is
infinite. Now there is no merit in paying a debt which we owe; and hence
the fullest discharge of our duty deserves no reward. On the other hand,
there is demerit in refusing to pay a debt; and therefore any
short-coming deserves an infinite penalty (vi. 155). Without examining
whether our duty is proportional to the perfection of its object, and is
irrespective of our capacities, there is one vital objection to this
doctrine, which Edwards had adopted from less coherent reasoners. His
theory, as I have said, so far from destroying virtue, gives it the
fullest possible meaning. There can be no more profound distinction than
between the affections which harmonise with the Divine will and those
which are discordant, though it might puzzle a more consistent Pantheist
to account for the existence of the latter. That, however, is a primary
doctrine with Edwards. But if virtue remains, it is certain that his
theory seems to be destructive both of merit and demerit as between man
and God. If we are but clay in the hands of the potter, there is no
intelligible meaning in our deserving from him either good or evil. We
are as He has made us. Edwards explains, indeed, that the sense of
desert implies a certain natural congruity between evil-doing and
punishment (ii. 430). But the question recurs, how in such a case the
congruity arises? It is one of the illusions which should disappear when
we rise to the sphere of the absolute and infinite. The metaphor about a
debt and its payment, though common in vulgar Calvinism, is quite below
Edwards' usual level of thought. And, if we try to restate the argument
in a more congenial form, its force disappears. The love of God, even
though imperfect, should surely imply some conformity to His nature; and
even an imperfect love should hardly be confounded, one might fancy,
with an absolute enmity to the Creator. Though the argument, which is
several times repeated, appears to have satisfied Edwards, it would have
been more in harmony with his principles to declare that, as between man
and his God, there could be no question of justice. The absolute
sovereignty of the Creator is the only, and to him it should be the
conclusive, answer to such complaints. But, whatever may be the fate of
this apology, the one irremovable difficulty remains behind. If God be
the one universal cause of all things, is He not the cause of evil as
well as good? Do you not make God, in short, the author of sin?