f a vain theology, which only consists in
repeating words without attaching any new ideas to them, and which
are insufficient to distinguish the soul from the body, which appear
only capable of multiplying beings without reason, of rendering more
incomprehensible and more obscure, notions less distinct than we
already have of ourselves. These notions should be at least the most
simple and the most exact, if we consult our nature, experience, and
reason. They prove that man knows nothing but by his material sensible
organs, that he sees only by his eyes, that he feels by his touch,
that he hears by his ears; and that when either of these organs is
actually deranged, or has been previously wanting, or imperfect, man
can have none of the ideas that organ is capable of furnishing him
with,--neither thoughts, memory, reflection, judgment, desire, nor
will. Experience shows us that corporeal and material beings are alone
capable of being moved and acted upon, and that without those organs
we have enumerated the soul thinks not, feels not, wills not, nor is
moved. Every thing shows us that the soul undergoes always the same
vicissitudes as the body; it grows to maturity, gains strength,
becomes weak, and puts on old age, like the body; in fine, every thing
we can understand of it goes to prove that it perishes with the body.
It is indeed folly to pretend that man will feel when he has no organs
appropriate for that sentiment; that he will see and hear without eyes
or ears; that he will have ideas without having senses to receive
impressions from physical objects, or to give rise to perceptions in
his understanding; in fine, that he will enjoy or suffer when he has
no longer either nerves or sensibility.

Thus every thing conspires to prove that the soul is the same thing as
the body, viewed relatively to some of its functions, which are more
obscure than others. Every thing serves to convince us that without
the body the soul is nothing, and that all the operations which are
attributed to the soul cannot be exercised any longer when the body is
destroyed. Our body is a machine, which, so long as we live, is
susceptible of producing the effects which have been designated under
different names, one from another; sentiment is one of these effects,
thought is another, reflection a third. This last passes sometimes by
other names, and our brain appears to be the seat of all our organs;
it is that which is the most susceptible. This