The GOSPEL TRUTH

A GENETIC HISTORY OF THE

NEW ENGLAND THEOLOGY

By

FRANK HUGH FOSTER

1907

 

 CHAPTER III:

The Treatise On The Freedom Of The Will

If the great characteristic of Edward's mind was acuteness, next, if not upon an equality with this, are to be placed his depth and thoroughness. He had met Arminianism upon the side of its practical opposition to evangelical religion, of its coldness, its self-righteousness, its antagonism to the practical measures by which a pure Christian church could alone be sustained. But he was content with no superficial consideration of what were mere symptoms. These outward phenomena were traceable to some definite cause, and that some particular idea. Edwards conceived this to be the philosophy of the will which had become prevalent, and as early as 1747 he had sketched the plan of a work upon this theme, which the disturbances leading up to his dismissal had rendered it impossible for him to carry out. In Stockbridge he took up the thread, and in 1754 printed his Careful and Strict Inquiry into the Modern Prevailing Notions of That Freedom of the Will Which is Supposed to be Essential to Moral Agency, etc. Its importance is evident not only from the universal plaudits with which it was received, and from the position among the great men of the world which it secured to its author, but by the permanence of its influence as a classic of the New England theology. In actual fact, it was but the first of a considerable series of treatises in New England in which the theory of the will was discussed, and by which it was essentially modified and improved; but in the imagination of the different leaders of the school, down to the latest, it was the unsurpassed ideal with which they all sought to prove their entire agreement.

The Freedom of the Will cannot be correctly understood without a clear view of Edwards' starting-point. Two particulars are to be carefully observed, of which the first is his conception of the idea of cause. There are evidences in those remarkable Notes on the Mind, written while he was a youth in college, that Edwards early busied himself with this problem; and it is noteworthy that the treatise written in mature manhood went no farther than the notes of the youth. The Notes say succinctly: "Cause is that after or upon the existence of which, or the existence of it after such a manner, the existence of another thing follows." And in the treatise the definition runs:

Therefore I sometimes use the word cause, in this enquiry, to signify any antecedent, either natural or moral, positive or negative, on which an event, either a thing, or the manner and circumstance of a thing, so depends, that it is the ground and reason, either in whole or in part, why it is, rather than not; or why it is as it is, rather than otherwise; or, in other words, any antecedent with which a consequent event is so connected that it truly belongs to the reason why the proposition which affirms that event, is true; whether it has any positive influence, or not. And agreeably to this, I sometimes use the word effect for the consequence of another thing which is perhaps rather an occasion than a cause, most properly speaking.

Upon the idea of cause as thus defined the whole treatise rests, for an event in the realm of mind without a cause is as inconceivable to Edwards as such a one in the realm of matter. This is the great positive argument of the discussion, though rather an assumed axiom than the subject of prolonged elaboration. And thus it comes to pass that into the very foundation of the whole argument there is inserted an ambiguity which doubtless deceived Edwards himself, and has given rise to two distinct interpretations of the work. Motives are "causes" determining the will. Is the motive an occasion upon which the efficient will acts, or itself an efficient cause operating upon the will? Edwards' definition gives no answer to this question, for he has wrapped up in one term both efficient and occasional causes. It was doubtless true that his idealism had much to do with this. If God was the only agent, if, according to the occasionalism of Malebranche, God does everything upon occasion of certain events in the mundane sphere, then there is no essential difference between the occasional, and what seems to us to be the efficient cause. But, however the ambiguity was introduced into his thinking, there it was, at the very foundation of the edifice he was about to rear, and destined to make its whole structure insecure to the highest pinnacle.

The second particular calling for attention is the division of the mind into faculties, understanding, and will, which Edwards, following Calvin, and deserting at this redeeming point his master, Locke, unfortunately adopted. Thus he confounded the emotions, the action of which is necessary, with the will, the action of which is free, and attributed to the latter, as a matter of self-evidence, all the necessity of the former. The confusion resulted in the entire ambiguity of the word "inclination," which is sometimes used to denote an emotion and often in the same sentence, and in the process of a vital argument, used immediately thereafter, and as if no change of meaning had been made, to denote a volition. Hence as an argument the whole treatise splits upon the rock of this ambiguous middle. It is one of the curiosities of literature that in our own day there should be found some, who accept the threefold division of the mind and the true efficiency of second causes, to declare that they agree with Edwards on the doctrine of the will!

With such fundamental conceptions long since incorporated in his whole style of thinking, Edwards came into contact with the Arminian writers of his day. Among these the chief was Daniel Whitby, who in his work entitled Six Discourses discussed, not only the will, but also all the so-called "Five Points" of controversy between the Calvinists and the Arminians. Thus he taught a "conditional election to be made sure by good works," as well as the doctrine of general atonement, and combated the Calvinistic views upon irresistible grace, bondage of the will, and the perseverance of the saints.

Such a setting to the doctrine of free will did not help it with Edwards. But in its details this doctrine impinged upon his established methods of thought. The will, according to Whitby, is free not only in the sense of being the faculty of choice, but as having no determination either to evil or good. Its liberty he thus defines: "a power of acting from ourselves, or doing what we will." Thus it is free, not only from "co-action," but from what, in distinction from that, was called "necessity." In a quotation from a certain Mr. Thorndike the word "indifference" is used to describe this freedom.

Upon this free will motives, such as promises and threats, operate and exercise influence; but when the motives are presented, the decision still lies with the will. It may choose in the one way equally with the other; and it chooses as it does by "self-determination." True, Whitby does not, so far as noted, employ this precise word, upon which Edwards rings so many changes; but the thought is his, and he does once at least say that the will "determines itself." If, now, it determines itself, says Whitby, there is evidently no rational ground for knowing beforehand what the action of the will in a given case may be, even when all the operating motives are supposed to be known. The omniscience of God, which embraces his foreknowledge, is therefore an attribute entirely mysterious. It also follows that man in conversion is not passive and that the grace of God is not irresistible.

The arguments by which Whitby sustained his positions were not novel, and moved in the plain sphere of common sense. He first sought to show that it was as essential that the will should be free from "necessity" as from "co-action," and then directed his easy task toward showing that there could be, in consistence with the condition in which man is (a state of probation), and with the treatment which he receives as an object of praise or blame, of commands, and of promises, no "co-action" of the will.

To this treatise, and to others like it, as, for example, that of Mr. Chubb, Edwards gave minute attention. It doubtless seemed to him that the answer was easy. The philosophical world had before it in the work of Locke the complete materials for the refutation. He had only to sit down, as he thought, and with sufficient thoroughness explain and enforce what Locke had already said in brief, and then show at length how inconsequent and illogical in the comparison each several position of the antagonists was, and the work would be done. It is therefore necessary briefly to review Locke's theory of the will in preparation for the consideration of Edwards himself.

It has already been noted that Edwards early read Locke's Essay on Human Understanding. That early reading seems to have made the strongest impression upon his mind, and, as we shall see, the improvements which Locke introduced in his second edition were generally rejected by Edwards in the preparation of his great treatise.

Locke begins his treatment of the will, by defining the idea of liberty as "the idea of a power in any agent to do or forbear any particular action according to the determination or thought of the mind whereby either of them is preferred to the other." It will be seen that some stress was laid by him in the development of his thought upon the word "forbear" in this definition; but apart from this modification, liberty is always external liberty, the power to do as one wills. He even says that it is an "unreasonable because unintelligible question whether man's will be free or no."

Liberty, which is but a power, belongs only to agents, and cannot be an attribute or modification of the will which is also but a power . . . To ask whether the will has freedom is to ask whether one power has another power, one ability another ability . . . We can scarce tell how to imagine any being freer than to be able to do what he wills.

