less than it was, and will certainly be finite; for whatever
is less than the infinite has a boundary or limit on the side where
one stops, and beyond which one might go. Now the number which is
finite as soon as one takes from it one single unit, could not be
infinite before that diminution; for an unit is certainly finite,
and a finite joined with another finite cannot make an infinite. If
a single unit added to a finite number made an infinite, it would
follow from thence that the finite would be almost equal to the
infinite; than which nothing can be more absurd. In the second
place, I may add an unit to that number given, and consequently
increase it. Now what may be increased is not infinite, for the
infinite can have no bound; and what is capable of augmentation is
bounded on the side a man stops, when he might go further and add
some units to it. It is plain, therefore, that no divisible
compound can be the true infinite.

This foundation being laid, all the romance of the Epicurean
philosophy disappears and vanishes out of sight in an instant.
There never can be any divisible body truly infinite in extent, nor
any number or any succession that is a true infinite. From hence it
follows that there never can be an infinite successive number of
combinations of atoms. If this chimerical infinite were real, I own
all possible and conceivable combinations of atoms would be found in
it; and that consequently all combinations that seem to require the
utmost industry would likewise be included in them. In such a case,
one might ascribe to mere chance the most marvellous performances of
art. If one should see palaces built according to the most perfect
rules of architecture, curious furniture, watches, clocks, and all
sort of machines the most compounded, in a desert island, he should
not be free reasonably to conclude that there have been men in that
island who made all those exquisite works. On the contrary, he
ought to say, "Perhaps one of the infinite combinations of atoms
which chance has successively made, has formed all these
compositions in this desert island without the help of any man's
art;" for such an assertion is a natural consequence of the
principles of the Epicureans. But the very absurdity of the
consequence serves to expose the extravagance of the principle they
lay down. When men, by the natural rectitude of their common sense,
conclude that such sort of works cannot result from chance, th