behind him. Add to the principle of love which
exists in the inferior animals, the faculty of reason
which exists in Man alone; will the conjunction of
these account for the desire? Doubtless it is
a necessary consequence of this conjunction; yet not
I think as a direct result, but only to be come at
through an intermediate thought, viz. that of
an intimation or assurance within us, that some part
of our nature is imperishable. At least the precedence,
in order of birth, of one feeling to the other, is
unquestionable. If we look back upon the days
of childhood, we shall find that the time is not in
remembrance when, with respect to our own individual
Being, the mind was without this assurance; whereas,
the wish to be remembered by our friends or kindred
after death, or even in absence, is, as we shall discover,
a sensation that does not form itself till the social
feelings have been developed, and the Reason has connected
itself with a wide range of objects. Forlorn,
and cut off from communication with the best part
of his nature, must that man be, who should derive
the sense of immortality, as it exists in the mind
of a child, from the same unthinking gaiety or liveliness
of animal spirits with which the lamb in the meadow,
or any other irrational creature is endowed; who should
ascribe it, in short, to blank ignorance in the child;
to an inability arising from the imperfect state of
his faculties to come, in any point of his being,
into contact with a notion of death; or to an unreflecting
acquiescence in what had been instilled into him!
Has such an unfolder of the mysteries of nature, though
he may have forgotten his former self, ever noticed
the early, obstinate, and unappeasable inquisitiveness
of children upon the subject of origination?
This single fact proves outwardly the monstrousness
of those suppositions: for, if we had no direct
external testimony that the minds of very young children
meditate feelingly upon death and immortality, these
inquiries, which we all know they are perpetually
making concerning the whence, do necessarily
include correspondent habits of interrogation concerning
the whither. Origin and tendency are notions
inseparably co-relative. Never did a child stand
by the side of a running stream, pondering within
himself what power was the feeder of the perpetual
current, from what never-wearied sources the body of
water was supplied, but he must have been inevitably
propelled to follow this question by another:
’Towards what abyss is it in progress? what
receptacle can contain the mighty influx?’ And
the spirit of the answer must have been, though the
word might be sea or ocean, accompanied perhaps with
an image gathered from a map, or from the real object
in nature—these might have been the letter,
but the spirit of the answer must have been
as inevitably,—a receptacle without
bounds or dimensions;—nothing less than
infinity. We may, then, be justified in asserting,