In developing this thought, he touches the question "whether a man be at liberty to will which of the two he pleases, motion or rest?" Which he answers thus:

This question carries the absurdity of it so manifestly in itself that one might thereby sufficiently be convinced that liberty concerns not the will. For to ask, whether a man be at liberty to will either motion or rest, speaking or silence, which he please, is to ask whether a man can will what he wills, or be pleased with what he is pleased with. A question which I think needs no answer; and they who can make a question of it must suppose one will to determine the acts of another, and another to determine that; and so on in infinitum.

This argument, it should be noted, is the famous reductio ad absurdum, which formed the staple of Edwards' reply to his adversaries.

Locke now takes up the central topic of the theme, and asks the question: "What determines the will?" At this point the important difference between the first and second editions of the Human Understanding comes into view. Locke says:

It seems so established and settled a maxim by the general consent of all mankind that good, the greater good, determines the will, that I do not at all wonder that, when I first published my thoughts on this subject, I took it for granted; and I imagine that by a great many I shall be thought more excusable for having then done so than that now I have ventured to recede from so received an opinion. But yet upon a stricter enquiry I am forced to conclude that good, the greater good, though apprehended and acknowledged to be so, does not determine the will until our desire, raised proportionably to it, makes us uneasy in the want of it.

The answer to the question propounded--"What determines the will?"--is, then, in both editions: "The motive before it;" but in the first edition, where the will had not been sharply distinguished from the desire, it was the objective motive, the good, whereas now it is the subjective motive, or the desire excited by the good presented to the mind. This distinction depended upon the new conception Locke had gained of the "perfect distinction" of the will from the desire, which, he says, "must not be confounded."

But, now, what moves desire? Locke replies, "Happiness." "What has an aptness to produce pleasure in us, is that we call good." But a good must be so situated as to stir desire, or it Will never influence action. An absent good, for example, is less effective than some present uneasiness.

The drift of all this discussion has evidently been to place the will completely under the causative control of the desires. But at just this point Locke introduces the saving element for which he has previously opened the way. It is natural, he says, that the greatest and most pressing uneasiness-

should determine the will to the next action; and so it does for the most part, but not always. For the mind having in most cases, as is evident in experience, a power to suspend the execution and satisfaction of any of its desires, and so all, one after another, is at liberty to consider the objects of them, examine them on all sides, and weigh them with others. In this lies the liberty man has, and from the not using of it right, comes all that variety of mistakes, errors, and faults which we run into in the conduct of our lives, and our endeavors after happiness, whilst we precipitate the determination of our wills and engage too soon before due examination.

But when deliberation has taken place, the action not only follows according to the "most pressing uneasiness," but it should do this, for "'tis not a fault but a perfection of our nature to desire, will, and act according to the last result of a fair examination."

Upon this basis, as already said, the reply of Edwards to Whitby and his associates was prepared. In substance, it was as follows:

Every act of the will is an act of choice and involves alternatives. Placed between two eligible things, the question in discussion is: "What determines the will to choose the one rather than the other?" The Arminians said that the will determined itself. Edwards says that the will is determined by the motive which it actually follows.

To motives are therefore ascribed a positive power. They are causes, and, so far as a tendency to the occasionalism of Malebranche which is evident in his writings allowed, Edwards ascribed to them efficient causation. They could be calculated, and upon a perfect knowledge of their nature and potency the future action of a being influenced by them could be predicted. In this the subjective conditions which determine the influence of motives were not neglected, but still positive power was left to the objective motive.

Thus the prevailing motive both determines that the action of the will shall take place and also how it shall take place. It does this because it possesses a certain attractive power, or because it is an apparent good. And, inasmuch as it acts as a cause, it is evident that the greatest apparent good in any group of conflicting apparent goods will determine the will. Hence the maxim: "The will is as the greatest apparent good."

