And
Nathan said to David, Thou art the man.
These
words are the application of Nathan's parable to David, upon occasion of his
adultery with Bathsheba, and the murder of Uriah her husband. The parable, which
is related in the most beautiful simplicity, is this (1):
"There were two men in one city ; the one rich, the other poor. The rich man had
exceeding many flocks and herds; but the poor man had nothing, save one little
ewe lamb, which he had bought and nourished up: and it grew up together with
him, and with his children; it did eat of his own meat; and drank of his own
cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. And there came a
traveller unto the rich man, and be spared to take of his own flock, and of his
own herd, to dress for the way-faring man that was come unto him, but took the
poor man's lamb, and dressed it for the man that was come to him. And David's
anger was greatly kindled against
the man, and he said to Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done this
thing shall surely die. And he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did
this thing, and because he had no pity." David passes sentence, not only that
there should be a fourfold restitution made, but he proceeds to the rigor of
justice, "The man that hath done this thing shall die:" and this judgment is
pronounced with the utmost indignation against such an act of inhumanity: "As
the Lord liveth, he shall surely die: and his anger was greatly kindled against
the man." And the prophet answered, "Thou art the man." He had been guilty of
much greater inhumanity, with the utmost deliberation, thought, and contrivance.
Near a year must have passed, between the time of the commission of his crimes
and the time of the prophet's coming to him; and it does not appear from the
story, that he had in all this while the least remorse or
contrition.
There is not any thing, relating to men and characters, more surprising
and unaccountable than this partiality to themselves, which is observable in
many; as there is nothing of more melancholy reflection, respecting morality,
virtue, and religion. Hence it is that many men seem perfect strangers to their
own characters. They think, and reason, and judge quite differently upon any
matter relating to themselves, from what they do in cases of others where they
are not interested. Hence it is one hears people exposing follies, which they
themselves are eminent for; and talking with great severity against particular
vices, which, if all the world be not mistaken, they themselves are notoriously
guilty of. This self-ignorance and self-partiality may be in all different
degrees. It is a lower degree of it, which David himself refers to in these
words, "Who can tell how oft he offendeth: O cleanse thou me from my secret
faults." This is the ground of that advice of Elihu to Job: "Surely it is meet
to be said unto God, - That which I see not, teach thou me; if I have done
iniquity, I will do no more." And Solomon saw this thing in a very strong light
when he said, "He that trusteth his own heart is a fool." This likewise was the
reason why that precept, " Know thyself," was so frequently inculcated by the
philosophers of old. For if it was not for that partial and fond regard to
ourselves, it would certainly be no great difficulty to know our own character,
what passes within the bent and bias of our mind; much less would there be any
difficulty in judging rightly of our own actions. But from this partiality it
frequently comes to pass, that the observation of many men's being themselves
last of all acquainted with what falls out in their own families, may be applied
to a nearer home, to what passes within their own breasts.
There
is plainly, in the generality of mankind, an absence of doubt or distrust, in a
very great measure, as to their moral character and behaviour; and likewise a
disposition to take for granted, that all is right and well with them in these
respects. The former is owing to their not reflecting, not exercising their
judgment upon themselves; the latter, to self-love. I am not speaking of that
extravagance, which is sometimes to be met with; instances of persons declaring
in words at length, that they never were in the wrong, nor had ever any
diffidence of the justness of their conduct, in their whole lives: no, these
people are too far gone to have any thing said to them. The thing before us is
indeed of this kind, but in a lower degree, and confined to the moral character;
somewhat of which we almost all of us have, without reflecting upon it. Now,
consider how long, and how grossly, a person of the best understanding might be
imposed upon by one of whom he had not any suspicion, and in whom he placed an
entire confidence; especially if there were friendship and real kindness in the
case: surely this holds even stronger with respect to that self we are all so
fond of. Hence arises in men a disregard of reproof and instruction, rules of
conduct and moral discipline, which occasionally come in their way: a disregard,
I say, of these, not in every respect, but in this single one, namely, as what
may be of service to them in particular towards mending their own hearts and
tempers, and making them better men. It never in earnest comes into their
thoughts, whether such admonitions may not relate, and be of service to
themselves; and this quite distinct from a positive persuasion to the contrary,
a persuasion from reflection that they are innocent and blameless in those
respects. Thus we may invert the observation which is somewhere made upon
Brutus, that he never read but in order to make himself a better man. It scarce
comes into the thoughts of the generality of mankind that this use is to be made
of moral reflections which they meet with; that this use, I say, is to be made
of them by themselves, for every body observes and wonders that it is not done
by others.
