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.