Hence the choices of the will are as necessary as the events of the physical world. They are caused by motives in the same sense as these are caused by the forces of objects and events in nature. Yet this does not infringe upon the liberty of man, because it leaves him so far entirely able to do what he wills; and this is the meaning of liberty and the only meaning it can have. To suppose that freedom means that a man can will as he wills, is to involve oneself in self-contradiction. The only conceivable liberty is external liberty.

Virtue or vice consists in the nature of the choice made in any case irrespective of its origin. Commands and threats are motives which may be employed, but whatever the motives, as a man chooses, so is he.

Such is a summary view of the theory brought forward in answer to Whitby. Its importance demands that it be presented in the very words of its author. After some preliminary definitions, which have been already noted, Edwards begins the development of his theme by defining the determination of the will. He says: "By determining the will, if the phrase be used with any meaning, must be intended causing that the act of the will should be thus and not otherwise," etc.

Now, evidently Edwards' meaning in the further development of his theme will be dependent upon the meaning attached by him to the word "causing." This he elsewhere explains in the following words:

Sometimes by moral necessity is meant that necessity of connection and consequence which arises from such moral causes as the strength of inclination or motives, and the connection which there is in many cases between these and such certain volitions and actions . . . By natural necessity as applied to men I mean such necessity as men are under through the force of natural causes as distinguished from what are called moral causes . . . This difference, however, does not lie so much in the nature of the connection as in the two terms connected.

The causes are motives, which are thus defined:

By motive I mean the whole of that which moves, excites, or invites the mind to volition, whether that be one thing singly, or many things conjunctly. Many particular things may concur and unite their strength to induce the mind; and when it is so, all together are as one complex motive. And when I speak of the strongest motive, I have respect to the strength of the whole that operates to induce a particular act of volition whether that be the strength of one thing alone or many together.

The law of the action of motives is thus expressed:

Things that exist in the view of the mind have their strength, tendency, or advantage to move, or excite its will, from many things appertaining to the nature and circumstances of the thing viewed, the nature and circumstances of the mind that views, and the degree and manner of its view; of which it would perhaps be hard to make a perfect enumeration. But so much I think may be determined in general, without room for controversy, that whatever is perceived or apprehended by an intelligent and voluntary agent, which has the nature and influence of a motive to volition or choice, is considered or viewed as good; nor has it any tendency to engage the election of the soul in any further degree than it appears such. For to say otherwise, would be to say that things that appear good have a tendency, by the appearance they make, to engage the mind to elect them, some other way than by their appearing eligible to it; which is absurd. And therefore it must be true, in some sense, that the will always is, as the greatest apparent good is.

Edwards' system is thus a system of necessity, and avowedly so. But it is not a system of physical necessity, and he is at considerable pains to make this plain, futile as the distinction will prove to be under his management of the theory. He expresses himself variously. At one time he says:

Metaphysical or philosophical necessity is nothing different from . . . certainty. I speak not now of the certainty of knowledge, but the certainty that is in things themselves, which is the foundation of the certainty of the knowledge.

At another time:

Philosophical necessity is really nothing else than the full and fixed connection between the things signified by the subject and predicate of the proposition which affirms something to be true . . . And in this sense I use the word necessity in the following discourse when I endeavor to prove that necessity is not inconsistent with liberty.

Broad and free as this may sound, it is to be read in connection with what appears upon the next following page:

The only way that anything that is to come to pass hereafter is or can be necessary, is by a connection with something that is necessary in its own nature, or something that already is or has been; so that, the one being supposed, the other certainly follows.

Now, it is to be remembered that this "connection" is by causation.

Equally careful is Edwards to define the phrase "moral inability." He says:

Moral inability consists . . . either in the want of inclination; or the strength of a contrary inclination [meaning here, probably, an affection of the sensibility]; or the want of sufficient motives in view, to induce and excite the act of the will, or the strength of apparent motives to the contrary. Or both these may be resolved into one; and it may be said in one word, that moral inability consists in the opposition or want of inclination [meaning here, probably, a choice of the wills.

