Conceit of Man – Charles Spurgeon

A CERTAIN worthy of our acquaintance, being out of a situation, made application to a friend to recommend him to a place, and remarked, that he would prefer a somewhat superior position, “for you know, Tomkins,” said he, “I am not a fool, and I aren’t ignorant.” We would not insinuate that the brother was mistaken in his own estimate, but the remark might possibly excite suspicion, for the case is similar to that of a timid pedestrian at night alone, hurrying along a lonesome lane, when a gentleman comes out of the hedge just at the turning by Deadman’s Corner, and accosts him in the following reassuring language, “I aren’t a garrotter, and I never crack a fellow’s head with this here life-preserver.” The outspoken self-assertion of the brother quoted above, is but the expression of the thought of the most, if not all of us. “I am not a fool, and I aren’t ignorant,” is the almost universal self-compliment, which is never out of season; and this is the great barrier to our benefitting by good advice, which we suppose to be directed to the foolish and ignorant world in general, but not to our elevated selves. The poet did not say, but we will say it for him, “All men think all men faulty but themselves.” It would be a great gain to us all, if we had those elegant quizzing glasses of ours silvered at the back, so that the next time we stick them in our eyes, in all the foppery of our conceit, we may be edified, and, let us hope, humbled, by seeing ourselves.