A man may choose or prefer the doing of an action proposed, and at the same time not will to do it. Suppose walking is proposed. Now walking may be more pleasing or agreeable to one's mind, than not to walk; therefore, as soon as it is proposed, he may prefer or choose to walk; and at the same time, he may sit still, because he does not will to walk. The choice or preference to walk may necessarily exist in the understanding, when the mind has compared walking with not walking; but the necessity of choice does not make volition, which is an act of the will, necessary. The mind may freely will not to walk, although it is under a physical necessity to choose to walk. In this way necessity and freedom can exist together; and in this way, a man may be bound and free at the same time.' p. 52. What is the reason, we would ask, why the man, in the case here stated, does not will to walk? The most natural answer seems to be, because he does not choose it. Walking is a complicated act, consisting of a series of muscular exertions in the limbs; and to each of these a separate volition is necessary, which is manifest from the care practised at each step in walking, not to pitch the foot into water or filth, nor against any obstacle that might lie in the way. When, therefore, the man, in the above example, chooses the act of walking, he must be supposed to choose the whole of a connected series of efforts, and, at the same time, not to choose the first, on which all the rest depend. Or, in other words, since every act of choosing requires a volition, he must will to walk and not to walk at the same time. This doctrine, that volitions are not caused by any thing acting on the mind, has long since been advanced by some advocates for liberty, though in a little different form. They have contended for an indifferency in the mind, remaining till the acts of the will are past. But this notion appears to be wild and paradoxical. It is hardly possible to conceive, that the mind should remain in a state of indifference, that is, of neutrality, suspense, or equipoise, with regard to acting or not acting, in a case it has fully examined, and in which it has found strong reasons to determine its judgment. While we reject these extravagant notions of liberty, we would not be thought to go to the opposite extreme, and to admit all the dogmas and theories, which have been advanced by the champions of necessity. In admitting that volitions may be called effects, resulting from previous states of mind, we do not a is a man That ma tion, whi not have been a ne by the sa lates all fatality i moved by often bee same und are differe cases, wh urgent, th No person save hims In such ex the reason and feeble the same cases, wh where out determini arbitrary directing d freedom ap mind ever tives; but things of p guineas, ed making the two present and may be for taking o objects to b of the will, separate act acts of the W in which a for the attai because diff New Seri do not assert, that all human volitions are necessary. There is a manifest difference between a real and a necessary cause. That may be denominated the real cause of a particular volition, which did in fact excite it, and without which it would not have taken place. But at the same time, it may not have been a necessary cause, and such as would be always followed by the same effect. We disclaim that doctrine, which annihilates all human freedom and power, and admits a universal fatality in the actions of men. The mind in willing is not moved by the same principle as a balance, to which it has often been compared. Moral causes do not operate with the same undeviating uniformity, as physical. The minds of men are differently affected by the same objects. It is only in those cases, where the reasons for acting are clear, and the motive urgent, that we can trace a uniformity in the conduct of men. No person would hesitate to move from his place in order to save himself from being crushed by a falling tree or building. In such extreme cases, all people would act alike. But where the reasons, which determine the choice of actions, are slight and feeble, different persons will take different courses, and the same person act differently, at different times. In those cases, which moral writers have called indifferent, that is, where outward circumstances present no distinct grounds for determining the choice, volitions appear to be produced by an arbitrary power of the mind. We experience no difficulty in directing our actions in these cases, and it is in these, that our freedom appears the most perfect It is not pretended that the mind ever exerts a self-determining power in opposition to motives; but we are sometimes called to make an election in things of precisely the same value; as, in choosing one of two guineas, equally bright, pure, and heavy. The motive for making the choice is the worth of the coin offered; but as the two presented to our option are regarded as of equal value, and may be obtained with equal ease, we can have no motive for taking one in preference to the other. In selecting the objects to be pursued, and in all the more important decisions of the will, we are influenced by special reasons for each separate act; but this is not the case in all the subordinate acts of the will, as in determining the exact order and manner in which a number of unconnected actions shall be performed, for the attainment of an end proposed. The object is not lost, because different means may be employed with equal advanNew Series, No. 8. 51 tage in procuring it. Unless the mind had power to act in these minute affairs, without being impelled in each instance by a superior motive, the ordinary business of life could not be performed. From the foregoing remarks it will appear, how far we consider the doctrine of our author, formerly stated, correct, viz. that the mind in willing is not influenced by any causes ab extra. For the truth of what we have said on this subject, every one must judge for himself, by carefully watching the operations of his own mind. This is the only tribunal to which an appeal can be made. The moral freedom of man is not a question of speculation, to be settled by abstract reasoning. It is a question of fact to be decided by feeling. It is on this ground, that we admit the doctrine as true. We believe we are free, because we feel that we are So. We have the same evidence of our freedom, that we have of our accountableness, our merit or demerit. It is an original principle of our constitution, for which we have the clear and intuitive evidence of consciousness. Having detained our readers longer than we intended, on this first article of human liberty, we