strongest motive mean only the motive that prevails, it will be true indeed that the strongest motive prevails; but the proposition will be identical, and mean no more than that the strongest motive is the strongest motive. From this surely no conclusion can be drawn.

If it should be said, That by the strength of a motive is not meant its prevalence, but the cause of its prevalence; that we measure the cause by its effect, and from the superiority of the effect conclude the superiority of the cause, as we conclude that to be the heaviest weight which bears down the scale: I answer, That, according to this explication of the axiom, it takes for granted that motives are the causes, and the sole causes of actions. Nothing is left to the agent, but to be acted upon by the motives, as the balance is by the weights. The axiom supposes, that the agent does not act, but is acted upon: and, from this supposition, it is concluded that he does not act. This is to reason in a circle, or rather it is not reasoning, but begging the question.

Contrary motives may very properly be compared to advocates pleading the opposite sides of a cause at the bar. It would be very weak reasoning to say, that such an advocate is the most powerful pleader, because sentence was given on his side. The sentence is in the power of the judge, not of the advocate. It is equally weak reasoning, in proof of necessity, to say, such a motive prevailed, therefore it is the strongest; since the defenders of liberty maintain that the determination was made by the man, and not by the motive.

We are therefore brought to this issue, that unless some measure of the strength of motives can be found distinct from their prevalence, it cannot be determined, whether the strongest motive always prevails or not. If such a measure can be found and applied, we may be able to judge of the truth of this maxim, but not otherwise.

Every thing that can be called a motive, is addressed either to the animal or to the rational part of our nature. Motives of the former kind are common to us with the brutes; those of the latter are peculiar to rational beings. We shall beg leave, for distinction's sake, to call the former animal motives, and the latter, rational.

Hunger is a motive in a dog to eat; so is it in a man. According to the strength of the appetite, it gives a stronger or a weaker impulse to eat. And the same thing may be said of every other appetite and passion. Such animal motives give an impulse to the agent, to which he yields with ease; and, if the impulse be strong, it cannot be resisted without an effort which requires a greater or a less degree of self-command. Such motives are not addressed to the rational powers. Their influence is immediately upon the will. We feel their influence, and judge of their strength, by the conscious effort which is necessary to resist them.

When a man is acted upon by contrary motives of this kind, he finds it casy to yield to the strongest. They are like two forces pushing him in contrary directions. To yield to the strongest, he needs only to be passive. By exerting his own force, he may resist; but this requires an effort of which he is conscious. The strength of motives of this kind is perceived, not by our judgment, but by our feeling; and that is the strongest of contrary motives, to which he can yield with ease, or which it requires an effort of self-command to resist; and this we may call the animal test of the strength of motives.

If it be asked, whether in motives of this kind, the strongest always prevails? I answer, That in brute-animals, I believe it does. They do not appear to have any self-command; an appetite or passion in them is over

come only by a stronger contrary one. On this account, they are not acountable for their actions, nor can they be the subjects of law.

But in men who are able to exercise their rational powers, and have any degree of self-command, the strongest animal motive does not always prevail. The flesh does not always prevail against the spirit, though too often it does. And if men were necessarily determined by the strongest animal motive, they could no more be accountable, or capable of being governed by law, than brutes are.

Let us next consider rational motives, to which the name of motive is more commonly and more properly given. Their influence is upon the judg ment, by convincing us that such an action ought to be done, that it is our duty, or conducive to our real good, or to some end which we have determined to pursue.

They do not give a blind impulse to the will, as animal motives do. They convince, but they do not impel, unless, as may often happen, they excite some passion of hope, or fear, or desire. Such passions may be excited by conviction, and may operate in its aid, as other animal motives do. But there may be conviction without passion; and the conviction of what we ought to do, in order to some end which we have judged fit to be pursued, is what I call a rational motive.

Brutes, I think, cannot be infiuenced by such motives. They have not the conception of ought and ought not. Children acquire these conceptions as their rational powers advance; and they are found in all of ripe age, who have the human faculties.

If there be any competition between rational motives, it is evident, that the strongest, in the eye of reason, is that which it is most our duty and our real happiness to follow. Our duty and our real happiness are ends which are inseparable; and they are the ends which every man endowed with reason, is conscious he ought to pursue in preference to all others. This we may call the rational test of the strength of motives. A motive which is the strongest according to the animal test, may be, and very often is, the weakest according to the rational.

The grand and the important competition of contrary motives is between the animal on the one hand, and the rational on the other. This is the conflict between the flesh and the spirit, upon the event of which the character of men depends.