Further,
there are instances of persons having so fixed and steady an eye upon their own
interest, whatever they place it in, and the interest of those whom they
consider as themselves, as in a manner to regard nothing else; their views are
almost confined to this alone. Now, we cannot be acquainted with, or in any
propriety of speech be said to know any thing but what we attend to. If,
therefore, they attend only to one side, they really will not, cannot see or
know what is to be alleged on the other. Though a man hath the best eyes in the
world, he cannot see any way but that which he turns them. Thus these persons,
without passing over the least, the most minute thing which can possibly be
urged in favor of themselves, shall overlook entirely the plainest and most
obvious things on the other side. And whilst they are under the power of this
temper, thought, and consideration upon the matter before them, has scarce any
tendency to set them right; because they are engaged; and their deliberation
concerning an action to be done, or reflection upon it afterwards, is not to see
whether it be right, but to find out reasons to justify or palliate it; palliate
it, not to others, but to themselves.
In
some there is to be observed a general ignorance of themselves, and wrong way of
thinking and judging in every thing relating to themselves; their fortune,
reputation, every thing in which self can come in; and this perhaps attended
with the rightest judgment in all other matters. In others, this partiality is
not so general, has not taken hold of the whole man, but confined to
some
particular
favorite passion, interest, pursuit: suppose ambition, covetousness, or any
other. And these persons may probably judge and determine what is perfectly just
and proper, even in things in which they themselves are concerned, if these
things have no relation to their particular favorite passion or pursuit. Hence
arises that amazing incongruity; and seeming inconsistency of character, from
whence slight observers take it for granted, that the whole is hypocritical and
false; not being able otherwise to reconcile the several parts: whereas, in
truth, there is real honesty, so far as it goes. There is such a thing as men's
being honest to such a degree, and in such respects, but no further. And this,
as it is true, so it is absolutely necessary to be taken notice of, and allowed
them; such general and undistinguishing censure of their whole character, as
designing and false, being one main thing which confirms them in their
self-deceit. They know that the whole censure is not true, and so take it for
granted that no part of it is.
But
to go on with the explanation of the thing itself: Vice in general consists in
having an unreasonable and too great regard to ourselves, in comparison of
others. Robbery and murder is never from the love of injustice or cruelty, but
to gratify some other passion, to gain some supposed advantage: and it is false
selfishness alone, whether cool or passionate, which makes a man resolutely
pursue that end, be it ever so much to the injury of another. But whereas, in
common and ordinary wickedness, this unreasonableness, this partiality and
selfishness, relates only, or chiefly, to the temper and passions; in the
characters we are now considering, it reaches to the understanding, and
influences the very judgment (2).
And, besides that general want of distrust and diffidence concerning our own
character, there are, you see, two things, which may thus prejudice and darken
the understanding itself: that over-fondness for ourselves, which we are all so
liable to; and also being under the power of any particular passion or appetite,
or engaged in any particular pursuit. And these, especially the last of the two,
may be in so great a degree as to influence our judgment, even of other persons
and their behaviour. Thus a man, whose temper is formed to ambition or
covetousness, shall even approve of them sometimes in
others.
This
seems to be in a good measure the account of self-partiality and self-deceit,
when traced up to its original. Whether it be, or be not, thought satisfactory,
that there is such a thing is manifest; and that it is the occasion of great
part of the unreasonable behaviour of men towards each other: that by means of
it they palliate their vices and follies to themselves: and that it prevents
their applying to themselves those reproofs and instructions, which they meet
with either in Scripture or in moral and religious discourses, though exactly
suitable to the state of their own mind, and the course of their behaviour.
