been now explained, is a reasonable doctrine, and in accordnce with all experience, if with the volition you include the motive, if with the choice you take in the desire. But to suppose a volition contrary to the prevailing inclination is inconsistent with all experience; and, as has been shown, such a liberty or power would disqualify a man for being an accountable moral agent. In the last century an able metaphysical writer, convinced that the common doctrine of the self-determining power of the will could not stand, invented a new hypothesis. His leading idea is, that we do not choose an object because we desire it, but desire it because we choose it. According to this view of Archbishop King, in his work on the "Origin of Evil," there must be a state of absolute indifference prior to an act of choice; for all love or attachment to an object, and all desire of possessing it, are produced by the act of the mind in choosing it. This is a complete inversion in the order of the exercises of the mind. Though recommended by high authority, and ingeniously defended by its author, it seems strange that it should have found any respectable abettors. But Dr. Watts, in his Essay on the "Freedom of the will in God and the creatures," adopts the outlines of the archbishop's scheme, and defends its principles by many arguments. This led President Edwards, in his celebrated work on the Will, to take particular pains to refute this false theory. The indifference of which he treats is that which appertains to this scheme. Many, however, have been led, from an acquaintance with the work of Edwards, to suppose that the doctrine of indifference, as refuted by this great man, is common to all who maintain the opinion of the self-determining power of the will; which is far from being the case. arise from malice or avarice, the volition prompting the act will be wicked. We do not, therefore, trace actions to their true moral source when we ascertain the volition from which they proceed; we must always go one step higher, and ascertain the motives. When an investigation is made into the character of an act of which some one is accused, the main point, which by witnesses the court and jury wish to ascertain, is, from what motives the accused acted. According as this is determined, so is he judged to be innocent or guilty. It hence appears, that the true and ultimate source of the morality of actions, is not found in the will, but in the desires and affections. The simple act of volition, namely, a determination to do a certain act, is always the same, whatever be the motive. And to ascertain that an action proceeds from an act of will, only determines that it is the act of a particular agent, but gives us no knowledge respecting the true moral quality of the act. This will be found universally true. Two men are seen giving money to the poor; the acts are the same, and the volitions preceding the acts and prompting them are the same; and as we cannot see the heart, we naturally judge that both acts are alike good. But if it should be revealed to us, that one of the persons was influenced entirely by a love for the praise of men, and the other, by a sincere regard for the welfare of the poor, we should immediately make a wide difference between the acts, in our moral judgment. We should still be convinced, however, that the volitions leading to the acts were the same, the only difference being in the motives. It is clear, then, that men are more accountable for their motives than for any thing else; and that, primarily, morality consists in the motives; that is, the affections. WHETHER MEN ARE ACCOUNTABLE FOR THEIR There are two maxims on this point, which we must endeavour to reconcile, as there is an apparent repugnance between them. The first is, that every action takes its character from the motive from which it proceeds. The second is, that every moral act is voluntary, and therefore, that desires and feelings which precede volition cannot be of a moral nature. This difficulty seems to have perplexed the perspicacious mind of Dr. Chalmers; for, perceiving that our desires and affections do possess a moral character, he labours, through a number of pages, to prove that, in as far as they are such, they are influenced by the will. The truth, however, is, that many of them are uninfluenced by preceding volition, and the whole reasoning of the learned author is unsatisfactory. The true solution is to be found in the ambiguity of language. When it is asserted that all moral actions are voluntary, the meaning is, either that by actions only external actions are meant, or that under the word voluntary, the affections of the mind which precede volition are included. No act of the body can take place without an action of the will preceding it; so that the maxim is true, as it relates to external acts. But it is also true in relation to mental acts, if we give a certain degree of extension to the word "voluntary," that is, if we use it as synonymous with spontaneous. Our desires are as free and spontaneous as our volitions, and when it is said that every moral act must be voluntary, the word is used in this comprehensive sense. There is no need, therefore, to prove that our affections must have received their complexion