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some degree the perfected image of his Creator, by sternly laying waste, through consciousness, the wilderness of his own natural desires, for he well knows, that wherever he has extirpated a weed, there, and only there, will God plant a flower, or suffer it to grow. But the epicurean, or false philosopher, makes a direct assault upon the gates of paradise itself. He seeks to return straight into the arms of good, without fighting his way through the strong and innumerable forces of evil. He would reproduce the golden age, without directly con

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fronting and resisting the ages of iron and of brass. By following the footsteps of nature, he imagines that he may be carried back into the paradise from which his forefather was cast forth. But, alas! it is not thus that the happy garden is to be won; for, "at the east of the garden of Eden hath not God placed" cherubims, and a flaming sword which turns every way, to keep the way of the tree of life?" and, therefore, the epicurean is compelled, at last, to sink down, outside the trenches of paradise, into an inert and dreaming sensualist.

CHAPTER II.

Neither overrating nor underrating the pretensions of philosophy, let us now, as our final task, demonstrate the entire harmony between her and the scheme of Christian revelation. Philosophy has done much for man, but she cannot do every thing for him; she cannot convert a struggling act (consciousness in its antagonism against evil); she cannot convert this act into a permanent and glorified substance. She can give the strife; but she cannot give the repose. This Christianity alone can give. But neither can Christianity do every thing for man. She, too, demands her prerequisites; she demands a true consciousness on the part of man of the condition in which he stands. In other words, she demands, on man's own part, a perception of his own want or need of her divine support. This support she can give him, but she cannot give him a sense of his own need of it. This philosophy must supply. Here, therefore, Christianity accepts the assistance of philosophy; true though it be, that the latter, even in her highest and most exhaustive flight, only brings man up to the point at which religion spreads her wings, and carries him on to a higher and more transcendent elevation. Her apex is the basis of Christianity. The highest round in the ladder of philosophy is the lowest in the scale of Christian grace. All that true philosophy can do, or professes to do, is merely to pass man through the preparatory discipline of rendering him conscious of evil, that is, of the only "thing of which he can be really conscious on this earth; and thus to place

him in such a position as may enable the influences of loftier truth, and of more substantial good, to take due effect upon his heart. The discipline of philosophy is essentially destruc. tive-that of Christianity is essentially constructive. The latter busies herself in the positive reproduction of good; but only after philosophy has, to a certain extent, prepared the ground for her, by putting forth the act of consciousness, and by thus executing her own negative task, which consists in the resistance of evil. Christianity re-impresses us with the positive image of God which we had lost through the fall; but philosophy, in the act of consciousness, must first, to a greater or a less extent, have commenced a defacement of the features of the devil stamped upon our natural hearts, before we can take on, in the least degree, the impress of that divine signature.

Such, we do not fear to say, is the preliminary discipline of man, which Christianity demands at the hands of philosophy. But there are people who imagine that the foundation-stone of the whole Christian scheme consists in this; that man can, and must do, nothing for himself. Therefore, let us speak a few words in refutation of this paralyzing doctrine.

Do not the Scriptures themselves say, "ask and it shall be given unto you." Here, then, we find asking made the condition of our receiving: and hence it is plain that we are not to receive this asking; for supposing that we do receive it, then this can only be because we have complied with the condition annexed to our receiving it;

or, in other words, it can only be because we have practised an anterior asking in order to obtain the asking which has been vouchsafed to us. Therefore this asking must ultimately, according to the very first requisitions of Christianity, fall to be considered as our own act; and now, then, we put the question to those who maintain the doctrine just stated-must we not "ask," must not this "asking" be our own deed-and do you call this doing nothing for ourselves? In the same way does not the Gospel say, "seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you," evidently holding forth seeking as the condition of our finding, and knocking as the condition upon which "it shall be opened." And, now, must not this "seeking" and this "knocking" be done by ourselves; and if they must, what becomes of the doctrine that man can do nothing, and must attempt to do nothing, for himself?