The decisive passage upon the meaning of the word "liberty" in Edwards' scheme is the following:

The plain and obvious meaning of the words freedom and liberty in common speech is the power, opportunity, or advantage that any one has, to do as he pleases. Or in other words, his being free from hindrance or impediment in the way of doing or conducting in any respect as he wills.

In this he confessedly follows Locke, and refers to him for further amplification of the point. And, quite in Locke's vein, he goes on to say, a little farther down: "To talk of liberty or the contrary as belonging to the very will itself, is not to speak good sense."

These may suffice for quotations from the first part of the work, which is taken up with definitions. The second part considers "whether there is or can be any such sort of freedom of the will as that wherein Arminians place the essence of the liberty of all moral agents; and whether any such thing ever was or can be conceived of!" The answer is, of course, "No," and is arrived at by the most acute, minute, and elaborate reasoning, discussion, refutation, and (supposed) annihilation of the enemies' position; for Edwards did not intend to leave the least possibility of an answer.

Discussing the "self-determining power of the will," he says:

Therefore, if the will determines all its own free acts, the soul determines them in the exercise of a power of willing and choosing; or, which is the same thing, it determines them of choice; it determines its own acts by choosing its own acts. If the will determines the will, then choice orders and determines the choice; and acts of choice are subject to the decision and follow the conduct of other acts of choice. And, therefore, if the will determines all its own free acts, then every free act of choice is determined by a preceding act of choice, choosing that act. And if that preceding act of the will be also a free act, then, by these principles, in this act, too, the will is self-determined: that is, this, in like manner, is an act that the soul voluntarily chooses; or, which is the same thing, it is an act determined still by a preceding act of the will choosing that. Which brings us directly to a contradiction: for it supposes an act of the will preceding the first act in the whole train, directing and determining the rest; or a free act of the will before the first free act of the will. Or else we must come at last to an act of the will determining the consequent acts, wherein the will is not self-determined and so is not a free act, in this notion of freedom: but if the first act in the train, determining and fixing the rest, be not free, none of them all can be free, as is manifest at first view, but [a "first view" not being enough for a man like Edwards] shall be demonstrated presently.

The following page and a half are an elaborate restatement of this argument, and it is substantially repeated, in varying forms, on a moderate estimate, a hundred times in this treatise. At one time it appears thus:

Still the question returns, wherein lies man's liberty in that antecedent act of will which chose the consequent act. The answer according to the same principles must be, that his liberty in this also lies in his willing as he would, or as he chose, or agreeable to another act of choice preceding that. And so the question returns in infinitum, and the like answer must he made in infinitum. In order to support their opinion, there must be no beginning, but free acts of will must have been chosen by foregoing free acts of will in the soul of every man, without beginning.

This argument, with the other argument that there is no event without a cause, form the only positive arguments of this part of the work, which goes on to consider the possibility of choosing things absolutely indifferent, to explore still further the idea of liberty, and to discuss the connection of volition with motives. The foreknowledge of God comes into the sweep of the theme, and an elaborate biblical argument exhibits the minuteness of the divine foreknowledge of men's volitions, and then Edwards infers necessity, which, as inferred, is "certainty" and, as used, is a causative connection. The third part of the treatise discusses the supposed necessity of the Arminian idea of liberty to moral agency, etc.; and the last part, the chief grounds of the reasoning of the Arminians, without, however, introducing anything essentially new, and with innumerable repetitions of what had already been exhaustively said.

