If animals are nothing but ingenious pieces of mechanism, argues the Jesuit father, then the feelings of a man towards his dog would not differ from those which he entertains towards his watch, and they would both inspire him with the same kind of affection. But such is not the case. Even the strictest Cartesian would never think of petting his chronometer as he pets his poodle, or would expect the former to respond to his caresses as the latter does. Practically he subverts his own metaphysical system by the distinction which he makes between them, treating one as a machine and the other as a sentient being, endowed with mental powers and passions corresponding, in some degree, to those which he himself possesses. We infer from our own individual consciousness that other persons, who act as we do, are free and intelligent agents, as we claim to be. The same reasoning applies to the lower animals, whose manifestations of joy, sorrow, hope, fear, desire, love, hatred and other emotions, akin to those passing in our own minds, prove that there is within them a spiritual principle, which does not differ essentially from the human soul. But this conclusion, he adds, is contrary to the teachings of the Christian religion, since it involves the immortality of animal souls and necessitates some provision for their reward or punishment in a future life. If they are capable of merits and demerits and can incur praise and blame, then they are worthy of retribution hereafter and there must be a heaven and a hell prepared for them, so that the pre-eminence of a man over a beast as an object of God’s mercy or wrath is lost. “Beasts, in that case, would be a species of man or men a species of beast, both of which propositions are incompatible with the teachings of religion.” The only means of reconciling these views, endowing animals with intellectual sense and immortal souls without running counter to Christian dogmas, is to assume that they are incarnations of evil spirits.