On the subject of Consciousness, Mr Mill has cited from Sir W. Hamilton other good observations besides the one last alluded to; but, unfortunately, these are often neutralized by opposite or inconsistent opinions also cited from other parts of his works.  The number of such inconsistencies produced is indeed one remarkable feature in Sir W. Hamilton’s philosophical character.  He seems to follow out energetically (as Plato in his various dialogues) the vein of thought pervading his mind at each particular moment, without troubling himself to look back upon his own prior speculations.  Even compared with the best views of Sir W. Hamilton, however, Mr Mill’s mode of handling the subject of Consciousness exhibits signal improvement.  To some of his observations we shall call particular attention.

All philosophers agree that what Consciousness testifies is to be believed; but they differ much on the question—­To what points Consciousness does testify? and even on the still deeper question—­How shall we proceed to ascertain what are these attested points?  What is the proper method of studying or interrogating Consciousness?  Upon this Mr Mill remarks (pp. 145—­147):—­

’Here emerges the distinction between two different methods of studying the problems of metaphysics; forming the radical difference between the two great schools into which metaphysicians are divided.  One of these I shall call for distinction, the introspective method; the other, the psychological.  M. Cousin observes that Locke went wrong from the beginning, by placing before himself, as the question to be first resolved, the origin of our ideas.  This (he says) was commencing at the wrong end.  The proper course would have been to begin by determining what the ideas now are; to ascertain what it is that Consciousness now tells us; postponing till afterwards the attempt to frame a theory concerning the origin of any of the mental phenomena.

’I accept the question as M. Cousin states it; and I contend that no attempt to determine what are the direct revelations of Consciousness can be successful, or entitled to any regard, unless preceded by what M. Cousin says ought only to follow it—­an inquiry into the origin of our acquired ideas.  For we have it not in our power to ascertain, by any direct process, what Consciousness told us at the time when its revelations were in their pristine purity.  It only offers itself to our inspection, as it exists now, when those original revelations are overlaid and buried under a mountainous heap of acquired notions and perceptions.

’It seems to M. Cousin, that if we examine with care and minuteness our present states of Consciousness, distinguishing and defining every ingredient which we find to enter into them—­every element that we seem to recognize as real, and cannot “by merely concentrating our attention upon it analyze into anything simpler—­we