He that has a power to act or not, according to the determination of his' judgment, is a free agent. He that has his chains knocked off, and the prisondoors set open to him, is perfectly at liberty, because he may either go or stay as he likes best; and he ceases not to be free, though his preference be absolutely determined to stay by the darkness of the night, illness of the weather, or want of other lodging.

The more strongly we are determined to the unal terable pursuit of happiness in general, the more are we free from any necessary determination of the will to a particular action. Whatever necessity determines the pursuit of real bliss, the same necessity establishes suspense, deliberation, and scrutiny of each successive desire. That the choices of men are so various and contrary, argues, not that they do not all pursue good, but that the same thing is not good to every man alike. The philosophers of old might as reasonably have enquired whether the best relish were to be found in apples, plumbs, or nuts, as whether the Summum bonum consisted in riches, bodily delights, virtue, or contemplation. The best relish is what best pleases each particular palate; the greatest happiness is in those things which produce to each the greatest pleasure: these in different men are very different things. If therefore men in this life only have hope and enjoyment, it is not unreason

able that they should seek their happiness by avoiding all things that displease them, and pursuing all that delight them; for if there be no prospect beyond the grave, the inference is certainly right, "Let us eat and drink,-let us enjoy what we delight in-for to-morrow we die."

Men may choose different things, and yet all choose right, supposing them only like a company of poor insects, some bees, delighted with the sweetness of flowers, some beetles, delighted with other kinds of viands,-which having enjoyed for a season, they cease to be, and exist no more for ever.

Liberty plainly consists in a power to act according as we will: as this only comprehends actions consecutive to volition, it has been asked, whether we are at liberty to will?—I reply, that in most cases a man cannot forbear the act of volition; but that in choosing a remote good as an end to be pursued, he is at liberty with respect to willing; for he may suspend his choice for or against the thing proposed, till he has examined its nature, and probable consequences: but when he has once chosen it, it becomes a part of his happiness, excites desire, which proportionably gives him uneasiness, determines his will, and makes him act in pursuit of his choice.

Thus we see how a man may justly incur punishment, though in all the actions which he wills, he

necessarily follows his judgment; for by too hasty a choice he may impose on himself wrong measures of good and evil, which yet influence his conduct as if they were true: but the eternal law and nature of things must not be altered.-The question still remains,-how men come to prefer the worse to the better? To solve which, we must consider whence arise those uneasinesses that determine our voluntary actions:-Some originate in causes not in our power; as pains of body, from disease, or outward injury, the contemplation of future good not sufficing to raise such desires as may counterbalance the present uneasiness, and keep the will steady in the choice of virtuous actions:-others arise from our desires of absent good, which are proportionate to the judgment we form, and the relish we excite. When present happiness or misery are alone considered, independent of consequences, we never chuse amiss: Things in their present enjoyment are what they seem,—the apparent and real good are always the same: so that

if

every action were concluded within itself, and drew no consequences after it, we should infallibly prefer the best were the pains of honest industry and starvation set together before us, no body could doubt which to chuse.

The measures of good and evil which govern our choice depend very much on the opinion we may form of a future state, in which our happiness or

misery will depend on our behaviour here. For as nothing of pleasure or pain in this life can bear any proportion to the happiness or misery of an immortal soul, we shall prefer an action not on account of the advantage it may produce here, but for its tendency to secure happiness hereafter.

To a creature endued with foresight, things are good or bad not only with respect to present pleasure or pain, but with regard also to our view of their remote consequences. Most of our unhappiness arises from the errors we make in comparing the present with the future: for as objects near our view are apt to be thought greater than remote ones of a larger size, so in the pleasures and pains, those which are future generally have the disadvantage in the comparison: for small matters in possession we part with great ones in reversion. We are very prone to deceive ourselves by imagining that the probabilities of things future cannot amount to any thing like certainty. Since a Future Life is at least possible, a preference of vice to virtue is manifestly a wrong judgment.

Before I conclude this chapter, I will say a few words more on Liberty, and the two sorts of action, motion, and Thinking.

Some place Liberty in Indifferency antecedent to the determination of the will; I wish they had informed us whether this indifferency too was antece

dent to the judgment of the Understanding :-for the determination of the will immediately follows the judgment of the understanding; and to place liberty in an indifference previous to the judgment of the mind, is placing it in a state of which we know nothing.-Not minding the phrase, I will consent to say, that liberty is placed in indifferency; but then this remains after the determination of the will; and is not of the man, but of his operative powers; which having the same capability before as after the `determination of the will, may be said to be in a state of indifferency. I have the ability to move my hand, or not, and so am free: my will determines that operative power to rest, and I am still free; because the indifferency of that my operative power to act or not still remains, for my will might have ordered the contrary: but if my hand be seized with a palsy, the indifferency of the operative power is gone, and with it Liberty.

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Motion and thinking, though called actions, are not always perfectly so: for where a substance that has motion or thought receives the impression purely from without, and acts merely by its capacity to receive such impression, such a power is not properly active, but only a passive capacity.

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