CHAPTER I.
NATURE OF THE WILL.
What the Will is.—I understand, by the will, that power which the mind has of determining or deciding what it will do, and of putting forth volitions accordingly. The will is the power of doing this; willing, is the exercise of the power; volition, is the deed, the thing done. The will is but another name for the executive power of the mind. Whatever we do intelligently and intentionally, whether it implies an exercise of the intellect, or of the feelings, or of both, that is an act of the will. All our voluntary, in distinction from our involuntary movements of the body, and movements of mind, are the immediate results of the activity of the Will.
Condition of a Being destitute of Will.—We can, perhaps, conceive of a being endowed with intellect and sensibility, but without the faculty of will. Such a being, however superior he might be to the brutes in point of intelligence, would, so far as regards the capacities of action, be even their inferior, since his actions must be, as theirs, the result of mere sensational impulse, without even that unerring instinct to guide him, which the brute possesses, and which supplies the place of reason and intelligent will. To this wretched condition man virtually approximates when, by any means, the will becomes so far enfeebled, or brought under the dominion of appetite and passion, as to lose the actual control of the mental and physical powers. Will not distinct from the Mind.—It must be borne in mind, of course, as we proceed, that the will is nothing but the mind itself willing, or having power to will, and not something distinct from the mind, or even a part of the mind, as the handle and the blade are distinct parts of the knife. The power to think, the power to feel, the power to will, are distinct powers, but the mind is one and indivisible, exercising now one, now another, of these powers.
§ I.—Elements involved in an Act of Will.
Proposed Analysis.—In order to the better understanding of the nature of this faculty, let us first analyze its operations, with a view to ascertain the several distinct stages or elements of the mental process which takes place. We will then take up these several elements, one by one, for special investigation.
Observation of an Act of Will.—What, then, are the essential phenomena of an act of the will? Let us arrest ourselves in the process of putting forth an act of this kind, and observe precisely what it is that we do, and what are the essential data in the case. I am sitting at my table. I reach forth my hand to take a book. Here is an act of my will. My arm went not forth self-moved and spontaneously, it was sent, was bidden to go; the soul seated within, animating this physical organism, and making it subservient to her will, moved that arm. Here, then, is clearly an act of will. Let us subject it to the test of observation.
The first Element.—First of all, then, there was evidently, in this case, something to be done—an end to be accomplished—a book to be reached. The action, both of body and of mind, was directed to that end, and but for that the volition would not have been put forth. It is to be observed, moreover, that the end to be accomplished, in this case, was a possible one—the book was, or was supposed to be, within my reach. Otherwise I should not have attempted to reach it.
A second Element.—I observe, furthermore, in the case under consideration, a motive, impelling or inducing to that end; a reason why I willed the act. It was curiosity, perhaps, to see what the book was, or it may have been some other principle of my nature, which induced me to put forth the volition.
A further Step in the Process.—But the motive does not, itself, produce the act. It is merely the reason why I produce it. It has to do not directly with the action, but with me. Its immediate effect terminates on me, and it is only indirectly that it affects the final act. The next step in the process, then, is to be sought, not in the final act, but in my mind as influenced by motive; and that step is my choice. Previous to my putting forth the volition to move my arm, there was a choice or decision to do so. In view of the end to be accomplished, and influenced by the motive, I made up my mind—to use a common but not inapt expression—to perform the act. The question arose, for the instant, Shall I do it? The very occurrence of a thing to be done, a possible thing, and of a motive for doing it, raises, of itself, the question, Shall it be done? The question may be at once decided in the affirmative, in the absence of reasons to the contrary, or, in the absence of reflection, so quickly decided, that, afterward, we shall hardly be conscious that it was ever before the mind. Or it may be otherwise. Reasons to the contrary suggest themselves—counter influences and motives—in view of which we hesitate, deliberate, decide; and that decision, in view of all the circumstances, is our preference, or choice. In most cases the process is so rapid as to escape attention; but subsequent reflection can hardly fail to detect such a process, more or less distinctly marked.
The final Stage of the Act.—We have reached now the point at which it is decided, in our own minds, what course to pursue. In the case supposed, I have decided to take up the book. The volition is not yet put forth. Nothing now remains, however, but to put forth the volition, and at once the muscular organism, if unimpeded and in health, obeys the will. The thing is done, and the experiment concluded.