will not further fatigue them by any particular remarks on the subjects that follow. The author examines with attention and ability the sentiments of Doctors Edwards, Dwight, Hopkins, and others, on several controverted subjects of morals and theology. We agree with him in most of his criticisms on these authors, though some of them are minute and merely verbal. We are gratified with the candor and deference with which he examines their doctrines, evincing thereby, that, while he differs from them in sentiment, he has a deep respect for their characters. The author of the little volume we have been examining, has seen fit to conceal his name from the public, though for what reason we cannot tell. There appears to be nothing in the character of the book, which need make its author very solicitous on this point, one way or the other. There are no swelling pretensions to uncommon powers, or extensive erudition. The style of the book is by no means elevated, nor even in all places correct. We should judge, that the writer had been more conversant with books of speculation and controversy, than with works of taste. His mind seems to be naturally formed for dry and abstruse investigations; and in many places he gives evidence of mental strength and discrimina ART. XX. 1821. THIS NO tained. W scenes of S to the task who held t good comp as he could themselves would be so rance of thi had despatel of Scottish commencem from the don old routine o sion was cher was but temp complishment crated to nov dissipated this English histor was supposed of the Tweed: in broad lowla tion. We are not pleased with the manner, in which he commences his work. He attempts to enumerate and define the various powers and operations of the mind. There is something very imposing in this method, and which must naturally lead inexperienced readers into error. They would be led to view the mind, not as an uncompounded substance, but as an assemblage of various parts, to which separate functions were allotted, and which had not an inseparable connexion with each other. Many writers on pneumatology have committed the same fault, and some have displayed their ingenuity in multiplying the number of original principles belonging to the mind. All such attempts are worse than useless. Instead of advancing mental philosophy, they serve rather to retard its progress, by introducing into it darkness and confusion. ART. XX.-Valerius, a Roman Story. 3 vols. Edinburgh, 1821. THIS novel confirms us in fears, which we have long entertained. While the author of Waverly confined himself to scenes of Scottish history, those who were subjected by him to the task of reading a tale in four volumes, every six months; who held their literary reputation, not to say their access to good company on the tenure of buying and perusing as fast as he could write, and Mr Constable could print,-consoled themselves with the idea, that the range of Scottish history would be soon exhausted. They had even the distinct assurance of this most remarkable author himself, that when they had despatched his three first works, in which the delineation of Scottish manners was intended to be brought down to the commencement of this century; they should be released from the domination of his spell, and allowed to plod on in the old routine of their professional authors. A general persuasion was cherished, that this interruption of the order of things was but temporary, and that the finest talents and rarest accomplishments of the age were not permanently to be consecrated to novel writing. The publication of Kenilworth finally dissipated this delusion, by transferring to pure English ground, English history, and English manners the same charm, which was supposed to be peculiar to associations with the other side of the Tweed; a charm so potent as to extend to the dialogues in broad lowland Scottish, which we, in imitation of the good old father who believed because it was impossible, admired because we could not understand. Kenilworth, we consider, as having fairly broken down the main sea-dike; and we see not what is henceforward to protect any portion of history or tribe of men from the merciless inroads of this uncommon personage. Meantime, imitators are rapidly springing up, who are following the hint, and pushing their fortunes in all directions; and we have here before us a tale of great interest and beauty, of which the scene is placed at Rome in the days of Trajan. To review all the good novels, poems, and sketch-books that come out, is wholly impossible. We have given up the undertaking long since, in despair. And they pass, moreover, so much more extensively and rapidly into the hands of the reading community than our own speculations, that the task would be as useless as difficult. With several more interesting works, therefore, of this department unnoticed, we beg leave to call the attention of our readers to Valerius, as a novel, not so well adapted, perhaps, in the choice of subject, as others of the same class for general reading, but strongly entitled to notice, for the high degree of respectability with which it is executed. Caius Valerius, the hero of the story, is the son of a Roman soldier, who, having espoused a British wife, during his campaigns in Britain, under Vespasian and Titus, returned to this island from the intrigues of Rome to end his days. His son, Caius Valerius, our hero, was therefore educated in Britain, and the story commences with his being summoned to Rome by Licinius, his relative, a popular jurisconsult and orator of the day, in order to receive a rich inheritance, which had descended to him. Valerius sails with Boto, a British slave, on board a tin ship, up the straights of Hercules to Ostia, and on the voyage forms the acquaintance of Sabinus, a centurion, who is also returning to Rome, and who plays a considerable part in the action. The business of the story begins with the arrival of the hero at Rome. But having invariably found those reviews of novels rather dull, in which a minute historical analysis is given of the work, we shall profit by the experience, and not fall into the error; but present our readers with a brief account of the author's plan, and a few interesting extracts. The author's general plan is to introduce the reader to the public of a tale characte he has n manners into hist of pictu the prin pleading introduc his succ the law attached Romans scarcely a philoso the Gree to repres general, one of th author h Xerophr means n Stoic sc Sextus. with his think, in Rubellia, We shall quote a v and Rube Anothe is the des the wild b tion of the but thorou lowing de amphithea Musing knew so l straight wa last caught |