from a preceding volition. The judgment of the moral faculty in regard to the moral character of the desires and affections, is as clear and undoubted as of the volitions. Nay, the volitions receive their moral character from the quality of the motives which produce them; so that the very same volition may be good or bad, according to the moral character of the motives by which it is produced. The volition requisite in order to pull a trigger and let off a gun, is the same, let the motive be what it may. It is a determination to perform that specific act, and if it be performed by an insane person, there will be no morality in the volition. If the same volition be put forth by a person acting in his just defence, the volition and ensuing act will be good; but if the volition to shoot a man Dr. Thomas Reid, in his work on the Active Powers, endeavours to maintain his doctrine that the will is not always governed by motives, by a reference to a certain distinction. Animal motives act by a blind impulse on the will, without regard to remote consequences. Rational motives operate by the force of reasonable considerations. Dr. Reid asserts that these classes of motives are so widely different, that their influence can never be compared: that what may be the strongest of one class, may be the weakest of the other, and that the mind must determine between them. The distinction is no doubt just. There are principles in the human constitution, which act on the will with great force, by a blind impulse. Such are the appetites and passions, and the desire of happiness, and especially the desire to escape pungent pain, at present experienced. The appetite of hunger urges the subject of it to eat, whether it can be done lawfully and consistently with health, or not. This influence is sensibly present, and it requires some strength of purpose to resist it, when the agent is convinced that the act cannot be done with propriety. Here then is the simultaneous operation of an animal and a rational motive; and it is evident that they counteract each other, and that according to the strength of one or the other, the will is determined this way or that way. It is not true, therefore, that these different kinds of motives cannot be compared as to their effective force. The fact is, they are brought into comparison every day, and every day victories are obtained by one over the other, according to the strength or influence which they respectively possess at the moment. Hunger impels a man to eat; reason tells him that it will be injurious to health. Here is a fair trial of strength between the force of blind appetite, and a rational regard for health. If the appetite be very strong, it will require a strong resolution to oppose it. In such cases, however, appetite commonly prevails; but not without resistance. In every case of the kind, there is a trial of strength between these different motives. Suppose food to be placed before a hungry man; if there be no considerations of duty or utility to prevent, he will of course indulge his appetite. But if he should be informed that the food is poisoned, although he be still impelled by his appetite to eat, yet the love of life or fear of death will be sufficient to induce him to refrain. Suppose, again, that the food is the property of another, whose consent to use it cannot be obtained. Here the moral feelings stand in the way of indulgence: and upon the comparative strength of his appetite and of the vigour of his conscience will depend his determination. So far is it from being true then, that animal and rational motives cannot be compared, in regard to their influence on the will, that there is nothing in human life more common than the experience of the struggle for mastery between the higher and lower principles of our nature When it is said that the mind determines between these contending motives, it is true, but not in the sense intended. It is true that the mind determines, and of course the volition is on one side or the other; but this determination is not independent of the strength of the contending motives, being always in accordance with the strongest existing desires. There is this important difference between animal and rational motives, that a sensible impulse of the former as merely felt, is not of a moral nature. The hunger of a man is no more moral than the hunger of a beast. These animal feelings are unavoidable and constitutional. The point at which such feelings begin to partake of a moral quality, is when they require to be governed and directed. It was not wrong for the hungry man when he saw bread before him to desire it. But when he knew it to be the property of another, it would have been wrong to take it; and when he knew that the food would injure him, it became his duty to forbear. We cannot extinguish the animal feelings by an act of the will; they arise involuntarily, and therefore cannot be in themselves of a moral nature. Yet as man has other principles and powers by which he should be governed, he becomes faulty when he neglects to govern these lower propensities in accordance with the dictates of reason and conscience. But in regard to other desires and affections, they are good or bad in every degree in which they exist. For example, not