The impression produced by the work was enormous. The new doctrine of a free will had so much to commend itself to the ordinary reason of man that, when a champion of necessarianism again ventured to come forth, and when he succeeded in defending the old positions with such acuteness, and with such an air of invincibleness, the whole world wondered, and the defenders of the old doctrines went back to the old theories with the feeling that now they were forever safe. And yet the work, judged simply upon its merits as an intellectual creation, must be styled a logical failure on a great scale. The ambiguities involved in its fundamental positions have been already pointed out. The application of the law of causality to the operations of the mind is in contravention of the simplest facts of consciousness. The fallacy of the infinite series may be forced upon every argument touching the domain where God and man unite and the spheres of the finite and infinite intersect. If Edwards overthrew freedom by his argument, he also virtually overthrew the existence of God; for if God is required as a cause of the world, then a cause is required for God, and a cause for this cause, and so on ad infinitum. Nor was the work original except in the fullness of its treatment of its theme, and in its minuteness and acuteness. Substantially, as has now been made fully evident, it is a reproduction of Locke's theory. The idea of liberty is the same; of determination by motive; of the different weight of different motives; of the causative relation between motive and action. The argument from causation is in Locke, though obscured by his sensational philosophy; the general conception of the inconceivability of the Arminian position is Locke's; and even the argument of the reductio ad absurdum.

But these defects did not essentially interfere with the service which the treatise was capable of rendering to the progress of New England theology. As a permanent answer to the Arminians, it was a philosophical failure; but, as the case against the Arminians was not purely philosophical, it was capable of meeting them successfully in the more purely theological sphere, and this it did. In maintaining freedom, some of them maintained a "liberty of indifference," or that "equilibrium whereby the will is without antecedent bias." This was not true of Whitby, though he might at times be construed so; but it was true of others. Thus they would destroy, not only the controlling power, but the real influence of motives, and fall back into the old Pelagian view which destroyed the universal depravity of man, and the certainty that without grace he will never repent and turn to God. Now, the real answer to this theory upon its philosophical side is man's consciousness of the influence of motives, and if Edwards proved too much by ascribing to motives causative power, the sound residuum of his argument, when his extravagances were corrected, was effective in giving a basis for the theological doctrines, which were too evidently scriptural to be denied by any who would listen to a biblical argument.

Edwards' discussion of foreknowledge is also noteworthy. His two propositions are: first, God foreknows our volitions; second, foreknowledge infers necessity. His proof of the first proposition is derived from prophecy which has foretold events, even minute ones, depending upon the volitions of men. The argument for the second point is concisely that nothing can be known or foreknown without evidence, and that the only evidence establishing the certainty of future events is the will of God. From this argument he draws the corollary that the decrees of God are no more inconsistent with human liberty than the foreknowledge of God, thus connecting his theme immediately with the subject of election. This was clearly superior to the Arminian reference of the whole subject to the realm of mystery, however unsatisfactory as a rationale of the theme.

However defective, then, the treatise on the will was, its effect was to bring the theology of New England back to Calvinism, and this was a great service. The Arminianism which threatened it was not an Arminianism depending upon better views of the will, though at some points it had them. It was a Pelagianizing Arminianism which denied the essential doctrines of grace. It needed rebuttal. It emphasized the manward side of theology too much, just as the extreme Calvinism of the early day had emphasized the godward side too much. The future lay with neither extreme. New England theology was finally to attempt a better adjustment of these two elements to one another; but it was indispensable that it should not first forget the divine side. This Edwards prevented, and thus made all the following sound development possible.

But Edwards' service was not exhausted in the conservative force of his treatise, or in its negative results. He had propounded a distinction which was not correct or successful as he presented it, but which proved, with a better understanding, of great use to his successors--that between natural and moral ability and inability. In a word, natural ability and inability arise from natural or physical causes; moral ability and inability, from motives, or states of the will which are resolvable, in the last analysis, into motives.

Now, inasmuch as Edwards' "motives" are true causes, moral inability does not really differ in essence from natural; for both are effects. Hence the distinction is sophistical as presented in Edwards. But in Edwards' followers it became correct and valuable, and was of use in distinguishing between what were described as the "can't" of lack of power, and the "can't" which is really "won't." Thus much light was shed at several points upon difficult doctrines. The old Calvinism had had no place for any ability to good, and this had been the paralyzing influence of the early days. Edwards introduced an ability, which in process of time became a true ability, under which revival preaching arose; and good practice in converting men and good theology went together.

