bounded capacity for knowledge. There is perhaps no one who does not, at times, feel that this fact alone is a sufficient reason for belief in the doctrine. When he considers the narrow sphere of his own immediate knowledge, and the vast unknown by which he is everywhere surrounded, when he reflects upon the nature, origin, and destinies of his being, when he contemplates the wonderful displays of power, wisdom, and goodness that are seen in every part of the material universe, and thinks of the greatness of that almighty Being of whose glorious perfections these visible and tangible forms are but the hidings, when the desire to look into the impenetrable mysteries which lie above, beneath, and around him, has acquired all the strength of a passion, so that he would fain give up his present existence and close his eyes forever upon all material things for one glance into the spirit-world, then he feels the full force of the argument; then the hope of immortality, for a time, burns brightly within him; for he thinks it impossible that an infinitely wise and good Being should have endowed his soul with capacities for no object, and awakened within it desires never to be satisfied. When, however, other subjects have, at length, engaged his attention, and this exaltation of intellect and feeling has passed away, he finds the strength of his convictions materially abated; and when, further, he considers how many of the powers and faculties connected with his bodily organization and designed to fit him for the duties of his present existence, are never fully employed, and how few of the hopes and expectations that are continually arising in this life are ever realized, he comes finally to doubt whether the argument should be regarded as having any bearing upon the question at issue.

But whatever difficulty there may be in determining the precise weight due to the consideration of the soul's unlimited desires and capabilities, there can be no doubt that it is justly entitled to a place among the proofs of a future life. Its proper place, however, we think is only a subordinate one. It should be employed as a corroborative, and not as a leading proof. Taken by itself, it has little or no weight. Every power of the human mind finds, in this life, the necessary objects and scope for its full exercise; and although God holds himself responsible for the truth of our rational and our moral perceptions, he has in no manner guaranteed to us the gratification of our desires, especially when directed to objects beyond the reach of our faculties. Viewed as an independent argument, moreover, its force is greatly weakened, if not wholly destroyed, by the consideration that were the same reasoning to be employed with reference to the expectations of this life, it would inevitably lead to false conclusions; for here, as all must admit, what we really do, is very far from being in proportion to

1849.]

Examination of Socrates' Arguments.

55

our ability; and what we actually attain is still further from equalling our desires. But if the probability of a future life of progress in knowledge and virtue, can be established on other grounds, then the natural qualifications of the soul for such progress, not only remove all inherent objections which may be supposed to lie against the doctrine, but become a source of important corroborative proof. In this humbler capacity of mere subsidiary evidence, we shall find occasion for making use of the argument in a more advanced part of our essay.

The second argument, derived from the law of contraries, so obviously rests upon an imaginary basis, that it scarcely requires notice. There is, in truth, no such law as the one supposed. It does not hold, even of the few cases adduced to illustrate it, although differing essentially from that to which it is applied. Sleep does not always beget vigilance, or vigilance sleep. Strength does not always end in weakness, or weakness in strength. Beauty does not always terminate in ugliness, or ugliness in beauty. Right does not spring from wrong, or wrong grow out of right. Within the earth's shadow, darkness never changes into light. Beyond the reach of the solar beam, cold never gives place to heat. It is not easy to understand how examples such as these should have seemed to afford proof of a future life; and yet we find the argument pressed with an earnestness which could only arise from a conviction of its importance.

The third argument, drawn from the reminiscences of a previous existence, which the soul brings with it into the present life, rests, like the preceding one, upon a foundation purely imaginary. As presented bythe author, it owes all its plausibility to an ingenious confounding of the suggestions of reason with those of memory, which, though arising in a somewhat similar manner, are nevertheless, in their nature and origin, essentially different. This mode of arguing the probability of a future life seems to have been suggested by the doctrine of metempsychosis, which Plato received from the Pythagoreans, and which was brought by them from the banks of the Nile. Believing that every human soul had occupied, in succession, many different bodies previous to the commencement of its present life, he would naturally seek for the evidences of this in impressions, which might be left upon the memory; and what so easy to be mistaken for such impressions, by one looking for them, as those subtle ideas which spring immediately from our rational natures-of which we find ourselves already in possession, but which we cannot trace to any outward source. Detached from its connection with the Egyptian doctrine, and adorned by the imagery and clothed in the language of poetry, the original idea of the

Grecian philosopher has furnished the basis for one of the most beautiful conceptions to be found in modern verse.

"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;

The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar;

Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home."

The fourth reason assigned for believing in the continued existence of the soul after death, is its indivisibility. This seems to have been a favorite ground of argument with nearly all those who have written upon the subject. Cicero adopts it, and bishop Butler, in his profound treatise on the Analogy of Natural and Revealed Religion to the Constitution and Course of Nature, makes use of it. And yet we think it quite as difficult, nay, far more difficult of proof, than the conclusion which they have drawn from it. We believe, as we have endeavored to show in a former Article, that all analogy is opposed to the idea of the unity or simplicity of the soul, while we think there are many and important facts which clearly and unequivocally point to its continued existence after the dissolution of the body. Plato endeavors to make good his premises by removing the soul from the class of things to that of mere abstract conceptions, such as the ideas of truth, beauty, justice, and equality, which, having no real existence, are incapable of undergoing change. Bishop Butler seeks to do the same by an argument drawn from the phenomena of consciousness, first proposed, we believe, by Dr. Clark, and about as conclusive as another remarkable argument of that distinguished metaphysician and divine, in which he proves the existence and attributes of Deity from the necessary ideas of infinite duration and space. Cicero does not attempt to prove the simplicity of the living agent, but affirms it to be a truth so clear that, "nisi plane in physicis plumbei sumus," we cannot doubt it.