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This doctrine that we can do nothing for ourselves is based upon an evident oversight and confusion of thought in the minds of the espousers of it. "Attempt no toil of your own," say these inert disciplinarians of humanity, "but seek ye the kingdom of heaven in the revealed word of God, and there ye shall find it with all its blessings.' True; but these teachers overlook the fact that there are two distinct questions, and two distinct tasks involved in this precept of "seeking the kingdom of heaven." To some people, the injunction, "seek for it faithfully, and ye shall find it in the Scriptures," may be sufficient. But others, again, (and we believe the generality of men are in this predicament) may require, first of all, to be informed about a very different matter, and may be unable to rest satisfied until they have obtained this information they may demand, namely, an answer to a new question-but where shall we find the seeking of the kingdom of heaven? Before finding it self, we must know how, and where, and in what way, we are to find the seeking of it; for that is the great secret which eludes and baffles our researches.

The only answer that can be given to these querists is, you must find the seeking of it in yourselves. The Bible reveals to us the kingdom of heaven itself; but philosophy it is that leads us to the discovery of our own search

after it. To this discovery philosophy leads us, by teaching us to know ourselves

by teaching us what we really are. And what does philosophy teach us respecting ourselves? Does she teach us that we stand in an harmonious relation towards the universe around us

towards the universe within us-towards the world of our own passions and desires-towards the strength or the weaknesses (be they which they may) of our own flesh and blood? And does she thus show us that the life of man here below is a life of blessedness and repose? No!-on the contrary, she shows us that our very act of consciousness, on the one hand; and, on the other hand, all the natural laws and conditions under which we are born, stand in a relation of diametrical discord towards each other: that we are made up of passions and susceptibilities, every one of which is thwarted and condemned in our very consciousness of it: that "there is a law in our members" (the causal law) "warring against the law in our minds" (the law of will, of freedom, of consciousness); and that the war between these two laws is one which no truce, brought about by human diplomacy, can ever still. For though consciousness may act against evil, yet it can never change the mere resistance of evil into a positive body of good. Consciousness may resist wrath, but it cannot convert this resistance of wrath into a positive peaceful-mindedness. Consciousness may resist hatred, but this act cannot transmute the resistance of hatred into positive and substantial love. Consciousness may resist selfishness, but it cannot convert this resistance of selfishness into a decided and abiding spirit of charity. This conversion cannot be effected by consciousness or by philosophy, it must be effected by the intervention of a higher power-building, however, on the ground-work which consciousness lays in its antagonism against evil; and this is what philosophy herself teaches unto man. shows him, that so long as our consciousness and our passions merely, are in the field, although it is true that our regeneration must commence in their strife, yet that these elements meet together only in a bitter and interminable struggle, and do not embody of themselves any positive issues of good. Thus is he led by the very strife which philosophy reveals to

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him, tearing his being asunder, to feel the necessity under which he lies of obtaining strength, support, and repose, from a higher source:-thus is he led by philosophy to discover, in the bitter strife between consciousness and his passions, his own importunate seeking of the kingdom of heaven, as the only means through whose intervention his struggling and toilsome acts may be embodied and perpetuated in glorious and triumphant substances his resistance of hatred changed by Divine grace into Christian love and all his other resistances of evil (mere negative qualities) transmuted by the power of a celestial alchemy into positive and substantial virtues.

Thus philosophy brings man up to the points which Christianity postulates, as the conditions on which her blessings are to be bestowed. In revealing to man the strife, which, in the very act of consciousness, exists be

tween himself and his whole natural man, philosophy, of course, brings him to entertain the desire that this strife should be composed. But the desire that this strife should be composed, is itself nothing but a seeking of the kingdom of heaven. It is no desire on man's part to give up the fight, to abandon the resistance of evil, but it is a determination to carry this resistance to its uttermost issues, and then, through Divine assistance, to get this resistance embodied in positive and enduring good. Thus philosophy having brought man up to the points so forcibly insisted on by Christianity-having taught him to "knock," to "ask," and to "seek"having explained the grounds of these pre-requisites (which Scripture postulates, but does not explain), she then leaves him in the hands of that more effective discipline, to be carried forward in the career of a brighter and constantly increasing perfectibility.

CHAPTER III.

We will now conclude, by recapitulating very shortly the chief points of our whole discussion.

