I leave to others, from whom such an opinion may come with better grace. The object of the present communication is, merely to detail a few remarks, relative to one argument connected with this questionand which appears to me not to have been sufficiently investigated, or, at all events, not to have been exhausted. The opponents of the doctrine of philosophical necessity, amongst the multitude of arguments on their side of the question, have early attempted to infer that, if the doctrine be admitted, certain consequences follow, the absurdity of which consequences must effectually discredit the system from whence they necessarily flow. The argument is intended to drive the advocates of the necessitarian hypothesis to a Reductio ad absurdum, and may be stated as follows. If we set

out with supposing that the truth of the doctrine of necessity is impressed upon our minds so strongly as to become a practical principle, then motives of all sorts must cease to operate

and, as motive is strictly necessar♥ to action, we should, in that case, cease to act; a conclusion which cannot arise out of a true system, and yet no other can be legitimately drawn from the hypothesis which we are opposing. For instance-take one event, viz.: death-including, in that word, the time of that event; suppose that this is already fixed, and that we absolutely believe it to be so fixed, then no situation nor circumstance whatsoever, can operate as a motive to induce us to use the slightest endeavour, by any exertion of our own, either to lengthen or shorten the period of our existence, its duration being, accord ing to the supposition, already and irrevocably determined, and we our selves knowing this to be the case.

This argument is of long standing, and is known by the name of the Ignava Ratio. It appears to have been first made use of by the Stoic philosophers, in opposition to Epicurus and his disciples, who were fatalists; for the doctrine, which is now comprehended under the term philosophical necessity, was then very imperfectly developed. It is slightly advertted to by Hobbes, in his letter of the Marquis of Newcastle, in reply to the Bishop of Worcester. He seems, somehow or other, to have left the argument short; at least, his conclusion is much less satisfactory than usual. President Edwards, in his celebrated treatise on freewill, has not omitted to examine this argument; he has also added a postscript, with a view to the work of Lord Kaimes, which, amongst other things, goes into this part of the controversy at some length.

The answer of Edwards is logical, and, to a logician, complete. He exposes the fallacy of the argument, which, even from its very statement, however managed, he shews to include an inconsistency. "If (says the opponent) every thing is absolutely settled, I will give myself no trouble.-I will indulge my sloth, and let events run as they are decreed to run." Now, it is certainly manifest, that this involves a direct contradiction; it sets out with assuming that the events of life are unalterable, and then contradicts that assumption, by professing a control or direction over future events by determining the omission of certain actions, and the occurrence of effects-that is to say, a life of inaction and consequent ease.

This answer, however complete in logic, I cannot think sufficient in fact. Although those who deduced such consequences, or meditated such actions, from the admission of the doctrine of necessity, would be inconsistent and illogical in their conduct and reasoning, still it does not follow that the majority would not do this, inasmuch as few men are logicians, and all men liable to inconsistency both in conduct and opinion.

It appears to me, that the objection admits of a solution much more complete, and that the process of mind under which necessitarians may and do reasonably act, is capable of direct analysis. And first it strikes me in the outset, in contradiction to the assertors of the Ignava Ratio, that, in fact, those who profess to believe in the doctrine of philosophical necessity, do not act as described; which may be proved by an immediate appeal to experience. To obviate this, I know it has been asserted, in reply, that such appeal only proves that necessitarians do not fully and practically believe the doc

trine they profess, and that their early and intuitive feelings of liberty perpetually overcome the impressions of the necessitarian theory. But this is a bare assertion, unsupported by any proof; and is effectually refuted, if the mental process, under which necessitarians may and do act, can be intelligibly delineated, and shewn to be consistent with reason.

In pursuance of this, it must first be observed, that, in the conduct of all arguments on this question, special care must be taken not to view the belief of a necessity as only applied to one insulated future event, without embracing the whole train of other events which contribute to its production. The necessitarian, in supposing the necessity of an event, supposes also the necessity of the means of that event: he holds that, in every case, the means and end are decreed, equally and together; that the last can only happen consequently to the first, and that the first necessarily leads to the last. This being premised, let us suppose that an assertor of the necessitarian doctrine is asked, "why, if his death, including in that word the time of his death, be fixed, he troubles himself about an event which can neither be eluded nor altered; in short, why he eats and drinks, or distrusts fire and water, or shuns any sort of personal danger, on account of its tendency to produce that catastrophe ?" Supposing this question to be proposed to him, he answers as follows.