Another distinct service rendered by this treatise was the introduction into New England thought of a topic upon which subsequent writers were largely to busy themselves with advantage to the prevailing methods of defending the Christian faith. This topic was the origin of evil. It arose in consequence of the argument urged by the Arminians that necessity made God the author of sin. In attempting to meet them, Edwards simply carried out the system which he had already laid down in the earlier portions of the treatise. It is another example of his thoroughness that he did not adopt the scheme of the Westminster Confession, by which the fall of Adam was referred to his own free will, which acted "contingently." Edwards believed in no contingence. The fall was like every other event in the world proceeding from the will--a volition caused by motives. These motives were in the last analysis presented by God, and in this sense God willed the fall. This is High Calvinism, and substantially supralapsarianism--a theory to which Edwards was in another place to give a death-blow. But Edwards does not prefer the phrase, "God willed the fall;" he rather teaches that God ordered the system in which sin would infallibly come to pass. He draws the line of agency, and so of the authorship of sin, at the action--that is, at the sin--making this man's, upon the testimony of consciousness, to use a modern equivalent for his expressions. For his doctrine as to the divine government he depended upon the Scripture. Thus God is the author of the system, man of the sin.

The immediate outcome of the treatise on the will, in spite of all the drawbacks which we have noted, is to be estimated as an essential service to both theology and religion. It determined that the new school of thought whose foundations Edwards was unconsciously laying should be evangelical, effective, and thorough. But there are larger questions which remain still unanswered. Was the work, ideally considered, such a work as a theologian, bent on really forwarding the cause of theology, ought to write? Was it, in particular, characterized by the disposition to learn from the adversary? Such a question can only be answered in the negative. It was absolute reaction. To Edwards Arminianism and all its works were evil and nothing but evil. Calvinism is essentially determinism. Without a theory of determinism it cannot stand; given a theory of determinism, and the resulting theology must be Calvinistic. Therefore Edwards simply reaffirmed Calvinism, and did it by reaffirming determinism.

In this reply the answer to another question which we must ask is not obscurely hinted. Given such an answer to the spirit of the day, what was likely to be the effect upon the future development of the school, since the labors of Edwards did actually result in a school? Calvinism was essentially a system of abstract logic, deriving the whole framework of the system from the sole causality of God by logical deductions, without much, if any, appeal to consciousness. Considered as a new philosophical proposal, the Arminianism of Whitby was an appeal to consciousness. Had Edwards been disposed to learn from Whitby, he would have asked what the true meaning and value of this proposal was. When, now, this question had been brushed aside without consideration, and determinism strenuously reaffirmed, and especially when this had been done in a treatise of such power as was the Freedom of the Will, what would be the effect upon the future? Could this appeal be permanently ignored? If it could be for a time at least, what would be the tendency of thought under its suppression? Would it be to an ever more reckless disregard of consciousness? Would the divine sovereignty be ever more emphasized with increasing disregard of human agency? Or would the tendency be to recoil from the Edwardean position toward a real freedom? If such a recoil took place, would it be successful? Would men be able to get away from the influence of Edwards to whom they were so deeply indebted; or would their allegiance to him substantially block the way of their progress? Would they recognize the fact when they had fundamentally abandoned him; or would they fail to bring their views into a consistent form because of their allegiance to their great founder? Would the school come at last to a satisfactory position upon this great theme, and formulate a system comprehensive, consistent, and successful; or would it be foredoomed by the very greatness of the treatise which laid its foundation, to an inextricable confusion which, when at last discovered, should lead to a speedy and lamentable downfall?

Such questions a historian, thoroughly penetrated with the historical spirit, would be constrained to ask, as he paused over this remarkable work. Their answer could be gained only by continued studies in the history of the Edwardean school.

 

 

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