Summary of Results.—I repeat now the experiment ten or a hundred times, but always with like results. I find always, where there is an act of the will, some end to be obtained, some motive, a choice, an executive volition. I conclude that these are the essential phenomena of all voluntary action.
Of these, the two former, viz., the end to be accomplished, and the motive, may be regarded as more properly conditions of volition, than constituent elements of it. Still, so intimately is the volition connected with one, at least, of these conditions, viz., the motive, that it claims special consideration. The ends to be accomplished by volition are as numerous as the infinite variety of human purposes and actions, and, of course, admit of no complete enumeration or classification. We confine our further attention, then, to these elements—the motive, the choice, the executive volition—and proceed to their more careful investigation as phenomena of the will.
§ II.—Investigation of these Elements.
The first of these Elements, Motive, always implied in Action.—I. The Motive—that which incites the mind to action—the reason why it acts, and acts as it does. We never act without some such incitement, some reason for acting; at least this is true of all our intelligent and voluntary actions, of which, alone, we now speak. It may be nothing more than mere present impulse, mere animal appetite or passion, even that is a motive, a reason why we act. We cannot conceive of any being having the power of voluntary action, and exerting that power without any reason whatever why he did it. The reason may, or may not, be clearly apprehended by his own mind—that is another question; but whether distinctly and clearly recognized as such, or not, by our own minds, a reason there always is for what we do.
In what Sense this Term employed.—Strictly speaking, the motive is not any and every influence which may bear upon the mind as an inducement to action, but only the prevailing inducement, that which actually moves or induces us to perform the proposed act. In this sense, there may be many different inducements, but only one motive. Such, however, is not the ordinary use of the term. That is usually called a motive which is of a nature to influence the mind, and induce volition, whether it is, in the given case, effective, or not. To avoid confusion, I adopt the general use.
Nature of Motives.—As to the nature of the motives from which we act, they are manifestly of two kinds, and widely distinct. There is desire, and there is the sense of moral obligation or duty;—the agreeable, and the right; each of these constitutes a powerful motive to action. We find ourselves, under the influence of these motives, acting, now from desire, now from sense of duty, now in view of what is in itself agreeable, and now in view of what is right; and the various motives which influence us and result in action, may be resolved into one or the other of these powerful elements.
These Elements distinguished.—These are quite distinct elements, never to be confounded with, nor resolved into each other. Desire is the feeling which arises in view of some good not in present possession, something agreeable, and to be obtained; it looks forward to that; its root and spring is that grand principle of our nature, the love of happiness. Its appeal is to that. Its strength lies in that Duty, as we have already shown—that sense of obligation which is implied in the very idea of right—is quite another principle than that, not founded in that; springs not from self-love, or the desire of happiness; is, on the contrary, a simple, primitive, fundamental idea of the human mind, based in the inherent, essential, eternal nature of things. Given the right, the perception of right, and there is given, also along with it, the sense of obligation.
Their Action not always in Unison.—These two motives may act in different directions; they frequently do so. Desire impels me one way, duty another. Conflict then arises. Which shall prevail, desire or duty, depends on circumstances, on my character already formed, my habits of thought and feeling, my degree of self-control, my conscientiousness, the strength of my native propensities, the clearness with which, at the time, I apprehend the different courses of conduct proposed, their character and their consequences. Desire may prevail, and then I go counter to my sense of obligation. Remorse follows. I am wretched. I suffer penalty. Duty prevails, and I do that which I believe to be right, regardless of consequences. I suffer in property, health, life, external good, but am sustained by that approving voice within, which more than compensates for all such losses.
That there are these two springs or motives of human action, and that they are distinct from each other, is what I affirm, and what no one, I think, who reflects on what consciousness reveals, will be disposed to deny.
Motives of Duty not resolvable into Motives of Interest.—Should any still contend that this very approval of conscience, this peace and happiness which result from doing right, are, themselves, the motive to action, in the case supposed, and so, self-love, a desire of happiness, is, after all, the only motive, I reply, this is an assumption utterly without proof. Consciousness contradicts it. The history of the human race contradicts it. There is such a thing as doing right for its own sake, irrespective of good to ourselves. Every man is conscious of such distinction, and of its force as a motive of conduct. Every virtuous man is conscious of acting, at times, at least, from such a motive.