There is one thing further to be added here, that the temper we distinguish by
hardness of heart with respect to others, joined with this self-partiality, will
carry
a
man almost any lengths of wickedness, in the way of oppression, hard usage of
others; and even to plain injustice, without his having, from what appears, any
real sense at all of it. This indeed was not the general character of David; for
he plainly gave scope to the affections of compassion and good will, as well as
to his passions of another kind.
But
as some occasions and circumstances lie more open to this self-deceit, and give
it greater scope and opportunities than others, these require to be particularly
mentioned.
It
is to be observed then, that as there are express determinate acts of
wickedness, such as murder, adultery, theft; so, on the other hand, there are
numberless cases in which the vice and wickedness cannot be exactly defined, but
consists ill a certain general temper and course of action, or in the neglect of
some duty, suppose charity or any other, whose bounds and degrees are not fixed.
This is the very province of self-deceit and self-partiality: Here it governs
without check or control. "For what commandment is there broken? Is there a
transgression where there is no law? A vice which cannot be
defined?"
Whoever
will consider the whole commerce of human life will see, that a great part,
perhaps the greatest part, of the intercourse amongst mankind, cannot be reduced
to fixed determinate rules. Yet in these cases, there is a right and a wrong: a
merciful, a liberal, a kind and compassionate behaviour, which surely is our
duty; and an unmerciful contracted spirit, a hard and oppressive course of
behaviour, which is most certainly immoral and vicious. But who can define
precisely wherein that contracted spirit and hard usage of others consist, as
murder and theft may be defined? There is not a word in our language which
expresses more detestable wickedness than oppression: yet the nature of
this vice cannot be so exactly stated, nor the bounds of it so, determinately
marked, as that we shall be able to say, in all instances, where rigid right and
justice ends, and oppression begins. In these cases, there is great latitude
left for everyone to determine for, and consequently to deceive himself. It is
chiefly in these cases, that self. deceit comes in; as everyone must see, that
there is much larger scope for it here, than in express, single, determinate
acts of wickedness. However it comes in with respect to the circumstances
attending the most gross and determinate acts of wickedness. Of this, the story
of David, now before us, affords the most astonishing instance. It is really
prodigious, to see a man, before so remarkable for virtue and piety, going on
deliberately from adultery to murder, with the same cool contrivance, and, from
what appears, with as little disturbance, as a man would endeavor to prevent the
ill consequences of a mistake he had made in any common matter. That total
insensibility of mind, with respect to those horrid crimes, after the commission
of them, manifestly shows that he did some way or other delude himself: and this
could not be with respect to the crimes themselves, they were so manifestly of
the grossest kind. What the particular circumstances were, with which he
extenuated them, and quieted and deceived himself, is not
related.
Having
thus explained the nature of internal hypocrisy and self-deceit, and remarked
the occasions upon which it exerts itself, there are several things further to
be observed concerning it: that all of the sources to which it was traced up,
are sometimes observable together in one and the same person; but that one of
them is more remarkable, and to a higher degree, in some, and others of them are
so in others: that, in general, it is a complicated thing, and may be in all
different degrees and kinds: that the temper itself is essentially in its own
nature vicious and immoral. It is unfairness, it is dishonesty, it is falseness
of heart; arid is, therefore, so far from extenuating guilt, that it is itself
the greatest of all guilt in proportion to the degree it prevails; for it is a
corruption of the whole moral character in its principle. Our understanding, and sense of good and
evil, is the light and guide of life: "If, therefore, this light that is in thee
be darkness, how great is that darkness? (3)" For this reason our Saviour puts an evil
eye as the direct opposite to a single eye; the absence of that simplicity,
which these last words imply, being itself evil and vicious. And whilst men are
under the power of this temper, in proportion still to the degree they are so,
they are fortified on every side against conviction: and when they hear the vice
and folly of what is in truth their own course of life, exposed in the justest
and strongest manner, they will often assent to it, and even carry the matter
further; persuading themselves, one does not know bow, but some way or other
persuading themselves, that they are out of the case, and that it hath no
relation to them. Yet, notwithstanding this, there frequently appears a
suspicion, that all is not right, as it should be; and perhaps there is always
at bottom somewhat of this sort. There are doubtless many instances of the
ambitious, the revengeful, the covetous, and those whom, with too great
indulgence, we only call the men of pleasure, who will not allow themselves to
think how guilty they are, who explain and argue away their guilt to themselves;
and though they do really impose upon themselves, in some measure, yet there are
none of them but have, if not a proper knowledge, yet at least an implicit
suspicion, where the weakness lies, and what part of their behaviour they have
reason to wish unknown or forgotten for ever. Truth, and real good sense, and
thorough integrity, carry along with them a peculiar consciousness of their own.
