and blowing aside from it the mist of ages, we have endeavoured to realize it in all its purity and independence, and to make it stand forth as the most prominent, signal, and distinguishing phenomenon of humanity. But in doing this we have done little more than establish the fact that consciousness does come into operation. We still expect to be able to make its character and significance more and more plain as we advance, and now beg to call the attention of the reader to three other problems, which may be said to constitute the very vitals of the science of ourselves. These are, first,— When does consciousness come into operation? Second, How does consciousness come into operation? And third, What are the consequences of its coming into operation? The discussion of these three problems will, it is thought, sufficiently exhaust this Introduction to the Philosophy of Consciousness.
First, however, let us remark that it was not possible that these problems could ever have been distinctly propounded, much less resolved by the "philosophy of the human mind." This false science regards as its proper facts the states or phenomena of mind, or, in other words, the objects of the act of consciousness degrading this act itself, into the mere medium or instrument through which these objects are known. Thus researches concerning the nature and origin of the objects of consciousness (of sensation, for instance), and not concerning the genesis of the act itself of consciousness, constituted the problems of the science of mind. Our very familiarity with this latter fact has blunted our perception of its importance, and has turned us aside from the observation of it. Metaphysicians have been so much in the habit of considering all the mental phenomena as so evidently and indissolubly accompanied by consciousness, that the fact that they are thus accompanied being taken for granted, as a matter of course—as a necessity of nature—has been allowed to fall out of notice as unworthy of any further consideration. Yet we have all along seen that these phenomena might perfectly well have existed, and in animals and children of a certain age actually do exist, without consciousness; or, in other words, without being accompanied by the fact of personality—the notion and the reality expressed by the word "I." In short, we have seen that the presence of consciousness forms the exception, and that the absence of consciousness forms the great rule of creation: inspired, though that creation is, throughout, by intelligence, sensation, and desire. In devoting our attention, therefore (as the philosophers of mind have hitherto done), to such phenomena as intelligence, sensation, and desire, we should virtually be philosophizing concerning unconscious creatures; and not concerning man in his true and distinctive character; we should, moreover, as has been shown, be studying an order of phenomena, which not only do not assist the manifestation of consciousness, but which naturally tend to prevent it from coming into operation; and finally, we should, at any rate, be merely contemplating attributes which man possesses in common with the rest of creation. But the true science of every being proceeds upon the discovery and examination of facts, or a fact peculiar to the Being in question. But the phenomenon peculiar to man—the only fact which accurately and completely contradistinguishes him from all other creatures is no other than this very fact of consciousness—this very fact, that he does take cognizance of his intelligent and rational states, blending with them, or realizing in conjunction with them, his own personality—a realization which animals, endowed though they are like man with reason and with passion, never accomplish. And thus it is that the fact of consciousness, from having occupied the obscurest and most neglected position in all psychology, rises up into paramount importance, and instead of submitting to be treated with slight and cursory notice, and then passed from, as the mere medium through which the proper facts of psychology are known to us, becomes itself the leading, and, properly speaking, the only fact of the science; while, at the same time, questions as to its nature and origin, the time, manner, and consequences of its manifestation, come to form the highest problems that can challenge our attention when engaged in the study of ourselves. All the other facts connected with us are fatalistic; it is in this phenomenon alone, as we shall see, that the elements of our freedom are to be found.VOL. XLIII. NO. CCLXXII.
