We consider them as in some measure one; because, however complex they may truly be, they exhibit to us one great general character."* And we may add, "And that we are capable of giving a unity to mental and moral objects of whatever kind, as well as to physical, if there be any possible relation of time, or place, or resemblance, or effect, or cause, which the mind can detect and employ as a ligament for this purpose. We repeat, that this capability of combining, by a mere mental act, many into one, of converting multiplicity into unity, is not less true of mental and moral objects and facts than of physical; and in many cases both are included.

A man, for instance, contemplates going a journey; he examines all the circumstances which may have a bearing on his proposed expedition; and combines, by the various operations of the intellect, the whole into one view. This complex object is addressed, not in its parts, but as a whole, to the sensibilities. It excites the various forms of desire, and the feelings of obligation; and these are followed by volition. In all cases of this kind the mind is capable of acting, and, in point of fact, it generally does act, in reference to the whole object. The volition may be in accordance with the desire or not; it may be in accordance with the moral feelings, and wholly at variance with the desires; but in both alike the desires and volitions are distinct. And these views hold good not only in the case just now remarked upon, of the man who dashes from him the intoxicating bowl, but of the judge who is called, in the discharge of his duties, to pass sentence of death on an accused person. He undoubtedly takes into view the action in its whole extent, in all its results. As it exists in the view of his intellect, it is one action, though made up of various subordinate parts; and the question, placed distinctly before him and subject to his own dispensation, is one of life and death. And we may assert with confidence, the true state of his mind in ordinary * Relation of Cause and Effect, part i., § 3; pt. ii., § 3.

cases is, that he desires the accused person to live, but wills him to die; and that the desire and volition are not only distinct from each other, but are opposed to each other; a doctrine which is sometimes perplexed by the analytic incisions of a one-sided logic, but which is more than vindicated and sustained by the imperative voice, coming up in another direction, of the great synthesis of humanity. The fact is, there are two conflicting principles within him; the desires on the one hand, having their place and their influence; and the feelings of moral obligation on the other, having also their place and their influence. These both are in immediate contact with the will; that is to say, have a direct motive influence upon it. In acting in conformity with the moral motive, he acts against the desire; and an act which is against desire, whether that action be mental or bodily, cannot with any propriety of terms be said to be identical with it.

§ 41. If the distinction in question do not exist, the foundation of morals becomes unsettled.

There is another and important point of view in which this subject may be considered. It is presumed that the reader will be disposed to admit the existence and the great practical utility of that department of our nature which we variously denominate either the moral sense or the conscience. But if conscience is of any value, it is because the feelings of obligation resulting from it furnish a motive to volition, and become, at times, its antecedent and necessary, or, rather, its pre-requisite condition; and because the motive thus furnished is different from that presented by the appetites, propensities, and passions. But if volition is always and invariably identical with some form of desire, then it is obvious that conscience is excluded, and that nothing can be more unmeaning, and useless, and delusory than the apparatus of moral emotions and of feelings of obligation, which so evidently exists. They furnish, on that supposition, a mere show of authority, without any actual good results. So

that we have great reason to assert, that the doctrine, which makes volition always and necessarily identical with the highest desire, tends to annihilate our moral nature. If we are not erroneous in our construction of it, it places man, in a moral point of view, on the same footing with brute animals.

We never condemn a brute that yields to its desires as guilty of a crime. And why not? Because it has no conscience, no moral sense; and, of course, there is no basis of its actions except in its desires; and therefore, in acting in accordance with its desires, it acts in conformity with its nature, and fulfils the destiny allotted it. But certainly it is not so with man, however it may be with the lower animals. Man has within him not only desires, but feelings of moral obligation; he appreciates not only what is good, but what is right; and if ever, in any assignable case, he wills and acts in accordance with his moral feelings, and in opposition to his desires, then his volitions and desires are not the same.

§ 42. Instances in illustration of the distinction in question. We think we might bring many instances of a practical kind to illustrate the distinction under consideration, and which not only illustrate, but tend to prove its existence. The parental relation will furnish to those, at least, who have experienced the strength of affection incident to it, an illustration of the matter before us. The tenderly beloved child commits some fault or crime, under such circumstances as to render him inexcusable, and the father punishes him. Every father knows that the infliction of punishment in such cases is attended with a war in his own bosom; the strong feeling of obligation, which an enlightened conscience has laid the foundation of, drawing him one way, and the yearnings of parental affection enticing him another; and it does not appear that anything can still this commotion, and secure the supremacy of his moral nature, but the energetic and authoritative effort of the will.

Let us apply these views to the case of the patriarch Abraham, when he was called, in the administration of the Divine Providence, to offer up his son Isaac amid the forests of Mount Moriah. Will any one presume to say that, when the aged father stood with his knife extended over the bared bosom of his only son, there was no contest within him, no earnest and almost overpowering longing for his rescue? Did not his affection kindle with tenfold ardour when his beloved boy asked him, with the simplicity of untaught and confiding childhood, Where is the lamb for the burnt offering? While desire for the child's safety existed at the highest point of intensity, existing as strongly as human nature was capable of enduring, there were other high and sacred principles, which laid the foundation of volitional action in opposition to his desires, and which in their result secured the imperative and mighty ascendency of the will.

§ 43. Illustration from Roman history.

Such instances abound in all periods of history, profane as well as sacred, and particularly in Roman history. The reader of Roman history will recollect, that when the sons of Lucius Junius Brutus conspired against the Roman republic, and the conspiracy was discovered, they were condemned to die. It became the duty of the father, who was at that time at the head of the Commonwealth, to see the punishment enforced. Can any one doubt that there was a strife, a contest, in the soul of the patriotic Roman? The historian informs us that this struggle was visible in his countenance (eminente animo patrio inter publicæ pœnæ ministerium) as he stood at the dreadful scene of the execution. But if desire and volition are the same thing, where was the foundation for such inward contest? If the desire was coincident with the volition; if the latter was lost and absorbed in the former; and if his conscience approved of the transaction as it did, then there must necessarily have been a calm within and without; there could not pos

sibly have been an agitation, dissidence, and rending asunder of the interior nature.

§ 44. Proofs from some facts in the mental constitution.

At this point in the argument we proceed to remark, that there is one interesting psychological or mental fact, which has probably never been brought into the discussion, but which seems to me decisive of the point at issue. We refer to the fact that, whenever the object of a morally obligative feeling on the one hand, or of a desire on the other, is secured, there is always, by the very constitution of our nature, an attendant emotion of pleasure; in other words, an internal realization of happiness. When, in any given case, one of these impulsive mental elements, viz., desires and obligative sentiments, is gratified, and the other is not gratified, it is true, that the accompanying sense of pain on the disappointed part may counterbalance, and more than counterbalance, the attendant pleasure on the other. So much so, that we may not always have a distinct perception of the pleasure. Nevertheless, the great psychological fact, which is involved in the very constitution of our nature, will be found, on examination, to remain sure.

Now let us apply this view to some of the cases which have been introduced; to the judge who has sentenced a prisoner to death; to Abraham when he was about. to offer up Isaac; to Brutus when he presided at the execution of his children. We are to notice, in the first place, that the moral sentiment or conscience approved what they did. So far all was right; and they undoubtedly had the satisfaction which always and necessarily attends the doing of a conscientious action. Now, if you make desire and volition the same thing, it will follow that they not only did what they felt they ought to do, but that they did also what they desired to do. The desirive feeling, as well as the moral or obligative feeling, was gratified.

Consequently, you must add to the degree of happiness already existing that additional degree of hap