How then does man become "I?" how does he become percipient of an external universe? We answer not through sensation, but by and through an act of discrimination, or virtual negation. This negation is not and need not be expressed in words. It is a sile t, but deep deed, making each man an individual person; and it is enough, if the reality of it be present, even although the expression and distinct conception of it should be absent. But if the reality were actually absent, then there would be a difference indeed. If "no," in thought, and in deed, were taken out of the world, man would never become "I," and for him, the external universe would remain a nonentity. Sensation, passion, &c., would continue as strong and violent as ever, but consciousness would depart; man and nature, “I,” and not "I," subject and object lapsing into one, and every thing merging in a great unity, would be as though they were not. Indeed, the consequences of the disappearance of this small and apparently insignificant element are altogether incalculable. An illustrative view will help to render our meaning more distinct, and our statement more convincing. Let us suppose man to be visited by particular sensations of sight, of smell, of touch; and let us suppose these induced by the presence of a rose. Now, it is evident that in this process, the rose contributes nothing except the particular sensations mentioned. It does not contribute the element of negation. Yet without the element of negation, the rose could never be an object to the man, and unless it were an object to him, he of course would never perceive it; neither without this element could the man ever become "I." For let us suppose this element to be absolutely withdrawnto have no place in the process, then "I" and the rose, the subject and object, being undiscriminated, a virtual identification of them would prevail. But an identification of the subject and object of the Being knowing and the Being known, would render perception, consciousness, knowledge, inconceivable; for these depend upon a setting asunder of subject and object, of "I" and "not I." But a setting asunder of subject and object, depends upon a discrimination laid down between them. But a discrimi nation laid down between them implies the presence of the element of negation, that is to say, knowledge, consciousness, perception, depend upon the restoration of the element we supposed withdrawn, and are inconceiv able and impossible without it. It is therefore evident, that if man in sensation were virtually identified with the object, were the same as it, he would never perceive it, it would never be an object to him, and just as little would he be "I." But the only way in which this virtual identification is to be avoided, is by and through an implied discrimination. Then only do the "I" and "not I" emerge, and become the "I" and the "not I." But an implied discrimination involves an act of negation, either implicitly or explicitly. Therefore, an act of negation, actual or virtual, is the fundamental act of humanity-is the condition upon which consciousness and knowledge depend-is the act which makes the universe an object to usis the ground, and the placer of the "I" and the "not I." Do metaphysicians still desire information with respect to the "nature of the connection," the "mode of communcation" which subsists between matter and what they term “mind?” or do they continue to regard this question as altogether insoluble ! About "mind" we profess to know nothing. But if they will discard this hypothetical substance, and consent to put up with the simple word and reality " I," instead of it, we think we can throw some light on what takes place between matter and “me,” and that the foregoing observations have already done so. The point at which all preceding philosophers have confessed the hiatus to be insurmountable, the hitch to be inscrutably perplexing, was not the point at which the impression was communicated to the organ of sense-was not the point where the organ communicated the impression to the nerves-was not the point where the nerves transmitted it to the brain,-but was the point where the brain, or ultimate corporeal tissue, conveyed it to the "mind.” Here lay the gap which no philosophy ever yet intelligibly cleared; here brooded the mist which no breath of science ever yet succceded in dispersing. But, repudiating the hypothesis of "mind," let us use the word, and attend to the reality" I," and we shall see how the vapours will vanish, how the prospect will brighten, and how the hiatus will be spanned by the bridge of a comprehensible fact. In the first place, in order to render this fact the more palpable, let us suppose what is not the case, that the "I" is immediately given comes into the world ready made; and that a sensation, after being duly impressed upon its appropriate organ of sense, and carried along the nerves into the brain, is thence conveyed into this "I." But we have just seen that along with this transmission of sensation, there is no negation conveyed to this" I." There is nothing transmitted to it except the sensation. But we have also just seen that withont a negation virtually present at least, there could be no "I" in the case. This supposed "I" therefore could not be a true and real "I" Its ground is yet wanting. In point of fact it may be considered to lapse into "mind," aud to be as worthless and unphilosophical as that