least mischievous; which, since the moralists have not given it a name,
I shall distinguish as the _lie of vanity_.

To vanity may justly be imputed most of the falsehoods which every man
perceives hourly playing upon his ear, and, perhaps, most of those that
are propagated with success. To the lie of commerce, and the lie of
malice, the motive is so apparent, that they are seldom negligently or
implicitly received; suspicion is always watchful over the practices of
interest; and whatever the hope of gain, or desire of mischief, can
prompt one man to assert, another is by reasons equally cogent incited
to refute. But vanity pleases herself with such slight gratifications,
and looks forward to pleasure so remotely consequential, that her
practices raise no alarm, and her stratagems are not easily discovered.

Vanity is, indeed, often suffered to pass unpursued by suspicion,
because he that would watch her motions, can never be at rest: fraud and
malice are bounded in their influence; some opportunity of time and
place is necessary to their agency; but scarce any man is abstracted one
moment from his vanity; and he, to whom truth affords no gratifications,
is generally inclined to seek them in falsehoods.

It is remarked by Sir Kenelm Digby, "that every man has a desire to
appear superior to others, though it were only in having seen what they
have not seen." Such an accidental advantage, since it neither implies
merit, nor confers dignity, one would think should not be desired so
much as to be counterfeited: yet even this vanity, trifling as it is,
produces innumerable narratives, all equally false; but more or less
credible in proportion to the skill or confidence of the relater. How
many may a man of diffusive conversation count among his acquaintances,
whose lives have been signalized by numberless escapes; who never cross