“It is probable that what we call thought is not an actual being, but no more than the relation between certain parts of that infinitely varied mass, of which the rest of the universe is composed, and which ceases to exist so soon as those parts change their position with regard to each other.  Thus color, and sound, and taste, and odor, exist only relatively.”

Even granted that mind or thought be a part of, or in fact, the soul, then he asks in what manner it could be made a proof of its imperishability, as all that we see or know perishes and is changed.

Here then comes the query, “Have we existed before birth?” A difficult possibility to conceive of individual intelligence and if unprovable against the theory of existence after death.

He then winds up the whole by thinking that it is impossible that,

     “we should continue to exist after death in some mode
     totally inconceivable to us at present.”

and that only those who desire to be persuaded are persuaded.

This is but a rough outline of some of the principal features of his considerations on soul immortality from a logical basis, and which, after all, only constitute an argument, to which, and the thoughts presented therein, he did not necessarily bind himself.  There can be little doubt, independently of what I have quoted, that he did not believe in a future state as popularly accepted.  Trelawney asked him on one occasion:  “Do you believe in the immortality of the spirit?” Shelley’s answer was unmistakable, “Certainly not; how can I?  We know nothing; we have no evidence."[B]

[Footnote B:  Those who desire to fully investigate Shelley’s ideas on the immortality of the soul, and the existence, or nature, of Deity, will be amply repaid by reading W.M.  Rossetti’s admirable memoir of the poet, appended to the last two-volume London edition of his works.]

When we take Shelley from a poetical standpoint, or with the divine truism implanted by the Ain-soph clamoring within to his intelligence for expression, how confident he appears of a hereafter, as in the “Adonais,” or in the following extract from an unpublished letter to his father-in-law, William Godwin, the property of my friend C.W.  Frederickson, of New York, one of the most enthusiastic admirers of Shelley, and who has been often known to pay more than the weight in gold for Shelleyana: 

“With how many garlands we can beautify the tomb.  If we begin betimes, we can learn to make the prospect of the grave the most seductive of human visions.  By little and little we hive therein all the most pleasing of our dreams.  Surely, if any spot in the world be sacred, it is that in which grief ceases, and for which, if the voice within our hearts mocks us not with an everlasting lie, we spring upon the untiring wings of a pangless and seraphic life—­those whom we love around us—­our nature, universal intelligence, our atmosphere, eternal love.”

How exquisite these remarks and his description of a disembodied spirit: