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seventh chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, an inspired Apostle giving, as 
the result of his experience, that that which he would he could not. He willed 
to do a thing, but he had not the power ; it was not a physical impossibility, 
but a moral impossibility. He willed to do a certain thing, but the law of 
his nature stepped in and said, “ You shall not.” That law was the master, 
and he was the slave — his will was not free ; it was fettered and bound. I 
stand upon that as a fact which we are bound to look clearly in the face in 
forming any theory as to what the will is. Now, how is this limitation of the 
freedom of will to be explained ? In order to explain that, it is necessary to 
analyze to some extent in what our will consists, and, to prevent misunder- 
standing, I will exclude all actions which are involuntary, or which are the 
result of physical compulsion, and, for the present, the influence of conscience 
also. What is there of will in my nature independent of the consciousness 
of a sense of right and wrong ? What is it, apart from conscience, that leads 
me to resolve upon any action ? I answer that it is my desire for something 
which shall be attained by that action. I see a book on that table, and I wish 
to open it. The only thing which impels me to open it is my desire to have 
it open. I can distinguish in my mind between the desire to open the book 
and the act of opening it, but between my desire and my will I can see no 
difference at all : — the one is the immediate outward manifestation of the 
other. But there may be something else in my mind which leads me not to 
open the book after all. The book belongs to somebody else, and it is a 
question whether I ought to open it ; whether it would be advisable as a 
matter of ordinary prudence that I should touch it. Another desire has now 
come into the field. I desire to keep on good terms, perhaps, with the 
owner, and I should not like him to be displeased with me for opening it ; 
and so, impelled by that desire, I leave it alone. But you may say I have 
here made choice between two desires. Nothing of the kind. I have simply 
two antagonistic desires, of which one is stronger than the other, and the 
stronger necessarily gets the best of it. The two desires struggle one against 
the other, and the stronger wins the day 
Rev. Dr. Irons. — Do you mean to say that there are two distinct entities 
struggling against each other in your mind ? 
Mr. Warington. — Certainly not. There are two desires, belonging to 
different parts of me, but not two entities. So far as my consciousness goes 
I know of nothing between them, but the two desires are there struggling 
against each other, and I know of no third faculty holding the balance between 
the two, and making up its mind judicially as to which course it will adopt. 
Mr. Row, however, does know of the existence of a third faculty which here 
steps in. Now, you may complicate the matter as much as you like — you 
may bring into play a hundred different desires, if you please, instead of only 
two or three ; still I maintain that whichever happens to be the strongest 
among them is that which is in fact the will. These desires are of very various 
kinds, and affect various parts of my nature 
Rev. Dr. Irons. — I must say I do not understand you. You say thess 
desires are struggling together, and affecting various parts of your nature. 
Are they your own desires ? 