I. Our first enquiry regarded the method to be adopted, and the proper position to be occupied when contemplating the phenomena of man, and, out of that contemplation, endeavouring to construct a science of ourselves. The method hitherto employed in psychological research we found to be in the highest degree objectionable. It is this: the fact, or act of consciousness, was regarded as the mere medium through which the phenomena, or "states of mind "-the proper facts of psychology, as they were thought to be-were observed. Thus consciousness was the point which was looked from, and not the point which was looked at. The phenomena looked at were our sensations, passions, emotions, intellectual states, &c., which might certainly have existed without consciousness, although, indeed, they could not have been known except through that act. The phenomenon looked from, although tacitly recognised, was in reality passed over without observation; and thus consciousness, the great fact of humanity, together with all its grounds and consequences, has been altogether over

looked in the study of man, while, in consequence of this oversight, his freedom, will, morality-in short, all his peculiar attributes, have invariably crumbled into pieces whenever he has attempted to handle them scientifi cally.

We trace this erroneous method, this false position, this neglect of the fact of consciousness, entirely to the attempts of our scientific men to establish a complete analogy between psychological and physical research; and, to follow the error to its foun tain-head, we boldly trace it up to a latitude of interpretation given to the fundamental canon of the Baconian philosophy: "Homo, naturæ minister et interpres, de naturæ ordine tantum scit et potest, quantum observaverit, nec amplius scit aut potest."

As far as this great rule is held applicable to the study and science of nature, we admit it to be unexceptionable; but when we find it so extended in its application as to include man indiscriminately with nature, we must pause; and although this extension of its meaning should be shown to be in perfect accordance with the whole spirit of Bacon's writings, we must venture, in the name of philosophy, and backed by a more rigorous observation

than that which he or any of his followers contend for, to challenge its validity, venerable and authoritative though it be.

We do not, indeed, assert that this maxim, even when taken in its utmost latitude, contains any thing which is absolutely false; but we hope to show, that, in its application to the science of man, and as a fundamental rule of psychology, it falls very far short of the whole truth, and is of a very misleading tendency. If it has acted like fanners upon the physical sciences, it has certainly fallen like an extinguisher upon philosophy.

The method laid down in this canon as the only true foundation of science, is the method of observation. The question then comes to be: can this method be properly applied to the phenomena of man, in exactly the same sense as it is applied to the phenomena of nature? The disciples of Lord Bacon tell us that it can, and must, if we would construct a true science of ourselves; but, in opposition to their opinion, we undertake to show, that, in the case of man, circumstances are evolved, which render his observation of his own phenomena of a totally different character from his observation of the phenomena of nature. Let us, then, illustrate the method of observation,-first, in its application to nature; and secondly, in its application to man.

We will call nature and her phenomena B, and we will call the observer A. Now, it is first to be remarked, that in A there is developed the fact of A's observation of B: but the proper and sole business of A being to observe the phenomena of B, and A's observation of the phenomena of B not being a fact belonging to B, it, of course, does not call for any notice whatsoever from A. It would be altogether irrelevant for A, when observing the phenomena of B, to observe the fact of his own observation of these phenomena. Therefore, in the natural sciences, the fact of A's observation of B is the point looked from, and cannot become the point looked at, without a departure being made from the proper procedure of physics. These sciences, then, are founded entirely on the method of simple observation. Observatio simplex is all that is here practised, and is all that is here necessary; and, whenever it shall have been put forth in its fullest extent, the

science of B, or nature, may be considered complete.

Let us now try how the same me. thod of simple or physical observation works in its application to psychology. We will call man and his phenomena A; and, as man is here the observer, as well as the observed, we must call the observer A too. Now, it is ob vious that in A (man observed) there are plenty of phenomena present-his sensations, "states of mind," &c., and that A (man observing) may construct a sort of science out of these by simply observing them, just as he constructed the natural sciences by observing the phenomena of B. And this is precisely what our ordinary psychologists have done, adhering to the Baconian canon. But the slightest reflection will show us that such a science of man must necessarily be a false one, inasmuch as it leaves out of view one of his most important phenomena. For, as in the preceding case of A and B, so now in the case of A and A, there is developed the fact of A's observation of A. But this fact, which, in the case of A and B was very properly overlooked, and was merely considered as the point to be looked from, cannot here be legitimately overlooked, but insists most peremptorily upon being made the point to be looked at; for the two A's are not really two, but one and the same; and, therefore, A's observation of the phenomena of A is itself a new phenomenon of A, calling for a new observation. Thus, while physical observation is simple, philosophical, or psychological observation is double. It is observatio duplex: the observation of observation, observalio observationis.

