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.