genuineness: there is a feeling belonging to them, which does not accompany
their counterfeits, error, folly, half-honesty, partial and slight regards to
virtue and right, so far only as they are consistent with that course of
gratification which men happen to beset upon. And, if this be the case, it is
much the same as if we should suppose a man to have had a general view of some
scene, enough to satisfy him that it was very disagreeable, and then to shut his
eyes, that he might not have particular or distinct view of its several
deformities. It is as easy to close
the eyes of the mind as those of the body: and the former is more frequently
done with wilfulness, and yet not attended to, than tile latter; the actions of
the mind being more quick and transient than those of the senses. This may be
further illustrated by another thing observable in ordinary life. It is not
uncommon for persons, who run out their fortunes, entirely to neglect looking
into the state of their affairs, and this from a general knowledge that the
condition of them is bad. These extravagant people are perpetually ruined before
they themselves expected it: and they tell you for an excuse, and tell you
truly, that they did not think they were so much in debt, or that their expenses
so far exceeded their income. And yet no one will take this for an excuse, who
is sensible that their ignorance of their particular circumstances was owing to
their general knowledge of them; that is, their general knowledge that matters
were not well with them, prevented their looking into particulars. There is
somewhat of the like kind with this in respect to morals, virtue, and
religion. Men find that the survey
of themselves, their own heart and temper, their own life and behaviour, doth
not afford them satisfaction; things are not as they should be, therefore they
turn away, will not go over particulars, or look deeper, lest they should find
more amiss. For who would choose to be put out of humor with himself? No one,
surely, if it were not in order to amend, and to be more thoroughly and better
pleased with himself for the future.
If
this sincere self-enjoyment and home-satisfaction be thought desirable, and
worth some pains and diligence, the following reflections will, I suppose,
deserve your attention; as what may be of service and assistance to all who are
in any measure honestly disposed, for
avoiding
that fatal self-deceit, and towards getting acquainted with
themselves.
The first is, that those who have never had any suspicion of, who have
never made allowances for this weakness in themselves, who have never (if I may
be allowed such a manner of speaking) caught themselves in it, may almost take
it for granted that they have been very much misled by it. For consider: nothing is more manifest,
than that affection and passion of all kinds influence the judgment. Now. as we have naturally a greater
regard to ourselves than to others, as the private affection is more prevalent
than the public, the former will have proportionally a greater influence upon
the judgment, upon our way of considering things. People are not backward in owning this
partiality of judgment, in cases of friendship and natural relation. The reason is obvious why it is not so
readily acknowledged, when the interest that misleads us is more confined,
confined to ourselves: but we all take notice of it in each other in these
cases. There is not any observation
more common, than that there is no judging of a matter from hearing only one
side. This is not founded upon
supposition, at least it is not always, of a formed design in the realter to
deceive: for it holds in cases where he expects that the whole will be told over
again by the other side. But the
supposition, which this observation is founded upon, is the very thing now
before us; namely, that men are exceedingly prone to deceive themselves, and
judge too favorably in every respect, where themselves, and their own interest,
are concerned. Thus, though we have
not the least reason to suspect that such an interested person hath any
intention to deceive us, yet we of course make great allowances for his having
deceived himself. If this be
general, almost universal, it is prodigious that every man can think himself an
exception, and that he is free from this self-partiality. The direct contrary is the truth. Every man may take for granted that he
has a great deal of it, till, from the strictest observation upon himself, he
finds particular reason to think otherwise.