spurious substance which we have been labouring to get rid of. Throwing this "I" therefore aside, let us turn back, and supposing what is the case, that the "I" is not immediately given, let us follow forth the progress of a sensation once more. A particular impression is made upon an organ of sense in man, and what is the result? Sensation. Carry it on into the nerves, into the brain, what is the result? Mere sensation. Is there no consciousness? As yet there is none. But have we traced the sensation through its whole course? No: if we follow it onwards we find that somewhere or other it encounters an act of negation -a "no" gets implicated in the process, and then, and then only, does consciousness arise-then only does man start into being as "I"-then only do subject and object stand asunder. We have already proved, we trust with sufficient dintinctness, that this act must be present either actually or virtually, before man can be "I" and before the external universe can be an object to him-that is, before he can perceive it-and therefore we need not say any thing more upon this point. But does "the philosopher of mind," now ask us to redeem our pledge, VOL. XLVI. and to inform him distinctly what it is that takes place between "matter" and "me," matter presenting itself, as it always does, in the shape of a sensation? then we beg to inform him that all that takes place between them is an act of negation, in virtue of which they are what they are; and that this act constitutes that link, or rather unlink between body and mind-if we must call the "I" by that name-which many philosophers have sought for, and which many more have declined the search of out of despair of ever finding it. We must here guard our readers against a delusive view of this subject which may be easily taken up. It may still perhaps be conceived that "mind," or the "I," is immediately given-is sent into the world, as we have said, ready-made-and that it puts forth this act of negation out of the resources of its natural being. Such a doctrine borrows its support, as we have already hinted, from what are called "the laws of human thoughts," but is utterly discountenanced by facts; that is to say, by the sources themselves from whence these laws are professedly, although as it appears, incorrectly deduced. This doctrine directly reverses the truth of facts and the real order of things. It furnishes us with a notable instance of that species of misconception and logical transposition technically called a husteron-proleron;* in vulgar language, it places the cart before the horse. For, as we have all along seen, the being "I" arises out this act of negation, and therefore this act of negation cannot arise out of the being "I." All the evidence we can collect on the subject-every ray of light that falls upon it, proves and reveals it to be a fact, that the act of negation precedes the being "I," is the very condition or constituted ground upon which it rests, and therefore the being "I" cannot possibly precede or be given anterior to this act of negation. We may say if we please, that this act of negation is the act "I" but not that it arises out of the being "I," because the whole testimony of facts discountenances such a conclusion, and goes to establish the very reverse. The perfect truth is, that man acts I ύστερον προτερον—a last-frs!. 47 before he is I, that is to say, he acts before he truly is-his act precedes and realizes his being a direct reversal of the ordinary doctrine, but a most important one as far as the establishment of human liberty is concerned; because in making man's existence to depend upon his act, and in showing his act to be absolutely original and underived-an act of antagonism against the derivative modifications of his given nature, we encircle him with an atmosphere of liberty, and invest him with a moral character and the dread attribute of responsibility, which of course would disappear, if man at every step moved in the pre-ordained foot-prints of fate, and were not, is some respect or other unconditionally free. And move in these foot-prints he must, the bondsman of necessity in all things, if it be true that his real and proper substantive existence precedes and gives rise to his acts. If this act of negation never took place, the sphere of sensation would be enlarged. The sensation would reign absorbing, undisputed, and supreme; or in other words, man would in every case be monopolized by the passive state into which he had been cast. The whole of his being would be usurped by the passive modification into which circumstances had moulded it. But the act of negation or consciousness puts an end to this monoply. Its presence displaces the sensation to a certain extent, however small that extent may be. An antagonism is now commenced against passion, for all sensation is passion, and who can say where this antagonism is to stop. We shall show in its proper place, that all morality centres in this antagonism. The great unity of sensation, that is, the state which prevailed anterior to the dualization of subject and object, is broken up, and man's sensations and other passive states of existence never again possess the entireness of their first unalloyed condition-that entireness which they possessed in his infantine years-that wholeness and singleness which were theirs before the act of negation broke the universe asunder into the world of man and the world of