only are malice and envy sinful when ripened into act, but the smallest conceivable exercise of such feelings is evil; and as they increase in strength, their moral evil increases. It does not require an act of volition, consenting to these feelings, to render them evil; their very essence is evil, and is condemned by the moral sense of mankind. cated of these hidden tempers of the mind, must be determined by an appeal to the common judgment of mankind; and this, we think, is manifestly in favour of the affirmative. When a man is observed to manifest wicked, malignant passions as often as occasion serves to elicit them, all men agree that he possesses a malignant temper. The soul of such å man, when his acts of iniquity are finished, cannot be free from every taint, until he again put forth a voluntary act. The doctrine of a uniform series of evil acts, is irreconcilable with the doctrine that all evil consists in self-determined acts, unless the will itself be corrupt, for why should all acts be of one kind, when no cause exists why they should be one thing rather than another? We might suppose such a power would act as frequently one way as another. But if there be any causes without the will, which give a uniform character to its acts, then the will cannot be free. It is determined by something without itself, which is incompatible with the hypothesis. Again: the fountain must partake of the quality of the streams. If these are uniformly evil, it is fair to conclude that the fountain is polluted. Voluntary wickedness is nothing else than bringing into act what before existed in principle in the soul. If malice in act is sinful, surely malice in principle must be evil. No man can bring himself to believe that the wretch who has perpetrated thousands of base crimes, and stands ready to commit others of the same kind, has no evil inherent in his soul, by which he is distinguished from the most innocent person. Another evidence that men do judge something to be sinful besides sinful acts, is, that men who palpably omit important duty, are considered equally guilty with those who offend by positive act. That man who neglects to rescue a human being from death, when it is easily in his power to do so, is by all men reckoned guilty of a great crime, though he performs no act of any kind. Suppose a helpless woman or infant to fall overboard from a boat, in which there is a strong man who might afford relief, but makes no attempt to do so. Is there a person in the world who would not view such a neglect as a great sin? Now, on what principle do we censure the person who has committed no act of transgression? Evidently on the ground that he ought to have felt a regard for the life of a fellow creature. We blame his indifference to the welfare of his neighbour. WHETHER MORALITY BELONGS TO PRINCIPLES AS WELL AS ACTS, OR IS CONFINED TO ACTS ALONE. It seems to be generally agreed, that in the human soul there exist certain principles from which actions proceed, as streams As to the maxim, that nothing is sinful which is not volunfrom a fountain; and that the character of the actions corre-tary, it relates to positive acts, not to dispositions of the mind. sponds with that of the principle. Those, however, who But as was explained before in regard to desires and affections, maintain that the will possesses a self-determining power, so in regard to dispositions, we say they are in a sense volunindependent of motives, deny the existence of any such principles lying at the root of the acts of the mind, especially in moral exercises. They hold that the evil of an act arises entirely from the exercise of free will, and that there is no propriety in referring it to any thing previously existing in the mind. They allege that nothing can be of a moral nature but that which is voluntary, and therefore that virtue or vice can be predicated of nothing but actions. They argue, however, that to make virtue and vice consist in the occult qualities of the soul, is to conceive of the essence of the soul as corrupt; and that this would be to make sin a physical quality, existing without any relation to the will. It would be entirely out of place, here, to consider the bearing of this controversy on certain theological points, concerning which polemics have waged an interminable war. We have, at present, nothing to do with any principles or questions but such as may be learnt from reason and experience. tary. They properly belong to the will, taking the word in a large sense. In judging of the morality of voluntary acts, the principle from which they proceed is always included in our view, and comes in for its full share of the blame. Thus Bishop Butler, in his excellent essay on the "Nature of Virtue," says, in speaking of the moral faculty, "It ought to be observed that the object of this faculty is actions, comprehending under that name active or practical principles." This sagacious man saw that it would not do to confine virtue to positive acts, but that principles must come in for their full share of approbation or disapprobation. The character which a man acquires by a series of acts, is not merely the estimation of a person who has performed such acts, but it is of a person possessing dispositions or principles