"Selfishness is that detestable vice which no one will forgive in others, and no one is without himself"
About this Quote
Beecher lands the punch by making selfishness both unforgivable and unavoidable, a moral double bind tailored to a churchgoing public that liked its sins safely located in other people. The line is engineered to sting: “detestable vice” cues righteous disgust, then the sentence pivots into a mirror. No one forgives it in others because selfishness, unlike lust or drink, shows up as a direct threat to our status and comfort. It’s the sin you can feel happening to you: someone cuts the line, hoards the credit, protects their own. Beecher understands the psychology before the term existed; resentment is often just wounded self-interest in moral costume.
The second clause is the real trapdoor. “And no one is without himself” refuses the pleasant fantasy that virtue is a permanent identity. Beecher’s clerical move isn’t merely to condemn; it’s to level. If everyone carries the vice, then moral judgment becomes precarious, and self-examination becomes the only safe posture. That’s Protestant rhetoric doing its finest work: pushing the listener from policing neighbors to auditing the self.
Context matters. Beecher preached in a 19th-century America loud with reform movements and public piety, where moral language doubled as social authority. This aphorism quietly undercuts sanctimony without abandoning standards. It preserves the category of “vice” while warning that the urge to punish it may be one of its most common disguises.
The second clause is the real trapdoor. “And no one is without himself” refuses the pleasant fantasy that virtue is a permanent identity. Beecher’s clerical move isn’t merely to condemn; it’s to level. If everyone carries the vice, then moral judgment becomes precarious, and self-examination becomes the only safe posture. That’s Protestant rhetoric doing its finest work: pushing the listener from policing neighbors to auditing the self.
Context matters. Beecher preached in a 19th-century America loud with reform movements and public piety, where moral language doubled as social authority. This aphorism quietly undercuts sanctimony without abandoning standards. It preserves the category of “vice” while warning that the urge to punish it may be one of its most common disguises.
Quote Details
| Topic | Ethics & Morality |
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