Secondly,
there is one easy and almost sure way to avoid being misled by this
self-partiality, and to get acquainted with our real. character: to have regard
to the suspicious part of it, and keep a steady eye over ourselves in that
respect. Suppose then a man fully
satisfied with himself, and his own behaviour. such a one, if you please, as the
Pharisee in the gospel, or a better man - Well, but allowing this good opinion
you have of yourself to be true, yet everyone is liable to be misrepresented.
Suppose then an enemy were to set about defaming you, what part of your
character would he single out? What particular scandal, think you, would he be
most likely to fix upon you? And what would the world be most ready to believe?
There is scarce a man living but could, from the most transient superficial view
of himself, answer this question. What is that ill thing, that faulty behaviour,
which I am apprehensive an enemy, who was thoroughly acquainted with me, would
be most likely to lay to my charge, and which the world would be most apt to
believe? It is indeed possible that a man may not be guilty in that respect. All
that I say is, let him in plainness and honesty fix upon that part of his
character for a particular survey and reflection; and by this he will come to be
acquainted, whether he be guilty or innocent in that respect, and how far he is
one or the other.
Thirdly,
It would very much prevent our being misled by this self-partiality, to reduce,
that practical rule of our Saviour, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to
you, even so do unto them," to our judgment and way of thinking. This rule, you
see, consists of two parts. One is, to substitute another for yourself, when you
take a survey of any part of your behaviour, or consider what is proper and fit
and reasonable for you to do upon any occasion: the other part is, that you
substitute yourself in the room of another; consider yourself as the person
affected by such a behaviour, or towards whom such an action is done; and then
you would not only see, but likewise feel, the reasonableness, or
unreasonableness of such an action or behaviour. But, alas! the rule itself may
be dishonestly applied: there are persons who have not impartiality enough with
respect to themselves, nor regard enough for others, to be able to make a just
application of it. This just application, if men would honestly make it, is, in
effect, all that I have been recommending: it is the whole thing, the direct
contrary to that inward dishonesty as respecting our intercourse with our
fellow-creatures. And even the bearing this rule in their thoughts may be of
some service: the attempt thus to apply it, is an attempt towards being fair and
impartial, and may chance unawares to show them to themselves, to show them the
truth of the case they are considering.
Upon
the whole it is manifest, that there is such a thing as this self-partiality and
self-deceit: that in some persons it is to a degree which would be thought
incredible, were not the instances before our eyes; of which the behaviour of
David is perhaps the highest possible one, in a single particular case; for
there is not the least appearance, that it reached his general character: that
we are almost all of us influenced by it in some degree, and in some respects:
that, therefore, everyone ought to have an eye to, and beware of it. And all
that I have further to add upon this subject is, that either there is a
difference between right and wrong, or there is not: religion is true, or it is
not. If it be not, there is no reason for any concern about it: but if it be
true, it requires real fairness of mind and honesty of heart. And if people will
be wicked, they had better of the two be so from the common vicious passions
without such refinements, than from this deep and calm source of delusion; which
undermines the whole principle of good; darkens that light, that "candle of the
Lord within," which is to direct our steps; and corrupts conscience, which is
the guide of life.
1 Verse 1.
2 That peculiar regard for ourselves
which frequently produces this partiality of judgment in our own favor, may have
a quite contrary effect, and occasion the utmost diffidence and distrust of
ourselves; were it only, as it may set us upon a more frequent and strict survey
and review of our own character and behaviour. This search or recollection
itself implies somewhat of diffidence; and the discoveries we make, what is
brought to our view, may possibly increase it. Good will to another may either
blind our judgment, so as to make us overlook his faults; or it may put us upon
exercising that judgment with greater strictness, to see whether he is so
faultless and perfect as we wish him. If that peculiar regard to ourselves leads
us to examine our own character with this greater severity, in order really to
improve and grow better, it is the most commendable turn of mind possible, and
can scarce be to excess. But if, as every thing hath its counterfeit, we are so
much employed about ourselves, in order to disguise what is amiss, and to make a
better appearance; or if our attention to ourselves has chiefly this effect, it
is liable to run up into the greatest weakness and excess, and is, like all
other excesses, its own disappointment; for scarce any show themselves to
advantage, who are over solicitous of doing so.
3 Matt. vi.
23.