238 A HISTORY OF 



dreadful," say some, " since it is sufficient to separate the soul from 

 the body ; it must be long, since our sufferings are proportioned to the 

 succession of our ideas; and these being painful, must succeed each 

 other with extreme rapidity." In this manner has false philosophy 

 laboured to augment the miseries of our nature; and to aggravate that 

 period, which Nature has kindly covered with insensibility. Neither 

 the mind nor the body can suffer these calamities ; the mind is at that 

 time mostly without ideas, and the body too much enfeebled, to be 

 capable of perceiving its pain. A very acute pain produces either 

 death, or fainting, which is a state similar to death : the body can suf- 

 fer but to a certain degree ; if the torture becomes excessive, it de- 

 stroys itself; and the mind ceases to perceive, when the body can no 

 longer endure. 



In this manner excessive pain admits of no reflection ; and wherever 

 there are any signs of it, we may be sure that the sufferings of the 

 patient are no greater than what we ourselves may have remembered 

 to endure. 



But, in the article of death, we have many instances in which the 

 dying person has shown that very reflection which presupposes an ab- 

 sence of the greatest pain, and consequently that pang which ends life, 

 cannot even be so great as those which have preceded. Thus, when 

 Charles XII. was shot at the siege of Frederickshaldt, he was seen to 

 clap his hand on the hilt of his sword ; and although the blow was 

 great enough to terminate one of the boldest and bravest lives in the 

 world, yet it was not painful enough to destroy reflection. He per 

 ceived himself attacked ; he reflected that he ought to defend himself, 

 and his body obeyed the impulse of his mind, even in the last extre- 

 mity. Thus it is the prejudice of persons in health, and not the body 

 in pain, that makes us suffer from the approach of death : we have all 

 our lives contracted a habit of making out excessive pleasures and 

 pains ; and nothing but repeated experience shows us how seldom the 

 one can be suffered, or the other enjoyed, to the utmost. 



If there be any thing necessary to confirm what we have said con- 

 cerning the gradual cessation of life, or the insensible approaches of 

 our end, nothing can more effectually prove it, than the uncertainty of 

 the signs of death. If we consult what Winslow or Bruhier have said 

 upon this subject, we shall be convinced, that between life and death, 

 the shade is so very undislinguishable, that even all the powers of art 

 can scarcely determine where the one ends, and the other begins. 

 The colour of the visage, the warmth of the body, the suppleness of 

 the joints, are but uncertain signs of life still subsisting ; while, on the 

 contrary, the paleness of the complexion, the coldness of the body, 

 the stiffness of the extremities, the cessation of all motion, and the 

 total insensibility of the parts, are but uncertain marks of death be- 

 gun. In the same manner, also, with regard to the pulse and the 

 breathing, these motions are often so kept under, that it is impossible 

 to perceive them. By approaching a looking-glass to the mouth ol 

 the person supposed to be dead, people often expect to find whether 

 he breathes or not. But this is a very uncertain experiment ; the 

 glass is frequently sullied by the vapour of the dead man's body, and 

 >ften the person is still alive, although the glass is no way tarnisned In 



