a we interest the fancy, and
produce, though in a lesser degree, the same pleasure, which arises from
a moderate passion. As the vivacity of the idea gives pleasure, so its
certainty prevents uneasiness, by fixing one particular idea in the
mind, and keeping it from wavering in the choice of its objects. It is a
quality of human nature, which is conspicuous on many occasions, and is
common both to the mind and body, that too sudden and violent a change
is unpleasant to us, and that however any objects may in themselves be
indifferent, yet their alteration gives uneasiness. As it is the nature
of doubt to cause a variation in the thought, and transport us suddenly
from one idea to another, it must of consequence be the occasion of
pain. This pain chiefly takes place, where interest, relation, or the
greatness and novelty of any event interests us in it. It is not every
matter of fact, of which we have a curiosity to be informed; neither are
they such only as we have an interest to know. It is sufficient if the
idea strikes on us with such force, and concerns us so nearly, as to
give us an uneasiness in its instability and inconstancy. A stranger,
when he arrives first at any town, may be entirely indifferent about
knowing the history and adventures of the inhabitants; but as he becomes
farther acquainted with them, and has lived any considerable time among
them, he acquires the same curiosity as the natives. When we are reading
the history of a nation, we may have an ardent desire of clearing up
any doubt or difficulty, that occurs in it; but become careless in such
researches, when the ideas of these events are, in a great measure,
obliterated.

BOOK III OF MORALS

PART I OF VIRTUE AND VICE IN GENERAL

SECT. I MORAL DISTINCTIONS NOT DERIVed FROM REASON

There is an inconvenience which attends all abstruse reasoning that
it may silence, without convincing an antagonist, and requires the
same intense study to make us sensible of its force, that was at first
requisite for its invention. When we leave our closet, and engage in
the common affairs of life, its conclusions seem to vanish, like the
phantoms of the night on the appearance of the morning; and it is
difficult for us to retain even that conviction, which we had attained
with difficulty. This is still more conspicuous in a long chain of
reasoning, where we must preserve to the end the evidence of the first
propositions, and where we oft