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no idea of truth, whatever we may imagine. As all
our intuitions are, then, illusions, who knows whether the other half of our
life, in which we think we are awake, is not another sleep a little
different from the former, from which we awake when we suppose ourselves
asleep?
And who doubts that, if we dreamt in company, and the dreams chanced to
agree, which is common enough, and if we were always alone when awake, we
should believe that matters were reversed? In short, as we often dream that
we dream, heaping dream upon dream, may it not be that this half of our
life, wherein we think ourselves awake, is itself only a dream on which the
others are grafted, from which we wake at death, during which we have as few
principles of truth and good as during natural sleep, these different
thoughts which disturb us being perhaps only illusions like the flight of
time and the vain fancies of our dreams?
These are the chief arguments on one side and the other.
I omit minor ones, such as the sceptical talk against the impressions of
custom, education, manners, country and the like. Though these influence the
majority of common folk, who dogmatise only on shallow foundations, they are
upset by the least breath of the sceptics. We have only to see their books
if we ar
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