KNOWLEDGE OF ONE'S SELF.

HYPOCRISY, at the fashionable end of the town,

is very different from hypocrify in the city. The modifh hypocrite endeavours to appear more vicious than he really is; the other kind of hypocrite more virtuous. The former is afraid of every thing that has the fhew of religion in it, and would be thought engaged in many criminal gallantries and amours, which he is not guilty of. The latter affumes a face of fanctity, and covers a multitude of vices under a feeming religious deportment.

But there is another kind of hypocrify, which dif fers from both these, and which I intend to make the fubject of this paper: I mean that hypocrify, by which a man does not only deceive the world, but very often imposes on himfelf: That hypocrify which conceals his own heart from him, and makes him believe he is more virtuous than he really is, and either not attend to his vices, or mistake even his vices for virtues. It is this fatal hypocrify and felf-deceit, which is taken notice of in these words, who can underftand his errors? Cleanse thou me from fecret faults.

If the open profeflors of impiety deferve the ut moft application and endeavours of moral writers to recover them from vice and folly, how much more may they lay a claim to their care and compaffion, who are walking in the paths of death, while they fancy themselves engaged in a courfe of virtue! I fhall endeavour therefore, to lay down fome rules for the difcovery of thofe vices that lurk in the fecret cor ners of the foul, and to fhew my reader those methods by which he may arrive at a true and impartial knowledge of himself. The ufual means prefcribed for this purpose, are to examine ourselves by the rules which are laid down for our direction in facred writ, and to compare our lives with the life of that perfon, who acted up to the perfection of human nature, and is the ftanding example, as well as the great guide and inftructor, of thofe who receive his doctrines. Though thefe two heads cannot be too much infifted upon,

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fhall but just mention them, fince they have been handled by many great and eminent writers.

I would therefore propofe the following methods to the confideration of such as would find out their fecret faults, and make a true estimate of themselves.

In the first place, let them confider well what are the characters which they bear among their enemies. Our friends very often fatter us, as much as our own hearts. They either do not fee our faults or conceal them from us, or foften them by their reprefentations, after such a manner, that we think them too trivial to be taken notice of. An adversary, on the contrary, makes ftricter fearch into us, difcovers every flaw and imperfection in our tempers, and though his malice may fet them in too ftrong a light, it has generally fome ground for what it advances. A friend exaggerates a man's virtues; an enemy inflames his crimes. A wife man fhould give a juft attention to both of them, fo far as they may tend to the improvement of one, and the diminution of the other. Plutarch has written an effay on the benefits which a man may receive from his enemies, and, among the good fruits of enmity, mentions this in particular, that by the reproaches which it cafts upon us we fee the worst fide of ourselves, and open our eyes to feveral. blemishes and defects in our lives and conversations, which we should not have observed, without the help of fuch ill-natured monitors.

In order likewife to come at a true knowledge of ourselves, we should confider on the other hand how far we may deferve the praises and approbations which the world beftows upon us; whether the actions they celebrate proceed from laudable and worthy motives; and how far we are really poffeffed of the virtues which gain us applause among those with whom we converfe. Such a reflection is abfolutely neceffary, if we confider how apt we are either to value or condemn ourselves by the opinions of others,. and to facrifice the report of our own hearts to the judgment of the world..

In the next place, that we may not deceive our

felves in a point of fo much importance, we fhould not lay too great a ftrefs on any fuppofed virtues we poffefs that are of a doubtful nature: And fuch we may efteem all thofe in which multitudes of men diffent from us, who are as good and wife as ourselves. We should always act with great cautioufnefs and circumfpection in points, where it is not impoffible that we may be deceived. Intemperate zeal, bigotry and perfecution for any party or opinion, how praiseworthy foever they may appear to weak men of our own principles, produce infinite calamities among mankind, and are highly criminal in their own nature; and yet how many perfons, eminent for piety, fuffer fuch monftrous and abfurd principles of action to take root in their minds under the colour of vir tues? For my part I must own, I never knew any party fo juft and reasonable, that a man could follow it in its height and violence, and at the fame time be innocent.