which gave rise to such acts. Our notion of a bad man is of one who not only has perpetrated wicked acts, but is still disposed to do the same; and we disapprove the principle as much as the acts. The notion that corrupt principles must vitiate the essence of the soul, is without foundation. The soul is the subject of many affections which are not essential to it. Natural affections may be extirpated, and yet the soul remain unchanged. Moral qualities may be entirely changed, without any change in the essence of the soul. The faculties remain, while the moral principles which govern them may be changed from good to bad, or from bad to good. The same faculties which are employed in the performance of virtuous actions, may be occupied as instruments of wickedness. That inheherent moral qualities may exist in the soul, has been the belief all nations, and is the sentiment of every common man Whether moral good and evil may with propriety be predi-whose judgment has not been warped by false philosophy. In the first place, let it be observed, that we know nothing of the soul but by its acts. We have no consciousness of anything but acts of different kinds; yet we know as certainly that we have a soul, as that we think and feel. So, also, we are not conscious of the existence of what is called disposition, temper, principle; but we as intuitively believe in the existence of these, as in the existence of the soul itself. If we see one man doing evil whenever he has the temptation, and another as habitually doing good, we cannot help considering that the one is actuated by an evil disposition which dwells in him, and that the other is influenced by a good disposition. French. Avis English. Advertisement. From. Who can believe that the soul of a cruel murderer, whose S final, under other circumstances, is usually silent, viz. :heart cherishes habitual hatred and revenge towards his fellow creatures, is, when asleep, or occupied with indifferent matters, in the same state of purity or exemption from evil, as the soul of the most virtuous man in the world? It cannot be believed. We cannot help thinking, when we see a uniform course of action, whether it be good or bad, that there must be corresponding dispositions which lead to such actions. Every effect must have an adequate cause. Let it be granted, for the sake of argument, that the self-determining power is an adequate cause for any single act of any kind; yet it can be no sufficient cause for a series of acts of the same kind. This, however, must be left to the intuitive belief of every man. subject for the judgment of common sense, rather than reason. LESSONS IN FRENCH PRONUNCIATION. No. V. CONSONANTS. 60. Q q. Q, is pronounced like English K. 61. R r. Pronunciation. Divers De-vayr Various. Zhahk James. Zhu-da Judas. Lay Legacy. Oh Bone. Remorse. A sieve. Thomas. Democracy. Foily. Inactivity. Trifle. Patience. Primacy. Prophecy. Satiety. and TIER, has the common sound of English T. Refer to the In a few other words, the T in the last syllable of TIE, TIE' French dictionary for their pronunciation. Tfinal, is usually silent, and is seldom carried to the next word in pronunciation. 64. V v. In all situations, V has the sound of English V. 65. W w. W, is not properly a French letter. It is not found in the French Alphabet, though it is sometimes used in foreign words, names of persons, places and things. When thus used, it has the sound of our English V. The proper name NEWTON, however, is printed in French-NEUTON; and, with the exception of the last syllable, which has the Nasal sound, the pronunciation of the whole word does not differ from its English pronunciation. 66. X x. This letter, has different sounds in the French language. just as it has in the English. It has five different sounds, viz. :- 1. Like the English letter K in the following words, viz. :— 1 There are, however, a few ezceptions to the above Rule. S final, before another word commencing with a Vowel or H Mute, has the sound of English Z, and is connected with the following word in pronunciation, as if it were its first letter, viz. :— APRE'S AVOIR DINE'-as if printed-APRE ZAVOIR DINE'. PAS EXCUSABLE-as if printed--PA ZEXCUSABLE. VOUS ETONNE'S as if printed-VOU ZE TONNE'S ? 2. Like the English letters KS, in the following words, viz. : Luh!r Sometimes the U of this combination is under a Circumflex Accent, thus-EU-in which case the sound of the Compound Vowel is prolonged. The correct sound of this Compound Vowel is no more difficult to be acquired, than is the correct sound of E Mute or unaccented. But it often happens that the letter or combination of letters which immediately follows it, adds vastly to the difficulty of pronouncing it. Bring the lips nearly together ovally, in speaking this Compound Vowel. Practise patiently and thoroughly upon the above and other Examples, until you are satisfied you have mastered the difficulty. mood. If you conceive of time in the present, you have the condition (or action) of the verb as taking an actual shape, the present; as completed, the perfect; as coming on, the periphrastic future, formed by μew and the infinitive. If you conceive of time in the past, you have the condition of the verb as taking an actual shape, the imperfect; as