ds of one of the
characters in the old drama are strictly true:

"I am a nobler substance than the stars,
Or are they better since they are bigger?
I have a will and faculties of choice,
To do or not to do; and reason why
I do or not do this: the stars have none.
They know not why they shine, more than this taper,
Nor how they, work, nor what."[2]

But this characteristic of a rational being, though thus distinctive and
common to every man that lives, is exceedingly marvellous. Like the air
we breathe, like the light we see, it involves a mystery that no man has
ever solved. Self-consciousness has been the problem and the thorn of the
philosophic mind in all ages; and the mystery is not yet unravelled. Is
not that a wonderful process by which a man knows, not some other thing
but, _himself_? Is not that a strange act by which he, for a time,
duplicates his own unity, and sets himself to look at himself? All other
acts of consciousness are comparatively plain and explicable. When we
look at an object other than ourselves,--when we behold a tree or the
sky,--the act of knowledge is much more simple and easy to be explained.
For then there is something outside of us, and in front of us, and
another thing than we are, at which we look, and which we behold. But in
this act of _self_-inspection there is no second thing, external, and
extant to us, which we contemplate. That which is seen is one and the
same identical object with that which sees. The act of knowledge which in
all other instances requires the existence of two things,--a thing to be
known and a thing to know,--in this instance is performed with only one.
It is the individual soul that sees, and it is that very same individual
soul that is seen. It is the individual man that knows, and it is that
very identical man that is known. The eyeball looks at the eyeball.

And when this power of self-inspection is connected with the power of
memory, the mystery of human existence becomes yet more complicated, and
its explanation still more baffling. Is it not exceedingly wonderful,
that we are able to re-exhibit our own thoughts and feelings; that we can
call back what has gone clear by in our experience, and steadily look at
it once more? Is it not a mystery that we can summon before our mind's
eye feelings, purposes, desires, and thoughts, which occurred in the soul
long years ago, and which, perhaps, until this moment, we have not
thought of for yea