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man's undetermined power of choosing; but, whence comes his act of particular choice or determination? Is it derivative? can it be traced out of him up into some foreign source? Then, of course, his liberty vanishes. Is it not derivative? Then his liberty stands good; but is no longer found to consist in a state of indetermination to several courses of action. It must be conceived of as an underived or absolutely self-grounded act of determination in favour of one.

Thus, then, the conception of liberty is reduced to some degree of distinctness and tangibility. If there be such a thing as human liberty, it must be identical with an absolutely original or underived act; and the conception of the one of these must be the same as the conception of the other of them. But it is still our business to show in what way the conception of such an act is possible.

It is palpably impossible to conceive liberty, or an underived act, as arising out of man's natural or given existence. According to our very conception of this species of existence, all the activity put forth out of it is of a derivative or transmitted character. As we have already said, such kind of activity is not activity at all, but passivity. Not being originated absolutely by the creature who apparently exerts it, every particle of it falls to be refunded back out of this creature into the source from whence it really comes; and this clearly leaves the being in question a mere passive creature throughout; and, at any rate, incapable of putting forth a primary and underived act.

But though it is impossible for us to conceive an underived act put forth out of man's natural existence, there is yet nothing to prevent us from conceiving an act of this kind put forth against man's natural or given exist

ence. If we consider it well, we shall be satisfied that it is only on this ground that the conception of an underived act is possible: and, moreover, we shall see that, on this ground, the conception of such an act is inevitable.

For if we suppose an act of antagonism to take place against the whole of man's given existence, against all that man is born-it is impossible that this act itself can be given or derivative; for the supposition is, that this act is opposed to all the given or derivative in man, and is nothing except in so far as it is thus opposed. Îf, therefore, it were itself derivative, being no longer the opposite of the derivative, it would be a nonentity; or, it would be a suicidal act, exterminating itself. Therefore, if we are to form a conception at all of such an antagonist act, we must conceive it as absolutely primary and underived; and on the other hand, if we would frame a true conception of human liberty, or an underived act, we can only conceive it as the antagonist act we have been describing-we must conceive it as an act opposing or resisting every thing in man which is given, passive, natural, or born.

Thus, then, we have now shown in what way a correct conception of human liberty is to be framed; or, in other words, we have pointed out the grounds upon which man's freedom is possible. It is possible, because the particular act described as identical and convertible with it, namely, an act of determinate antagonism against the natural or unconscious man, can, at any rate, be conceived. But, admitting that it may be conceived, we must now ask, Is it also practised? Is Human Liberty actual as well as possible? Besides finding its realization in thought, does it also find its realization in fact?

CHAPTER III.

For an answer to this question we must refer ourselves to observation and experience. But observation and experience have already decided the point. Consciousness itself is the actualization of the conception we have been describing. Lying between the two species of human existence discriminated at the commencement of this

paper, consciousness is an act of antagonism against the one of them, and has the other of them for its result. A glance at the very surface of man showed it to be a matter of general notoriety, that sensation and the consciousness of sensation, passion and the consciousness of passion, never coexist in an equal degree of intensity. We

found the great law connected with them to be this; not that they grew with each other's growth and strength ened with each other's strength, but, on the contrary, that each of them gained just in proportion as the other lost. Wherever a passion was observed to be carried to its greatest excess, a total absence or cessation of consciousness was noticed to be the result, and the man lost his person ality. When consciousness began to re-assert itself, and to regain its place, the passion, in its turn, began to give way, and, becoming diminished or suspended, the man recovered his personality. The same was observed to be the case with regard to sensation. A sensation is notoriously most absorbing when the least consciousness of it has place; and, therefore, is not the conclusion legitimate that it would be still more effective-that it would be all-absorbing, provided no sciousness of it interfered to dissolve the charm? And does not all this prove that consciousness is an act of antagonism against the modifications of man's natural being, and that, indeed, it has no office, character, or conceivability at all, unless of this antagonist and negative description?

con

But this act has, as it were, two sides, and although single, it fulfils a double office. We have still to show, more clearly than we have yet done, how this act, breaking up the great natural unities of sensation and of passion, at once displaces the various modifications of man's given existence, and, by a necessary consequence, places the being which was not given-namely, the "I" of humanity-the true and proper being of every man who cometh into the world." This discussion will lead us into more minute and practical details than any we have yet encountered.

The earliest modifications of man's natural being are termed "sensations." These sensations are, like all the other

changes of man's given existence purely passive in their character. They are states of suffering, whether the suffering be of pleasure or of pain, or of an indifferent cast. There is obviously nothing original or active connected with them. There is nothing in them except their own given contents, and these are entirely derivative. In the smell of a rose, for instance, there is nothing present except the smell of a rose. In a word, let us turn and twist, increase or diminish any sensation as we please, we can twist and turn it into nothing except the par ticular sensation which it is.

Let us suppose, then, a particular sensation to be impressed upon any of man's organs of sense-let us suppose it propagated forwards along the nerves-let us trace it forth unto the brain-let us admit Hartley's or any other philosopher's "vibrations," "elastic medium," or "animal spirits," to be facts; and finally, let us suppose it, through the intervention of the one or other of these, landed and safely lodged in what metaphysicians are pleased to term the "mind;" still we maintain that, in spite of this circuitous operation, the man would remain utterly unconscious, and would not, in consequence of it, have any existence as "I" (the only kind of existence which properly concerns him), nor would the external object have any existence as an object for him. He would not perceive it, although sentient of it; the reason of which is, that perception implies an "I," and a "not I," a subject and object; and a subject and object involve a duality; and a duality presupposes an act of discrimination. But no act of discrimination-no act of any kind is involved in sensationtherefore, man might continue to undergo sensations until doomsday, without ever becoming "1," and without ever perceiving an external * universe.

The statement that we become acquainted with the existence of an external world through, and in consequence of, our sensations, besides its falsehood, embodies perhaps the boldest petitio principii upon record. How are we assured of the reality of an external world? asks the philosophy of scepticism. Through the senses, answers the philosophy of faith. But are not the senses themselves a part of the external universe? and is not this answer, therefore, equivalent to saying that we become assured of the reality of the external universe through the external universe? or, in other words, is not this solution of the question a direct taking-for-granted of the very matter in dispute? It may be frivolous to raise such a question, but it is certainly far more frivolous to resolve it in this manner-the manner usually practised by our Scottish philosophers.

How then does man become " I?" nation laid down between them implies how does he become percipient of an the presence of the element of negaexternal universe? We answer, not tion, that is to say, knowledge, conthrough sensation, but by and through sciousness, perception, depend upon an act of discrimination, or virtual the restoration of the element we supnegation. This negation is not, and posed withdrawn, and are inconceivneed not be expressed in words. It able and impossible without it. It is is a silent, but deep deed, making each therefore evident, that if man, in senman an individual person; and it is sation, were virtually identified with enough, if the reality of it be present, the object, were the same as it, he even although the expression and dis- would never perceive it,-it would tinct conception of it should be absent. never be an object to him, and just as But, if the reality were actually ab- little would he be "I." But the only sent, then there would be a difference way in which this virtual identificaindeed. If "no," in thought, and in tion is to be avoided, is by and through deed, were taken out of the world, an implied discrimination. Then only man would never become "I," and, do the "I" and "not I" emerge, and for him, the external universe would become the "I" and the "not I." remain a nonentity. Sensation, pas- But an implied discrimination involves sion, &c., would continue as strong an act of negation, either implicitly and violent as ever, but consciousness or explicitly. Therefore, an act of would depart; man and nature," I," negation, actual or virtual, is the funand not "I," subject and object lap- damental act of humanity-is the consing into one, and every thing merging dition upon which consciousness and in a great unity, would be as though knowledge depend-is the act which they were not. Indeed, the conse- makes the universe an object to usquences of the disappearance of this is the ground, and the placer of the small and apparently insignificant ele-"I" and the " not I.” ment are altogether incalculable.

Let

An illustrative view will help to render our meaning more distinct, and our statement more convincing. 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 rosc. 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 with out this element could the man ever become "I." For let us suppose this element to be absolutely withdrawn-to 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

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Do metaphysicians still desire information with respect to the "nature of the connexion," the "mode of communication" 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 succeeded in dispersing. But, repudiating the hypothesis of mind," let us use the word, and attend to the

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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 without 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," and 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 distinctness, 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,

and to inform him distinctly what it is that takes place between "mat ter" 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-proteron; in vulgar language, it places the cart before the horse. For, as we have all along seen, the being "I" arises out of 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 constituent ground upon which it rests, and therefore the being "I" cannot possibly precede or ba 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

* børigor mgorigov—a last-first,

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 modi. fications 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, in 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 monopoly. 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 was theirs before the act of negation broke the universe asunder into the world of man and the world of nature.

This, then, proves that conscious. ness, 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 underived and free. The proof is as follows. 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 opposite 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 passion. 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 bas 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

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