Coincidence of Desire and Duty.—It is only when desire and duty coincide, that the highest happiness can be reached, when we no longer desire and long for, because we no longer view as agreeable, that which is not strictly right. This is a state never fully realized in this life. It implies perfection of character, and a perfect world.
Desires, as Motives of Action, further distinguished.—Desire, and the feeling of obligation, I have spoken of as motives of conduct. The former, again, is not always of one sort. Desire is, indeed, in itself, a simple element, springing from one source, but not always directed to the same object. We desire now one thing, now another. There are two classes, at least, of desires quite easy to be distinguished, the physical and the psychical, the one relating to the wants of the body, the other to the craving of the higher nature; the mere animal instincts, propensities, passions, looking to animal gratification; and the higher rational self-love, which seeks the true and permanent well-being, under the guidance of reason. Each of these furnishes a powerful motive, or class of motives, to human action. They are each, however, but different forms of desire.
The second Element, Choice, always involved in Volition.—II. Choice.—This is an essential element in volition, and next in order. As, setting aside such acts as are purely spontaneous and mechanical, we never, intelligently and purposely, do any thing without a volition to do it, so we never put forth volition without exercising choice. The act performed is not a voluntary act, unless it is something which I choose to do. True, my choice may be influenced by extraneous causes—may even be constrained—circumstances may virtually compel me to choose as I do, by shutting me up to this one course, as being either the only right, or the only desirable course. And these circumstances, that thus influence my decisions, may be essentially beyond my control, as they not unfrequently are. Yet, all things considered, it is my choice to do thus and not otherwise, and so long as I do choose, and am free to act accordingly, the act is voluntary.
The Position illustrated.—This may be illustrated by the case of the soldier who, in the bombardment of his native city, is ordered to point his piece in the direction of his own dwelling. To disobey, is death. To obey, is to put in jeopardy those who are dear to him. He hesitates, but finally chooses to obey orders. He aims his piece as directed, sadly against his inclination; yet, on the whole, it is his choice to do it. He prefers that to the certainty of dishonorable death, a death which would in no way benefit or protect those whom he wishes to save. A man, of his own accord, lies down upon the surgeon's operating table, and stretches out his arm to the knife. It is his choice—a hard choice, indeed, but, nevertheless, decidedly his choice. He prefers that to still greater suffering, or even death. In these cases—and they are only instances and illustrations of what, in a less marked and decided way, is continually occurring—we see the utmost strain and pressure of circumstances upon a man's choice, making it morally certain that he will decide as he does, shutting him up to that decision, in fact, yet his choice remaining unimpaired, and his act a free act; free, because he does as he, on the whole, and under the circumstances, chooses to do. He does the thing voluntarily.
Another Case supposed.—Suppose, now, the man were forcibly seized, and borne by sheer strength to the table, and placed upon it, and held there while the operation was performed. In that case, he no longer acts, is only acted upon, no longer chooses and wills to go there, nay, chooses and wills directly the contrary. The difference in the two cases, is the difference between a voluntary act, chosen reluctantly, indeed, and under the pressure of an exigency, but still chosen, and the passive suffering of an action which, so far from being voluntary, was, in no sense, an act of his own.
Choice always influenced by Circumstances.—Now, as regards the actual operation of things, our choices are, in fact, always influenced by circumstances, and these circumstances are various and innumerable; a thousand seen and unseen influences are at work upon us, to affect our decisions Were it possible to estimate aright all these influences, to calculate, with precision, their exact weight and effect, then our choice, under any given circumstances, might be predicted with unerring certainty. This can never be exactly known to man. Sagacity may approximate to it, and may, so far, be able to read the future, and predict the probable conduct of men in given circumstances. To the omniscient, these things are fully known, and to his eye, therefore, the whole future of our lives, our free choices and voluntary acts, lie open before they are yet known to ourselves.
Conclusion stated.—From what has been said, it appears that it is not inconsistent with the nature of choice, to be influenced, nay, decided by circumstances, even when circumstances are beyond our control.
Diversity of Objects essential to Choice.—What is implied in an act of choice? Several things. In order to choice, there must, of course, be diversity of objects from which to choose. If there were but one possible course to be pursued, it were absurd to speak of choice. Hence, even in the cases just now supposed, there was a diversity of objects from which to choose—death, or obedience to orders, suffering from the surgery, or greater suffering and danger without it, and between these the man made his choice.
