him to become "I" then. When he was first born he was just as sensitive as he ever was afterwards,—no doubt more so,—but for long his sensations continued pure and unalloyed. After a time, however, they were found to be combined with the notion and reality of self—a new notion and reality altogether. The human Being has now become ego; from a thing he has become a person. But what new circumstances were there in his sensations, or their exciting causes, by which they brought about this new fact and phasis of existence? The metaphysician cannot answer us. He must admit that the sensations and their causes remain, after the manifestation of the ego, precisely what they were before it came into existence, and, therefore, that they can never account for its origin.
But we have already, in the preceding chapter, disproved still more effectually the fact that the ego comes into existence in consequence of the influence of external objects. We there showed that consciousness not only does not manifest itself in obedience to their action, but that it actually tends to be suppressed and obliterated thereby. Now consciousness is the very essence and origin of the ego—consciousness creates the ego—without consciousness no man would be" I." Therefore the ego is also exempt from the influence of outward objects, and manifests itself, and maintains its place, not in consequence, but in spite of them. Consciousness develops and preserves itself by refusing to take part or identify itself with the sensation, passion, or whatever it may be that is striving to enslave the man; and the ego, which is but the more personal and vital expression of consciousness, exists merely by refusing to imbibe the impressions of external things. Thus, so far is it from being true that outward objects take effect upon me, that "I," in truth, only am by resisting and refusing to be impressed by their action.
When an effect or impression is produced on any substance, whether it be motion, as in the case of a struck billiard ball, or sensation, as in the case of animals and men, the substance impressed is either conscious of the impression, as is the case with men, or unconscious of it, as is the case with animals and billiard-balls. If it be unconscious of the impression, then, being filled and monopolized by the same, it never rises above it, but, yielding to its influence, it becomes altogether the slave of the law of causality, or of the force that is working on it. But if this substance be conscious of the impression made upon it, then it is absolutely necessary, in the eye of reason, that a portion of this being should stand aloof from the impression—should be exempt from the action of the object causing it—in short, should resist, repel, and deny it in the exercise of a free activity; otherwise, like animals and inferior things, being completely absorbed and monopolized by the influence present to it, it would no more be able to become conscious of it than a leaf can comprehend the gale in which it is drifting along, or the tiger the passion which impels him to slake his burning heart in blood. It is obvious that the point in man at which he becomes aware of his impressions must be free from these impressions, and must stand out of their sphere, otherwise it would be swallowed up by them, and nothing save the impressions would remain. But man is not made up of mere impressions—passions, sensations, "states of mind," or whatever they may be. He is not engulfed and borne along in their vortices. There is a point from which he looks down upon them all, and knows himself to be free. He stands within a circle more impregnable than enchanter's ring—a circle which, however much they may assault it, they cannot overpass; and this point or circle of freedom—this true life of humanity, is that which, in the case of each man, is "I."
This view disposes of a question which has been ever regarded as forming the opprobrium of metaphysics. We allude to the problem respecting the mode and nature of the intercourse which takes place between the external universe and man—or, as metaphysicians say, "Mind." This question is now given up—not because it has been solved—not because it is regarded as too contemptible and irrelevant to be entertained by speculative philosophy, but (pro pudor!) because it is considered insoluble, inscrutable, and beyond the limits of the human faculties. Oh, ye metaphysicians! ye blind leaders of the blind! How long will ye be of seeing and understanding that there is no communication at all be-
