ion. Though, as disciples of Butler, we are deeply
impressed with these truths, yet, as disciples of Bacon, we do not intend
to despair until we can discover some good and sufficient reason for so
doing. It seems to us, that the reply of Leibnitz to Descartes, already
alluded to, is not without reason. "It might have been an evidence of
humility in Descartes," says he, "if he had confessed his own inability to
solve the difficulty in question; but not satisfied with confessing for
himself, he does so for all intelligences and for all times."

But, after all, Descartes has really endeavoured to solve the problem
which he declared insoluble; that is, to reconcile the infinite
perfections of God with the free-agency of man. He struggles to break
loose from this dark mystery; but, like the charmed bird, he struggles and
flutters in vain, and finally yields to its magical influence. In his
solution, this great luminary of science, like others before him, seems to
suffer a sad eclipse. "Before God sent us into the world," says he, "he
knew exactly what all the inclinations of our wills would be; _it is he
that has implanted them in us_; it is he also that has disposed all
things, so that such or such objects should present themselves to us at
such or such times, by means of which he has known that our free-will
would determine us to such or such actions, _he has willed that it should
be so; but he has not willed to constrain us thereto_." This is found in a
letter to the Princess Elizabeth, for whose benefit he endeavoured to
reconcile the liberty of man with the perfections of God. It brings us
back to the old distinction between necessity and co-action. God brings
our volitions to pass; he wills them; they "spring entirely from him;" but
we are nevertheless free, because he constrains not our external actions,
or compels us to do anything contrary to our wills! We cannot suppose,
however, that this solution of the problem made a very clear or deep
impression on the mind of Descartes himself, or he would not, on other
occasions, have pronounced every attempt at the solution of it vain and
hopeless.

In his attempt to reconcile the free-agency of man with the divine
perfections, Descartes deceives himself by a false analogy. Thus he
supposes that a monarch "_who has forbidden_ duelling, and who, certainly
knowing that two gentlemen will fight, if they should meet, _employs
infallible means to bring them together_. They meet,