Liberty of Selection also essential.—As a further condition of choice, there is implied liberty of selection from among the different objects proposed. It were of no use that there should be different courses of conduct—different ends, or different means of attaining an end—proposed to our understanding, if it were not in our power to select which we pleased, if we were not free to go which way we will. Choice always implies that different actions and volitions are possible, and are, as such, submitted to our decision and preference. There can be no volition without choice, and no choice without liberty to choose. Whatever interferes, then, with that liberty, and diminishes or takes it away, interferes, also, with my choice, and diminishes or destroys that. The very essence of a voluntary act consists in its being an act of choice, or a free-will act. No tyranny can take this away, except such as destroys, also, all voluntary and responsible action. You may command me to burn incense on a heathen altar. The very command leaves it optional with me whether to obey. If I do not, the penalty is death. Very well—I may choose the penalty, rather than the crime, and no power on earth can compel me to choose otherwise. I die, but I die a free man. True, you may bind me, and by mechanical force urge me to the altar, and by superior strength of other arms, may cause my hand to put incense there, but it is not my act then; it is the act of those who use me as a mere passive instrument; it is no more my act, than it would be the act of so much iron, or wood, or other instrument.
Deliberation implied.—Choice, moreover, implies deliberation, the balancing and weighing of inducements, the comparison and estimate of the several goods proposed, the several ends and objects, the various means to those ends; the exercise of reason and; judgment in this process. I see before me different courses, different ends proposed to my understanding, am conscious of diverse inducements and reasons, some urging me in one direction, some in another. Native propensities impel me toward this line of conduct. Rational self-love puts in a claim for quite another procedure. Benevolence, and a sense of duty, it may be, conspire to urge me in still another direction. I am at liberty to choose I must choose. I can go this way or that, must go in one or the other. I hesitate, deliberate, am at a loss.
Now there is no choice which does not virtually involve some process of this kind. It may be very rapid; so rapid as to escape detection, in many cases, so that we are hardly conscious of the process. In other cases, we are painfully conscious of the whole scene; we hesitate long, are in doubt and suspense between conflicting motives and interests. Desire and duty wage a fierce contest within us. Shall we choose the agreeable? Shall we choose the right? And then, again, which is really the agreeable, and which is truly the right?
Final Decision.—As the result of this deliberation, we finally decide, one way, or the other. This decision is our preference, our choice. Our minds, as we say, are made up what to do, what course to pursue. When the time comes, we shall act. Something may prevent our having our way; opportunity may not offer, or we may see fit, subsequently to reconsider and revoke our decision. Otherwise, our choice is carried out in action.
Choice implies, then, these things: diversity of objects, liberty of selection, deliberation, decision, or preference.
The final Element.—III. Executive Volition.—In our investigation of the several elements or momenta of an act of the Will, we have as yet considered but two, viz., motive and choice—the first, more properly a condition of voluntary action, than itself a constituent part of it, yet still, a condition so indispensably connected with volition, as to require investigation in connection with the latter. It only remains now to notice the last stage of the process, the final element, which added, the process is complete—that is, the executive act of the mind, volition properly so called. When the objects to be attained have been presented, when the motives or inducements to action have been considered, when, in view of all, the choice or preference has been made, it still remains to put forth the volition, or the act will not be performed. This may never happen. Opportunity may never offer. But suppose it does. We will. This done, the bodily mechanism springs into play, obedient to the call and command of the soul.
Even now, the action does not of necessity correspond to the volition. Even now, we may be disappointed. Other wills may be in action in opposition to ours. Other arms may move in obedience to those other wills. Or we may find the thing too much for us to do, impracticable, beyond our strength and means, or disease may palsy the frame, so that it shall not obey the mandate of the spirit. Nevertheless the volition is complete. That depends not on the success of the exertion. We have willed, and with that our mental action ceases. What remains is physical, not psychological. If we succeed, if the volition finds itself answered in execution, then, also, the act once performed is thenceforth out of our power. It is done, and stands a permanent historic event, beyond our control, beyond our decision or revocation. Our power over it ceases in the moment of volition. Our connection with it may never cease. It moves on in its inevitable career of consequences, and, like a swift river, bears us along with it. We have no more to do with it, but it has to do with us; it may be to our sorrow, it may be, forever.
Such are, in brief, the main psychological facts, relating to the will, as they offer themselves to our consciousness and careful inspection.