completed, the pluperfect; as coming on, the periphrastic future, formed by Eueλov and the infinitive. If you conceive of time in the future, you have the condition of the verb as taking an actual shape, the ordinary future; as completed, the future perfect or third future; as coming on, the periphrastic future, formed by μeλnow and the infinitive. The present indicates that the action or condition of the verb is forming, or realising itself; it consequently denotes continuance, and gives the idea in a general and unlimited manner; thus Παντα τα αγαθα διδωσιν ὁ Θεὸς God gives all good things. In narrative the writer often transfers past events to present time, and relates them as if now actually proceeding. This is called the historic present (præsens historicum). The historic present gives a liveliness to the style, and is common with the Greek authors. When a past event may in itself or in its consequences be considered as coming down to the present, by the present is the event often spoken of by the Greeks. Thus we find in the present ακουω, πυνθανομαι, μανθάνω, γιγνώσκω, though this use is not limited to these verbs, e.g. Θεμιστοκλέα ουκ ακουεις ανδρα αγαθόν γεγονότα; Do you not hear (for have you not heard) that Th. was a good man? 'Hew, I have come; and oixoμai, I have left, are regularly used in a kind of perfect signification, while many other verbs, besides their ordinary meaning, have an import which can be best Englished by a perfect, as pɛvyw, I flee, I have been accused, I have been banished; view, I conquer, I am a conqueror, that is, I have conquered; aduw, I am in the wrong, I have failed. Future events also may be spoken of as present. while an additional degree of certainty is given to them. Especially are ερχομαι and πορευομαι thus used. Εἶμι is regularly employed with a future signification. The perfect presents the action or condition of the verb as completed in regard to the present; the pluperfect presents the action or condition of the verb as completed in regard to the past. The use of both tenses. however, undergoes in Greek a considerable limitation by means of the aorist. As the conclusion of an act has commonly a result, the perfect, which denotes the conclusion, may denote also the result. And, as the result, if a completed act comes down to or near the present, so the perfect may signify that which is, or that which lately was; e.g. Τῶν ποιητῶν τινες ὑποθηκας ὡς χρη ζῆν καταλελοίπασιν They have left them, and here they are; thus the perfect has the force of a present. Hence this form has been called a present-perfect," being past in act but present in consequence. In English this " present-perfect is represented by the compound have left, have written, etc., and by the use of have is distinguished from the simple past, as left, wrote. The two ideas, namely, the past indefinite (in Greek the aorist), and the present-perfect may be exemplified in these words"God made the world and has thereby left us a visible demonstration of his existence and glory." In Greek this use of the perfect is common. Accordingly the perfect signifies the result of the action of the present, and is sometimes best represented in English by another verb; thus kɛktŋμai, I possess, as expressive of the result of кraoμai, I acquire; oida, I know, the result of tow, I see; so μeuvnual, I remember; dedoira (or dedia), I fear; repoßnμai, I am afraid; Tεovŋкa, I am dead; yeyaunka, I am married; orŋka, I stand; πεpνка, I am; εγρηγορα, I watch; πεποιθα, I trust; τετιμημαι, I am held in honour; Kεkλnuaι, I am called. As the perfect in these verbs has the force of a present, so the pluperfect has the force of a simple past or an imperfect; thus EKEKλnuny, I was called, or I bore the name, goew, I knew. The imperfect represents the action or condition of the verb as forming itself in the past, and so describes a past event in its progress and continuance in time. For narrative in which past events are set forth without regard to their continuance, the imperfect was not used by the Greeks, who employed for that purpose the aorist. In cases in which the imperfect appears in narratives, it represents the action as one on which the mind dwells in contemplation. The imperfect may thus denote continuance, an habitual state, as well as repetition, in the past. Even permanent conditions which seem best expressed in the present, are sometimes expressed by the Greeks in the imperfect, especially if the context relates to past time. The imperfect may also be used when reference is made to a past conclusion. The aorist presents the action or condition of the verb as belonging to the past, in such a manner that its beginning and its end are at one point, and consequently the aorist simply sets forth an event as past without extension or limitation. On this account the aorist is specifically the narrative tense; the tense for reporting events as so many vanishing points in past time. The corresponding English tense is the simple preterit or the past, as he read, they gave. If during the narration, events are spoken of in their continuance, the imperfect is employed in Greek; and if events are introduced with their consequences in the present, then the perfect is used; e.g. Aorist Oi Έλληνες ενικήσαν τους Περσας Perfect |