nature. This, then proves that consciousness, or the act of negation, is not the harmonious accompaniment and dependent, but is the antagonist and the violator of sensation. Let us endea vour once more to show that this act, from its very character, must be unde. rived and free. The proof is as fol lows. Sensation is a given or derivative state. It has therefore from the first a particular positive character. But this act is nothing in itself; it has no positive character; it is merely the op. posite-the entire opposite of sensation. But if it were given and derived as well as sensation, it would not be the entire opposite of sensation. It would agree with sensation in this, that both of them would be given. But it agrees with the sensation in nothing. It is thoroughly opposed to it. It is pure action, while the sensation is pure pas sion. The sensation is passive, and is opposed to consciousness because it is derivative. Consciousness is action, and is opposed to sensation because it is not derivative. If consciousness were a given state it would not be action at all; it would be nothing but passion. It would be merely one passion contending with another passion. But it is impossible to conceive any passion or given state of Being without some positive character besides its antagonist character. But this act of negation has no positive character-has no character at all except of this antagonist description. Besides, it is opposed to every passion. If consciousness co-exist with any passion, we have seen that it displaces it to a certain degree. Therefore, if consciousness were itself a passive or derivative state it would be suicidal, it would prevent itself from coming into manifestation. But passing by this reductio ad absurdum, we maintain that consciousness meets the given, the derivate in man, at every point that it only manifests itself by doing so-and therefore, we must conclude that it is not itself derivative, but is an absolutely original act, or in other words, an act of perfect freedom. Let us here note in a very few words the conclusions we have got to. At our first step we noticed the given, the natural, the unconscious man-a passive creature throughout all the modifications of his Being. At our second step we observed an act of antagonism or freedom taking place against sensation, and the other passive conditions of his nature, as we have yet more fully to see: and at our third step we found that man in virtue of this antagonism had become "I." These three great moments of humanity may man-the man working into freedom against passion-is man in action. 3. The "I" is man in free, that is, in be thus expressed. 1. The natural CHAPTER IV. Are we then to hold that man does not become "I" by compulsion-that he is not constrained to become "I We must hold this doctrine. No man is forced or necessitated to become "I" All the necessitated part of his Being leans the other way, and tends to prevent him from becoming "I." He becomes "I" by fighting against the necessitated part of his nature. "I" embraces and expresses the sum and substance of his freedom-of his resistance. He becomes "I" with his own consent-through the concurrence and operation of his own will. We have as yet said little about Human Will, because Will" is but a word; and we have all along been anxious to avoid that very common, though most fatal error in philosophy -the error, of supposing that words can ever do the business of thoughts, or can of themselves put us in possession of the realities which they denote. If in philosophy we commence with the word “Will," or with any other word denoting what is called "a faculty" of man, and keep harping on the same, without having first of all come round the reality without the assistance of the word,-if we seek to educe the reality out of the word,-the chances are a thousand to one that we shall end where we began, and never get beyond the region of mere words. It makes a mighty difference in all kinds of composition, whether the reality suggests the word, or whether the word suggests the reality. The former kind of sugges tion alone possesses any value-it alone gives truth and life both to philosophy and to poetry. The latter kind is worthless altogether, either in philosopher or poet; and the probability is, that the reality which the word suggests to him is not the true reality at all.* Without employing the word "will," then let us look forth into the realities of man, and perhaps we shall fall in with the reality of it when we are *Some curious considerations present themselves in connection with thissubject. Human compositions may be divided into two great classes. In the first, the commencement is made from feelings, ideas or realities. These beget and clothe themselves in words. These precede the words. The workers in this order are in poetry the true poets. But the words having been employed and established, it is found that these of themselves give birth to feelings and ideas which may be extracted out of them without recourse being had to any other source. Hence a second class of composers arises, in whom words precede ideas-a class who, instead of construing ideas into words, construe words into ideas-and these again into other words. This class commences with words, making these feel and think for them. Of this class are the poetasters, the authors of odes to "Imagination," "Hope," &c., which are merely written because such words as "hope," "imagination," &c., have been established. These are the employers of the hereditary language of poetry. In philosophy the case is precisely the same. An Aristotle, a Liebnitz, or a Kant, having come by certain realities of humanity through an original exertion, and not through the instrumentality of words, makes use of a certain kind of phraseology to denote these realities. An inferior generation of philos phers, finding this phraseology made to their hand, adopt it; and without looking for the realities themselves independently of the words, they endeavour to lay hold of the realities solely through the words; they seek to extract the realities out of the words, and consequently, their labours are in different subject-matter, as dead and worthless as those of the poetaster. Both classes of imitators work in an inverted order. They seek the living among the dead; that is, they seek it where it never can be found. Let us ask whether one inevitable result-one disadvantage of the possession of a highly cultivated language is not this:- that being fraught with numberless associations, it enables poetasters and false philosophers to abound-inasmuch as it enables them to make words stand in place of things and do the business of thoughts? never thinking of the word, or troubling ourselves about it; perhaps we shall encounter the phenomenon itself, when the expression of it is the last thing in our thoughts; perhaps we shall find it to be something very different from what we suspected; perhaps we shall find that it exists in deeper regions, presides over a wider sphere, and comes into earlier play than we had any notion of. The law of causality is the great law of nature. Now what do we precisely understand by the law of causality? We understand by it the keeping up of an uninterrupted dependency throughout the various links of creation; or the fact that one Being assumes, without resistance or challenge, the state modification, or whatever we may choose to call it, imposed upon by another Being. Hence the law of causality is emphatically the law of virtual surrender or assent. Now the natural man-man as he is born-is clearly placed entirely under the dominion of this law. He is, as we have often said, a mere passive reature throughout. He dons the sensations and the passions that come to him, and bends before them like a sapling in the wind. But it is by no means so obvious that the conscious man-that man become "I"-is also placed under jurisdiction of this law. The "I" stands in a direct antithesis to the natural man; it is reaalized through consciousness, an act of antagonism against his passive modifications. Are we then to suppose that is "I" stands completely under the aw of causality, or of virtual surrender-that the man entirely assents, and offers no resistance to the passive states into which he may be cast? then in this case no act of antagonism taking place, consciousness of course disappears, and the "I" becomes extinct. If therefore, consciousness and the "I" become extinct beneath the law of causality, their appearance and realization cannot depend upon that law, but must be brought about by a direct violation of the law of causality. If the "I" disappears in consequence of the law of causality, it must manifest, if it manifests itself at all, in spite of that law. If the law of virtual assent is its death, nothing but the law of actual dissent, the opposite of causality, can give it life. Here then in the realization of the "I," we find a counter-law established to the law of causality. The law of causality is the law of assent-and upon this law man's natural being and all his modifications depend. But the life of the "I" depends upon the law of dissent-of resistance to all his natural or derivative states. And if the one of these laws-the law of assent-is known by the name of causality-the other of them, the law of dissent, which in man clashes with the law of causality at every point, is or ought to be known by the desig nation of will; and this will, this law of dissent which embodies itself in an act of antagonism against the states which depend upon the law of the caus ality-and which may therefore be call ed the law of freedom, as the other is the law of bondage, is the ground-law of humanity, and lies at the bottom of the whole operation of consciousness, at the roots of the existence of the "I." Much more might be said concerning these two great laws, which may be best studied and understood in their opposition or conflict with one another. But we have dug sufficiently deep downwards. It is now time that we should begin to dig upwards, and escape out of these mines of humanity, in which we have been working hard, although we know with most imperfect hands. We have trod, we trust with no unhallowed step, but with a foot venturous after truth, on the confines of those dread abysses, which in all ages have shaken beneath the feet of the greatest thinkers among men. We have seen and handled the dark ore of humanity in its pure and elemental state. It will be a comparatively easy task to trace it forth in its general currency through the ranks of ordinary superficial life. In our next and concluding discussion, we will endeavour to point out the consequences of the act of consciousness; and we trust that the navigation through which we shall then have to steer will be less intricate and perplexing than that through which our present course has lain. |