But, even admitting the premises upon which this argument rests, the conclusion by no means follows. Were the oneness and indivisibility of the human soul to be demonstrated, that fact alone would not prove its immortality. It would indeed be incapable, on such a supposition, of undergoing dissolution; but what, we ask, even in that case, should prevent its annihilation? Having accomplished the objects for which it was created, through the instrumentality of the body, why

1849.]

Proof from the Vitality of the Soul.

57

should it be continued in existence after the destruction of that body?

The fifth and last consideration urged in proof of a future life, viz. that of the essential and necessary vitality of the soul, viewed merely as an explanation or illustration, is both striking and beautiful. As an argument, however, it has no weight. It in fact begs the entire question. To say that the soul is essentially vital, is the same thing as to say that it cannot die; and nothing beyond this can be intended even by those who affirm its immortality in the strongest sense which that word can express. Nay, most persons would be satisfied with much less than this; their ideas of the nature and destinies of the human soul only requiring that its existence should be continued through the will and power of God, and not from any absolute and inherent necessity growing out of its constitution. The argument of the great master, rendered into the syllogism of his illustrious disciple, stands thus: whatever is inherently and essentially vital cannot die; the soul is inherently and essentially vital; therefore the soul cannot die. The major premise, though in form regular, is in reality defective. It does not express the result of any inductive process, nor does it affirm either an intuitive or demonstrative truth. It is simply an identical proposition, and, as such, cannot be made the ground of any legitimate deduction. The minor premise, however, contains within itself all that is necessary to the argument, and would, alone, be sufficient to justify the conclusion, could its truth be, in any manner, demonstrated. But unfortunately this, in our present state of knowledge, is impossible. The supposed analogy between the soul and heat, or between the soul and any other principle or agent with which we are acquainted, is altogether too remote and shadowy to be of any avail towards such a demonstration.

From the foregoing examination it appears that of all the arguments made use of in the Phaedo of Plato for establishing the probability of a future life, only one can be regarded as having any real bearing upon the subject; and even this, as we have seen, is fitted, in its character, to be employed rather in corroboration of other and stronger evidence, than as a separate and independent proof. Taken by itself, it must be admitted to have but little weight. How then, we may ask, did these arguments produce so much effect upon the mind of Socrates? How were they able to inspire in him so strong a conviction, so lively a hope of immortality? In seeking for an answer to this question, it should be remembered that several of the considerations adduced, although they have no importance in our eyes, had much in his. This is especially true of the numerous class of ideas which we find in

the mind, but cannot trace to an origin in the senses. These, to us, prove nothing. They are the spontaneous suggestions of the mind itself. To him, however, they proved much. They were the reminiscences of a former life. They furnished incontestible evidence that the soul had somewhere had an existence previous to the commencement of its present life; and why should it not continue to exist after the termination of that life? The second and fourth arguments, also, derived plausibility at least, if not weight, from that doctrine of the Platonic philosophy which resolved all essences into certain mathematical types and forms, and thus led to the confounding, as we have seen in these arguments, of real existences with mere abstract ideas and conceptions.

We

For a full solution of the problem, however, we think it is necessary to look further than this. We do not believe that the hope of a future life, in the mind of either Plato or Socrates, in reality sprang from the considerations with which, in the Phaedo, we find it connected. believe that, on the contrary, it had its origin in the intuitions of their moral natures, coupled with that instinctive desire of immortality, which may indeed be weakened by a life of sensuality, or even extinguished altogether by the consciousness of ill desert and the dread of apprehended punishment, but which is always strong in the minds of great and good men. Springing from this source, the faith grew up within them, nourished and strengthened continually by high aspirations, by pure thoughts, and by noble deeds, until at length it acquired the fixed and permanent character of an original principle of belief. For what we have been long accustomed to regard as true, becomes to us as real and seems as natural as if it were a part of the visible constitution of nature. Indeed, the word natural, as applied to the phenomena of the external world, has quite as much reference to our habits of conception as to anything in the phenomena themselves. Had they been different, or had the order of their succession been different, they would have seemed to us as natural as they do now. These argu

ments, therefore, of Plato and Socrates were not, as we think, the real ground of their faith, but only reasons invented by them for justifying a belief which they found already existing, and which they desired to support and strengthen.

In following the history of this question, the treatise which next attracts our attention is that of Cicero, "the best or second orator that to the memory of man is known." It was written between three and four centuries after the Phaedo of Plato, and only about fifty years previous to the appearance in our world of Him who, by a divine revelation, brought life and immortality to light. It is not an original work,