to take, nor at all waver in his assent.  Lastly, when there can be no supposition (the thing in its own nature indifferent, and wholly depending upon the testimony of witnesses) that there is as fair testimony against, as for the matter of fact attested; which by inquiry is to be learned, v.g. whether there was one thousand seven hundred years ago such a man at Rome as Julius Caesar:  in all such cases, I say, I think it is not in any rational man’s power to refuse his assent; but that it necessarily follows, and closes with such probabilities.  In other less clear cases, I think it is in man’s power to suspend his assent; and perhaps content himself with the proofs he has, if they favour the opinion that suits with his inclination or interest, and so stop from further search.  But that a man should afford his assent to that side on which the less probability appears to him, seems to me utterly impracticable, and as impossible as it is to believe the same thing probable and improbable at the same time.

16.  Where it is in our Power to suspend our Judgment.

As knowledge is no more arbitrary than perception; so, I think, assent is no more in our power than knowledge.  When the agreement of any two ideas appears to our minds, whether immediately or by the assistance of reason, I can no more refuse to perceive, no more avoid knowing it, than I can avoid seeing those objects which I turn my eyes to, and look on in daylight; and what upon full examination I find the most probable, I cannot deny my assent to.  But, though we cannot hinder our knowledge, where the agreement is once perceived; nor our assent, where the probability manifestly appears upon due consideration of all the measures of it:  yet we can hinder both knowledge and assent, by stopping our inquiry, and not employing our faculties in the search of any truth.  If it were not so, ignorance, error, or infidelity, could not in any case be a fault.  Thus, in some cases we can prevent or suspend our assent:  but can a man versed in modern or ancient history doubt whether there is such a place as Rome, or whether there was such a man as Julius Caesar?  Indeed, there are millions of truths that a man is not, or may not think himself concerned to know; as whether our king Richard the Third was crooked or no; or whether Roger Bacon was a mathematician or a magician.  In these and such like cases, where the assent one way or other is of no importance to the interest of any one; no action, no concernment of his following or depending thereon, there it is not strange that the mind should give itself up to the common opinion, or render itself to the first comer.  These and the like opinions are of so little weight and moment, that, like motes in the sun, their tendencies are very rarely taken notice of.  They are there, as it were, by chance, and the mind lets them float at liberty.  But where the mind judges that the proposition has concernment in it: