their union would be, not a mystery, but a thing impossible.  Besides, this soul, being of an essence different from that of the body, ought to act necessarily in a different way from it.  However, we see that the movements of the body are felt by this pretended soul, and that these two substances, so different in essence, always act in harmony.  You will tell us that this harmony is a mystery; and I will tell you that I do not see my soul, that I know and feel but my body; that it is my body which feels, which reflects, which judges, which suffers, and which enjoys, and that all of its faculties are the necessary results of its own mechanism or of its organization.

CI.—­THE EXISTENCE OF A SOUL IS AN ABSURD SUPPOSITION, AND THE EXISTENCE OF AN IMMORTAL SOUL IS A STILL MORE ABSURD SUPPOSITION.

Although it is impossible for men to have the least idea of the soul, or of this pretended spirit which animates them, they persuade themselves, however, that this unknown soul is exempt from death; everything proves to them that they feel, think, acquire ideas, enjoy or suffer, but by the means of the senses or of the material organs of the body.  Even admitting the existence of this soul, one can not refuse to recognize that it depends wholly on the body, and suffers conjointly with it all the vicissitudes which it experiences itself; and however it is imagined that it has by its nature nothing analogous with it; it is pretended that it can act and feel without the assistance of this body; that deprived of this body and robbed of its senses, this soul will be able to live, to enjoy, to suffer, be sensitive of enjoyment or of rigorous torments.  Upon such a tissue of conjectural absurdities the wonderful opinion of the immortality of the soul is built.

If I ask what ground we have for supposing that the soul is immortal:  they reply, it is because man by his nature desires to be immortal, or to live forever.  But I rejoin, if you desire anything very much, is it sufficient to conclude that this desire will be fulfilled?  By what strange logic do they decide that a thing can not fail to happen because they ardently desire it to happen?  Man’s childish desires of the imagination, are they the measure of reality?  Impious people, you say, deprived of the flattering hopes of another life, desire to be annihilated.  Well, have they not just as much right to conclude by this desire that they will be annihilated, as you to conclude that you will exist forever because you desire it?

CII.—­IT IS EVIDENT THAT THE WHOLE OF MAN DIES.

Man dies entirely.  Nothing is more evident to him who is not delirious.  The human body, after death, is but a mass, incapable of producing any movements the union of which constitutes life.  We no longer see circulation, respiration, digestion, speech, or reflection.  It is claimed then that the soul has separated itself from the body.  But to say that this soul, which is unknown, is the principle of life, is saying nothing, unless that an unknown force is the invisible principle of imperceptible movements.  Nothing is more natural and more simple than to believe that the dead man lives no more, nothing more absurd than to believe that the dead man is still living.