mean merely to express the aggregate of the "states;" that is, of the sensations, feelings, &c., which the human being may or may not be conscious of; but, somehow or other, he blends and intertwines consciousness (or the notion of self,—self-reference) with these "states," and considers this fact as their necessary, essential, invariable, or inextricable accompaniment. He thus vests in mind, besides its own states, passions, sensations, &c., the fact of the consciousness of these, and the being to whom that consciousness belongs; thus constituting "mind" into the man, and making the one of these terms convertible with the other.
Now here it is that we beg leave to enter our protest. We object most strongly to this doctrine as one which introduces into psychology a "confusion worse confounded;" as one which, if allowed to prevail, must end in obliterating everything like science, morality, and even man himself, as far as his true and peculiar character is concerned—substituting in place of him a machine, an automaton, of which the law of causality composes and regulates the puppet-strings.
This, then, is the precise point at issue between us:—The metaphysician wishes to make "mind" constitute and monopolize the whole man—we refuse to admit that "mind" constitutes any part of the true and real man whatsoever. The metaphysician confounds the consciousness of a "state of mind," and the being to whom this consciousness belongs, with the "state of mind" itself. Our great object is to keep these two distinctly and vividly asunder. This distinction is one which, as shall soon be shown, is constantly made both by common sense and by common language—a consideration which throws the presumption of truth strongly in our favour. It is one which appears to us to constitute the great leading principle upon which the whole of psychology hinges—one without the strict observance of which any science of ourselves is altogether impossible or null.
We are still, then, quite willing to vest in "mind" all the "states" of mind. But the fact of the consciousness of these states—the notion of himself as the person to whom this consciousness belongs, we insist in vesting in the man, or in that being who calls himself "I;" and in this little word expresses compendiously all the facts which really and truly belong to him. The question in dispute, and which has to be decided between the metaphysician and ourselves, may be thus worded:—He wishes to give everything unto "mind," while we wish to give unto mind the things which are mind's, and unto man the things which are man's. If we can succeed in making good our point, psychology will be considerably lightened—lightened of a useless and unmarketable cargo which has kept her almost lockfast for many generations, and which she ought never to have taken on board; for our very first act will be to fling "mind" with all its lumber overboard, and, busying ourselves exclusively with the man and his facts, we shall see whether the science will not float them. But our first problem is to vindicate and make good the distinction we have pointed out.
Before going further, let us make use of an illustration, which will, perhaps, be of some preliminary assistance in rendering our meaning, together with the point at issue, still more distinct and manifest to the reader. The mountains, let us say, which the eye beholds are the objects of its vision. In the same way the passions, sensations, "states of mind," &c., which the man is, or may be, conscious of, are the objects of his consciousness, of his conscious self. But no one ever supposes that the fact of vision is the same as the objects of vision. The former appertains to the eye; the latter constitute the mountains seen. The objects of vision may exist and do exist without the fact of vision, and do not create or enforce this fact as their necessary and invariable accompaniment. To make no discrimination between these two things would be confessedly in the highest degree absurd. It is just the same with regard to the fact of consciousness and the objects of consciousness. The fact of consciousness belongs to the man himself, to that being which calls itself "I;" and this, truly speaking, is all that belongs to him. The objects of consciousness, namely, man's passions, sensations, &c., are not, properly speaking, his at all. The fact and notion of self do not necessarily or always accompany them. They may be referred to "mind," or