In proceeding to reply to this question, it will, I doubt not, be granted me, that, although the time of my death may be, in itself, an event absolutely fixed and determined, yet to me it is, nevertheless, a contingent and uncertain event. It may, for aught I know, be decreed to happen to-morrow, or it may be decreed to

happen ten years hence. What I am uncertain of, must to me be uncertain, as much as if it were, in its own nature and essence, absolutely contingent. It will also be further granted me, that I may prefer one of these suppositions to the other, and that I may naturally and reasonably wish that the latter.supposition may be the true one. Nor is the reasonableness of this desire in any way affected by my knowing, that one of the two suppositions has in fact been decreed to take place. It is sometimes asked, but the question is superfluous, "why be anxious about what is decreed and unalterable?" We are anxious, and reasonably so, with respect to the event of circumstances, which we know to have been long determined and past, but which yet materially affect ourselves. Thus, says Edwards, " your brother has perished in the great storm three weeks ago, or he has not; the event is past and determined; yet not knowing which alternative has taken place, you continue to wish, with intense anxiety, to know which supposition is the true one." If, then, it be reasonable for me to wish that the supposition that I am decreed to die ten years hence, rather than now, may be the true supposition, it will, I think, be readily granted, that it is reasonable for me, moreover, to wish to ascertain, by any evidence, whether it is or not; it being a proposition, the truth or falsehood of which is of material consequence to me.

Now, if these premises be allowed, let us suppose that, by some means or other, I am utterly deprived of the means of supporting life. If this be supposed, it is plain that, believing, as I do, in the necessary connexion of causes and effects, I shall be convinced that my death must follow forthwith. I shall have the strongest reason to believe, being a necessitarian, that it has been decreed that I shall die now, and not ten years hence. Take the converse supposition: Suppose that the means of supporting life are in my power; still it is plain that these means, if not used, are equivalent to no means at all. As long as I do not use them, their existence or non-existence cannot alter the question with respect to me. Whilst I persist, from whatever reason, in not using them, the conclusion, that it is decreed I must die now, will still hold.

Nor is the case with respect to the reasonableness of supposing a decree altered at all, whether the neglect of means be voluntary or involuntary. It is as reasonable to impute necessity to the death of the philosopher who abstained from food, as to that of Count Ugolino, from whom food was withheld; inasmuch as the state of mind, which caused the voluntary abstinence of the former was in itself as necessary and unavoidable as the situation of Ugolino, his dungeon, and the deprivation of sustenance to which he was subjected.

If then my not using, from whatever cause or reason, the means to support life be an evidence that I must absolutely die now, my using those means must, e converso, be an evidence that I shall not die now but hereafter; that is to say, that I have been fated to live, and not to die at this particular time. Now it has been allowed, that I may reasonably wish to find evidence of the distant futurity of my death, and the possession and use of the means of prolonging life are plain evidences that life will be prolonged-therefore I use the

means.

It hardly need be added, that this argument is applicable equally to the omission, as to the performance of any action; the omission of any thing being an act, inasmuch as it includes a determination of the mind. To ask why I choose to omit the search of positive evidence of an unpleasant event, would be a superfluous question. It would be as rational to ask me, if I should choose the positive evidence, were the negative out of my power; for where there is no alternative, there is no room for the conceivable operation of any motive. It is sufficient to say, that the non-occurrence as well as the occurrence of a future supposed event is sometimes desirable, and the omission of acts leading to the latter, is evidence of the probability of the former.

As an objection to the foregoing reasoning, it may be asked, perhaps, how, if this be the process which takes place in the mind of the necessitarian agent, it happens not to have been better known, or more frequently pointed out? This cavil, however obvious, is scarcely plausible. Men follow up the means to an event, merely because they evidently lead, or appear