If it be asked, which of these is the strongest motive? The answer is, That the first is commonly strongest, when they are tried by the animal test. If they were not so, human life would be no state of trial. It would not be a warfare, nor would virtue require any effort or self-command. No man would have any temptation to do wrong. But when we try the contrary motives by the rational test, it is evident that the rational motive is always the strongest.

And now, I think, it appears, that the strongest motive, according to either of the tests I have mentioned, does not always prevail.

In every wise and virtuous action, the motive that prevails is the strongest, according to the rational test, but commonly the weakest according to the animal. In every foolish, and in every vicious action, the motive that prevails is commonly the strongest according to the animal test, but always the weakest according to the rational.

6. It is true that we reason from men's motives to their actions, and, in many cases with great probability, but never with absolute certainty. And to infer from this, that men are necessarily determined by motives, is very weak reasoning.

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For, let us suppose, for a moment, that men have moral liberty, I would ask, what use may they be expected to make of this liberty? It may surely be expected, that, of the various actions within the sphere of their power, they will choose what pleases them most for the present, or what appears to be most for their real, though distant good. When there is a competition between these motives, the foolish will prefer present gratification; the wise, the greater and more distant good.

Now, is not this the very way in which we see men act? Is it not from the presumption that they act in this way, that we reason from their motives to their actions? Surely it is. Is it not weak reasoning, therefore, to argue, that men have not liberty, because they act in that very way in which they would act if they had liberty? It would surely be more like reasoning to draw the contrary conclusion from the same premises.

7. Nor is it better reasoning to conclude, that, if men are not necessarily determined by motives, all their actions must be capricious.

To resist the strongest animal motives, when duty requires, is so far from being capricious, that it is, in the highest degree, wise and virtuous. And we hope this is often done by good men.

To act against rational motives, must always be foolish, vicious, or capricious. And it cannot be denied that there are too many such actions done. But is it reasonable to conclude, that because liberty may be abused by the foolish and the vicious, therefore it can never be put to its proper use, which is to act wisely and virtuously?

8. It is equally unreasonable to conclude, that if men are not necessarily determined by motives, rewards and punishments would have no effect. With wise men they will have their due effect; but not always with the foolish and the vicious.

Let us consider what effect rewards and punishments do really, and in fact, produce, and what may be inferred from that effect, upon each of the opposite systems of liberty and of necessity.

I take it for granted that, in fact, the best and wisest laws, both human and divine, are often transgressed, notwithstanding the rewards and punishIf any man should deny this fact, I know ments that are annexed to them. not how to reason with him.

From this fact, it may be inferred with certainty, upon the supposition of necessity, that, in every instance of transgression, the motive of reward or punishment was not of sufficient strength to produce obedience to the law. This implies a fault in the lawgiver; but there can be no fault in the transgressor, who acts mechanically by the force of motives. We might as well impute a fault to the balance, when it does not raise a weight of two pounds by the force of one pound.

Upon the supposition of necessity, there can be neither reward nor punishment, in the proper sense, as those words imply good and ill desert. Reward and punishment are only tools employed to produce a mechanical effect. When the effect is not produced, the tool must be unfit or wrong applied.

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Upon the supposition of liberty, rewards and punishments will have a effect the wise and the good; but not so upon the foolish and proper the vicious when opposed by their animal passions or bad habits; and this is just what we see to be the fact. Upon this supposition, the transgression of the law implies no defect in the law, no fault in the lawgiver; the fault is solely in the transgressor. And it is upon this supposition only, that there can be either reward or punishment, in the proper sense of the words, because it is only on this supposition that there can be good or ill desert.

CHAPTER V.

LIBERTY CONSISTENT WITH GOVERNMENT.

WHEN it is said that liberty would make us absolutely ungovernable by God or man; to understand the strength of this conclusion, it is necessary to know distinctly what is meant by government. There are two kinds of government, very different in their nature. The one we may, for distinction's sake, call mechanical government, the other moral. The first is the government of beings which have no active power, but are merely passive and acted upon; the second, of intelligent and active beings.

An instance of mechanical government may be, that of a master or commander of a ship at sea. Supposing her skilfully built and furnished with every thing proper for the destined voyage, to govern her properly for this purpose requires much art and attention: and, as every art has its rules, or laws, so has this. But by whom are those laws to be obeyed, or those rules observed? not by the ship, surely, for she is an inactive being, but by the governor. A sailor may say that she does not obey the rudder; and he has a distinct meaning when he says so, and is perfectly understood. But he means not obedience in the proper, but in a metaphorical sense: for, in the proper sense, the ship can no more obey the rudder, than she can give a command. Every motion, both of the ship and rudder, is exactly proportioned to the force impressed, and in the direction of that force. The ship never disobeys the law of motion, even in the metaphorical sense; and they are the only laws she can be subject to.

