| But, secondly, it is equally obvious in this species of reasoning, that if the transference of the past to the future were founded merely on a conclusion of the understanding, it coued never occasion any belief or assurance. |
| When we transfer contrary experiments to the future, we can only repeat these contrary experiments with their particular proportions; which coued not produce assurance in any single event, upon which we reason, unless the fancy melted together all those images that concur, and extracted from them one single idea or image, which is intense and lively in proportion to the number of experiments from which it is derived, and their superiority above their antagonists. |
| Our past experience presents no determinate object; and as our belief, however faint, fixes itself on a determinate object, it is evident that the belief arises not merely from the transference of past to future, but from some operation of the fancy conjoined with it. |
| This may lead us to conceive the manner, in which that faculty enters into all our reasonings. |
| I shall conclude this subject with two reflections, which may deserve our attention. |
| The FIRST may be explained after this manner. |
| When the mind forms a reasoning concerning any matter of fact, which is only probable, it casts its eye backward upon past experience, and transferring it to the future, is presented with so many contrary views of its object, of which those that are of the same kind uniting together, and running into one act of the mind, serve to fortify and inliven it. |
| But suppose that this multitude of views or glimpses of an object proceeds not from experience, but from. |
| a voluntary act of the imagination; this effect does not follow, or at least, follows not in the same degree. |
| For though custom and education produce belief by such a repetition, as is not derived from experience, yet this requires a long tract of time, along with a very frequent and undesigned repetition. |
| In general we may pronounce, that a person who would voluntarily repeat any idea in his mind, though supported by one past experience, would be no more inclined to believe the existence of its object, than if he had contented himself with one survey of it. |
| Beside the effect of design; each act of the mind, being separate and independent, has a separate influence, and joins not its force with that of its fellows. |
| Not being united by any common object, producing them, they have no relation to each other; and consequently make no transition or union of forces. |
| This phaenomenon we shall understand better afterwards. |
| My second reflection is founded on those large probabilities, which the mind can judge of, and the minute differences it can observe betwixt them. |
| When the chances or experiments on one side amount to ten thousand, and on the other to ten thousand and one, the judgment gives the preference to the latter, upon account of that superiority; though it is plainly impossible for the mind to run over every particular view, and distinguish the superior vivacity of the image arising from the superior number, where the difference is so inconsiderable. |
| We have a parallel instance in the affections. |
| It is evident, according to the principles above-mentioned, that when an object produces any passion in us, which varies according to the different quantity of the object; I say, it is evident, that the passion, properly speaking, is not a simple emotion, but a compounded one, of a great number of weaker passions, derived from a view of each part of the object. |
| For otherwise it were impossible the passion should encrease by the encrease of these parts. |
| Thus a man, who desires a thousand pound, has in reality a thousand or more desires which uniting together, seem to make only one passion; though the composition evidently betrays itself upon every alteration of the object, by the preference he gives to the larger number, if superior only by an unite. |
| Yet nothing can be more certain, than that so small a difference would not be discernible in the passions, nor coued render them distinguishable from each other. |