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1839.] But, if it be asked: what does "I" mean; and if the same person were to point to himself and say—"this is 'I,' "—this would convey quite a wrong meaning, unless the inquirer, before putting the question, had originated within himself the notion "I," for it would lead him to suppose, and to call that other person "I."—This is a strange paradox, but a true one; that a person would be considered mad, unless he applied to himself a particular name, which if any other person were to apply to him, he would be considered mad.

Neither are we to suppose that this word "I" is a generic word, equally applicable to us all, like the word "man; " for, if it were, then we should all be able to call each other "I," just as we can all call each other with propriety "man."

Further, the consideration of this question, by conducting us to inquiries of a higher interest, and of a real significance, enables us to get rid of most or all of the absurd and unsatisfactory speculations connected with that unreal substance which nobody knows any thing about—called "mind." If mind exists at all, it exists as much when man is born as it ever does afterwards,—therefore, in the development of mind, no new form of humanity is evolved. But no man is born "I"; yet, after a time, every man becomes "I." Here, then, is a new form of humanity displayed—and, therefore, the great question is,—what is the genesis of this new form of man?—What are the facts of its origin? How does it come into manifestation? Leave "mind" alone, ye metaphysicians, and answer us that.

IV. It is obvious that the new form of humanity, called "I," is evolved out of the act of consciousness; and this brings us to the second problem of our inquiry: how is the act itself of consciousness evolved? A severe scrutiny of the act of consciousness showed us, that this act, or, in other words, that our observation of our own phenomena, is to a certain extent a displacement or suspension of them; that these phenomena (our sensations, passions, and other modifications) are naturally of a monopolising tendency—that is to say, they tend to keep us unconscious, to engross us with themselves,—while, on the contrary, consciousness or our observation of them, is of a contrary tendency, and operates to render us unsentient, unpassionate, &c. We found, from considering facts, that consciousness on the one hand, and all our natural modifications on the other, existed in an inverse ratio to one another—that wherever the natural modification is plus, the consciousness of it is minus, and vice versa. We thus found that the great law regulating the relationship between the conscious man (the "I") and the natural man was the law of antagonism—and thus consciousness was found to be an act of antagonism; or (in order to render our deduction more distinct) we shall rather say was found to be evolved out of an act of antagonism put forth against the modifications of the natural man.

But out of what is this act of antagonism evolved? What are its grounds? Let us consider what it is put forth against. All man's natural modifications are derivative—and this act is put forth against all these natural modifications—there is not one of them which is not more or less impaired by its presence. It cannot, therefore, be itself derivative, for if it were, it would be an acting against itself, which is absurd. Being, therefore, an act which opposes all that is derivative in man, it cannot be itself derivative, but must be underived—that is, must be an absolutely original, primary, and free act. This act of antagonism, therefore, is an act of