Now, we maintain, that the disciples of the Baconian school have never recognised this distinction; or rather have never employed any other than the method of single observation, in studying the phenomena of man. They have been too eager to observe every thing, ever to have thought of duly observing the fact of observation itself.

This phenomenon, by which every thing else was brought under observation, was itself allowed an immunity frem observation; and entirely to this laxness or neglect, are, in our opinion, to be attributed all the errors that have vitiated, and all the obstructions that have retarded the science of ourselves.

The distinction which we have just pointed out between these two kinds of observation, the single and the double, the physical and the psychological, is radical and profound. The method to be pursued in studying nature, and the method to be pursued in studying man, can now no longer be regarded as the same. The physical method observes-but the psychological method swings itself higher than this, and observes observation. Thus psychology, or philosophy properly so called, commences precisely at the point where physical science ends. When the phenomena of nature have been observed and classified, the science of nature is ended. But when the phenomena of man, his feelings, intellectual and other states, have been observed and classified, true psychology has yet to begin ::-we have yet to observe our observation of these phenomena, this fact constituting, in our opinion, the only true and all-comprehensive fact which the science of man has to deal with—and only after it has been taken up and faithfully observed, can philosophy be said to have commenced.

Further, the divergence which, in consequence of this distinction, takes place at their very first step, between psychological and physical science is prodigious. In constructing the physical sciences, man occupies the position of a mere observer. It is true that his observation of the phenomena of nature is an act—and that so far he is an agent as well as an observer, but as this act belongs to himself, and as he has here. no business with any phenomena except those belonging to nature, he cannot legitimately take any notice of this agency. But in constructing a science of himself man occupies more than the position of a mere observer-for his observation of his own phenomena is an act—and as this act belongs to himself whom he is studying, he is bound to notice it; and, moreover, as this act of observation must be performed before it can be observed, man is thus compelled to be an agent before he is an observer; or, in other words, must himself act or create the great phenomenon which he is to observe. This is what he never does in the case of the physical sciences-the phenomena here observed are entirely attributable to nature. Mau has nothing to do with their

creation. In physics, therefore, man is, as we have said, a mere observer. But in philosophy he has, first of all, to observe his own phenomena (this he does in the free act of his ordinary consciousness): he thus creates, by his own agency, a new fact-the fact, namely, of his observation of these phenomena; and then he has to subject this new fact to a new and systematic observation, which may be called the reflective or philosophic conscious

ness.

The observation of our own natural phenomena (observatio simplex), is the act of consciousness: the observation of the observation of our own phenomena (observatio duplex), or, in other words, the observation of consciousness is philosophy. Such are our leading views on the subject of the method of psychology, as contradistinguished from the method of physical science.

II. The act of consciousness, or the fact of our observation of our own natural modifications having been thus pointed out as the great phenomena to be observed in psychology, we next turned our attention to the contents and origin of this act, subdividing our enquiry into three distinct questions : When does consciousness come into manifestation: How does it come into manifestation; and what are the consequences of its coming into manifestation.

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III. In discussing the question, when does consciousness come into manifestation? We found that man is not born conscious; and that therefore consciousness is not a given or ready-made fact of humanity. looking for some sign of its manifestation, we found that it has come into operation whenever the human being has pronounced the word "I," knowing what this expression means. This word is a highly curious one, and quite an anomaly, inasmuch as its true meaning is utterly incommunicable by one being to another-endow the latter with as high a degree of intelligence as you please. Its origin cannot be explained by imitation or association. Its meaning cannot be taught by any conceivable process; but must be originated absolutely by the being using it. This is not the case with any other form of speech. For instance, if it be asked what is a table? a person may point to one, and say, "that is a table."

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