We fhould likewise be very apprehenfive of those actions which proceed from natural conftitution, favourite paffions, particular education, or whatever promotes our worldly intereft or advantage. In these and the like cafes, a man's judgment is eafily per verted, and a wrong bias hung upon his mind. These are the inlets of prejudice, the unguarded avenues of the mind, by which a thousand errors and fe cret faults find admiffion, without being obferved or taken notice of. A wife man will fufpect thofe actions to which he is directed by fomething befides reafon, and always apprehend fome concealed evil in every refolution that is of a disputable nature, when it is conformable to his particular temper, his age, or way of life, or when it favours his pleasure or his profit.

There is nothing of greater importance to us than thus diligently to fift our thoughts, and examine all thefe dark receffes of the mind, if we would establish our fouls in fuch a folid and fubftantial virtue as will turn to account in that great day, when it must stand the teft of infinite wisdom and justice..

الدم

I fhall conclude this effay with obferving, that the two kinds of hypocrify I have here fpoken of, namely, that of deceiving the world, and that of impofing on ourfelves, are touched with wonderful beauty in the hundred and thirty-ninth Pfalm. The folly of the first kind of hypocrify is there fet forth by reflections on God's omnifcience and omniprefence, which are celebrated in as noble ftrains of poetry as any other I ever met with, either facred or profane. The other kind of hypocrify, whereby a man deceives himself, is intimated in the two last verses, where the Pfalmift addreffes himfelf to the great Searcher of hearts in that emphatical petition-Try me, O God, and feek the ground of my heart; prove me, and examine my thoughts. Look well if there be any way of wickedness in me, and lead me in the -way everlasting.-L.

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SIR,

SPECTATOR, Vol. VI. No. 399.

LETTERS ON VARIOUS OCCASIONS.

AM one of thofe unhappy men who are plagued with a gofpel goffip, fo common among diffenters (efpecially friends.) Lectures in the morning, church meetings at noon, and preparation fermons at night, take up fo much of her time, its very rare fhe knows what we have for dinner, unless when the preacher is to be at it. With him come a tribe, all brothers and fifters it seems; while others, really fuch, are deemed no relations. If at any time I have her company alone, she is a mere fermon pop-gun, repeating and discharging texts, proofs, and applications fo perpetually, that however weary may go to bed, the noise

in

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my head will not let me fleep till towards morning. The mifery of my cafe, and great numbers of fuch fufferers, plead your pity and fpeedy relief, otherwife muft expect in a little time, to be lectured, preached, and prayed into want, unless the happiness of being fooner talked to death prevent it."

I am, &c. R. G. SPECTATOR, Vol. I. No. 46.

To Colonel R- -S in SPAIN.

«BEFORE this can reach the best of husbands and

the fondeft lover, those tender names will be no more of concern to me. The indifpofition in which you, to obey the dictates of your honour and duty, left me, has increased upon me; and I am acquainted by my phyficians that I cannot live a month longer. At this time my fpirits fail me ; and it is the ardent love I have for you that carries me beyond my ftrength, and enables me to tell you, the most painful thing in the profpect of death, is, that I must part with you. But let it be a comfort to you, that I have no guilt hangs upon me, no unrepented folly that retards me; but I pafs away my laft hours in reflection upon the happiness we have lived in together, and in forrow that it is fo foon to have an end. This is a frailty which I hope is fo far from criminal, that methinks there is a kind of piety in being fo unwilling to be feparated from a ftate which is the inftitution of Heaven, and in which we have lived according to its laws. As we know no more of the next life, but that it will be an happy one to the good, and miferable to the wicked, why may we not please ourselves at least to alleviate the difficulty of refigning this being, in imagining that we fhall have a fenfe of what pafles below, and may poffibly be employed in guiding the fteps of thofe with whom we walked with innocence when mortal? Why may not I hope to go on in my ufual work, and though unknown to you, be affiftant in all the conflicts of your mind? Give me leave to fay to you, O beft of men, that I cannot figure to myfelf a greater happiness than in fuch an employment: To be prefent at all the adventures to which human life is exposed, to administer flumber to thy eyelids in the agonies of a fever, to cover thy beloved face in the day of battle, to go with thee a guardian angel, incapable of wound or pain, where I have longed to attend thee when a weak, a fearful woman: Thefe, my dear, are the thoughts with which I warm my poor languid heart; but indeed I am not capable under my prefent weakness, of bearing