Man, feeling within himself a concealed power, which directed and produced, in an invisible manner, the movements of his frame, believed that nature, of whose motions and energy he was ignorant, owed her motions to an agent analogous to his soul. Looking upon himself as double, he likewise made her double, That agent, he regarded as the soul of the world; and the souls of men, as emanations from it. This opinion of the origin of souls is of vast antiquity. It was that of the Chaldeans, Egyptians, and Hebrews. Even Moses seems to hint at the idea: "And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living soul." But, in all this, it is said, there is little reason or philosophy, though there is, indeed, much profound and interested clerical policy. It was necessary to find out means to perpetuate a portion of man at his dissolution, to the end he might be rendered more susceptible of rewards and punishments; whence priests could intimidate, govern, and pillage the ignorant, and distract even the more enlightened, who, like the ignorant, could understand nothing of what was said to them of the soul, or of a Providence. But, is not this miserably to beg the question? All things are alike easy to be done by God. It is

not,

not, therefore, a right distinction, to define or distinguish any thing supernatural, by any absolute difficulty in the nature of the thing; as if the things we call natural, were absolutely, and in their own nature, easier to be effected, than those we look upon as supernatural. On the contrary, it is evident and undeniable, that it is at least as great an act of power to cause the sun and planets to move, as to cause the soul to exist in futurity. Yet this latter is called a miraculous interposition; the former not. And to restore the dead to life, is, in itself, plainly altogether as easy, as to dispose matter at first into such order, as to form a human body, in that which we call a natural way. So that absolutely speaking, in this strict and philosophical sense, either nothing is miraculous, namely, if we have respect to the power of God; or if we regard our own power and understanding, then almost every thing, as well what we call natural, as what we call supernatural, is in this sense really miraculous; and it is only usualness, or unusualness, that makes the distinction.*

Material substances multiply; spiritual do not: consequently, we may look with confidence to the immortality of the soul. For, as it is not material,

* Clarke.

material, it follows it is not formed of parts. That which has not parts, cannot be separated into parts; that which cannot be separated into parts, cannot be dissolved; and that which is incapable of dissolution, must be incorruptible and immortal. Accurately speaking, the material part of us is not annihilated at death. The different elements of which it was composed, remain in their integral state. Is it conformable to sound reason, then, to suppose the soul in a more limited condition than the body; that the immaterial substance perishes, but that the material elements remain? Philosophy of old was intended to instruct mankind; the philosophy of the present day tends to sap every foundation of sense and understanding. Philosophy of old wished to lead us to immortality; the philosophy of the present day, to positive annihilation. Is not the inverted ambition of that man beyond imagination, who can hope for destruction, and please himself to think his whole frame shall one day crumble into dust, and mix with the common mass of inanimate, unintelligent substances? How sordid the hope, that he shall not be immortal, because he does not endeavour to be so! How wretched the substitution of a dark negative happiness, in the extinction of his being !*

VOL. IV.

C

• Spectator.

No

No man ever wished to be totally extinguished in death, who had any concern about posthumous events. No man ever died in the cause of virtue and liberty, for the sake of truth, in defence of his country, or on account of posterity, who had not immortality in some sense or other before his eyes. "Nemo unquam sine magno spe immortalitatis se pro patria offerret ad mortem.' Read ancient history, consider the present times, look into the works of the learned, fix your eyes on all the greatest examples, on every the most conspicuous person, you will find all full of this spirit, and all arising from this original desire. Into how many thousand different forms of action does it not shoot! Consider how many different ways men have taken to preserve their memory when gone. Every one who has power, or genius, falls on some plan or other, to inform posterity that such a person once existed. "Et quatenus nobis denegatur diu vivere, relinquamus aliquid, quo nos vixisse testemur." Men survive themselves in brass and marble, in books, buildings, monuments, pictures, pillars, inscriptions, &c. Even those very persons who boast the happiness of being utterly cut off, shew themselves equally industrious with others. The atheist is thus formed in opposition to his own principles: he burns with a desire of everlasting praise,

praise, as well as of present admiration: he writes, disputes, propagates his doctrine; he cannot divest himself of the desire of existence. He, in a word, strives to build an immortal fame, on a material system, on a system of positive annihilation.*

The doctrine of the immortality of the soul, it is said, is not coeval with man. Whole nations have come down into the regions of true history, without having placed a tenet, so essential to religion, in their creed. Mankind in their rudest state, say they, scarce ever extend their ideas beyond the objects of sense. They perceive when death suspends the functions of the body, that the man ceases to act and to feel; and the subsequent dissolution of his whole frame establishes the supposition, that his being is at an end. Nature herself confirms the opinion, from every quarter, by symptoms of decay. The oak that has fallen by accident or age, resumes not its place on the mountain; and the flower that withers in autumn does not revive with the returning year. Philosophy only begins, where the first stage of society ends. As long as bodily labour is the only means of acquiring the necessaries of life, man has neither time nor inclination to cultivate the mind. Specula+ C 2 tive

• Matho.