The sailor, perhaps, curses her for not obeying the rudder; but this is not the voice of reason, but of passion, like that of the losing gamester, when he curses the dice. The ship is as innocent as the dice.

Whatever may happen during the voyage, whatever may be its issue, the ship, in the eye of reason, is neither an object of approbation nor of blame; because she does not act, but is acted upon. If the material, in any part, be faulty; Who put it to that use? If the form; Who made it? If the rules of navigation were not observed; Who transgressed them? If a storm occasioned any disaster, it was no more in the power of the ship than of the master.

Another instance to illustrate the nature of mechanical government may be, That of the man who makes and exhibits a puppet-show. The puppets, in all their diverting gesticulations, do not move, but are moved by an impulse secretly conveyed, which they cannot resist. If they do not play their parts properly, the fault is only in the maker or manager of the machinery. Too much, or too little force was applied, or it was wrong directed. No reasonable man imputes either praise or blame to the puppets, but solely to their maker or their governor.

If we suppose, for a moment, the puppets to be endowed with understanding and will, but without any degree of active power, this will make no change in the nature of their government: for understanding and will, without some degree of active power, can produce no effect. They might, upon this supposition, be called intelligent machines; but they would be machines still, as much subject to the laws of motion as inanimate matter, and therefore incapable of any other than mechanical government.

Let us next consider the nature of moral government. This is the

government of persons who have reason and active power, and have laws prescribed to them for their conduct, by a legislator. Their obedience is obedience in the proper sense; it must therefore be their own act and deed, and consequently they must have power to obey or to disobey. To prescribe laws to them which they have not power to obey, or to require a service beyond their power, would be tyranny and injustice in the highest degree. When the laws are equitable, and prescribed by just authority, they produce moral obligation in those that are subject to them, and disobedience is a crime deserving punishment. But if the obedience be impossible; if the transgression be necessary; it is self-evident, that there can be no moral obligation to what is impossible, that there can be no crime in yielding to necessity, and that there can be no justice in punishing a person for what it was not in his power to avoid. These are first principles in morals, and, to every unprejudiced mind, as self-evident as the axioms of mathematics. The whole science of morals must stand or fall with them. Having thus explained the nature both of mechanical and of moral government, the only kinds of government I am able to conceive, it is easy to see how far liberty or necessity agrees with either.

On the one hand, I acknowledge that necessity agrees perfectly with mechanical government. This kind of government is most perfect when the governor is the sole agent; every thing done is the doing of the governor only. The praise of every thing well done is his solely; and his is the blame if there be any thing ill done, because he is the sole agent.

It is true that, in common language, praise or dispraise is often metaphorically given to the work; but, in propriety, it belongs solely to the author. Every workman understands this perfectly, and takes to himself very justly the praise or dispraise of his own work.

On the other hand, it is no less evident, that, on the supposition of ne cessity in the governed, there can be no moral government. There can be neither wisdom nor equity in prescribing laws that cannot be obeyed. There can be no moral obligation upon beings that have no active power. There can be no crime in not doing what it was impossible to do; nor can there be justice in punishing such omission.

If we apply these theoretical principles to the kinds of government which do actually exist, whether human or divine, we shall find that, among men, even mechanical government is imperfect.

Men do not make the matter they work upon. Its various kinds, and the qualities belonging to each kind, are the work of God. The laws of nature, to which it is subject, are the work of God. The motions of the atmosphere and of the sea, the heat and cold of the air, the rain and wind, which are useful instruments in most human operations, are not in our power. So that, in all the mechanical productions of men, the work is more to be ascribed to God than to man.

Civil government among men is a species of moral government, but imperfect, as its lawgivers and its judges are. Human laws may be unwise or unjust; human judges may be partial or unskilful. But in all equitable civil governments, the maxims of moral government above mentioned are acknowledged as rules which ought never to be violated. Indeed, the rules of justice are so evident to all men, that the most tyrannical govern ments profess to be guided by them, and endeavour to palliate what is contrary to them by the plea of necessity.

That a man cannot be under an obligation to what is impossible; that he cannot be criminal in yielding to necessity, nor justly punished for what