"All affectation is vain and ridiculous; it is the attempt of
poverty to appear rich."--LAVATER.
This is a talker with whom one sometimes meets in society. He is not
generally very difficult to recognise. His physiognomy often indicates
the class to which he belongs. He has sometimes a peculiar formation of
mouth, which you may notice as the result of his affectation in
speaking. His voice, too, is frequently indicative of his fault. It is
pathetic, joyous, funereal, strong, weak, squeaking, not according to
its own naturalness, but according to the affectation of his mind. And
these variations are generally the opposite of what they ought to be.
They neither harmonise with the subject spoken of, nor the person
speaking.
Affectation is a fault which attaches itself to a certain class of
"young ladies and gentlemen" who have spent a few months in a village
academy or a city school, and wish to give to their friends and parents
unmistakeable evidence of their success in the acquisition of learning.
It also belongs to a limited class of young ladies who have advanced
somewhere the other side of thirty, and begin to stand in fear of a
_slip_. Their affectation, it is hoped, will be very winning upon the
affections of a peculiar sort of young gentlemen who have gone so far in
life that they are almost resolved to go all the way without any
companion to accompany them. It is a fault, too, which often clings to
another class of society,--that which, by a sudden elevation of fortune,
are raised from the walks of poverty into the ranks of the wealthy. The
elevation of their circumstances has not elevated their education, their
intelligence, their good manners. Nevertheless, they affect an equality
in these, and at the same time sadly betray the reality of their origin
and training.
This affectation in talk as well as in other ways mostly develops itself
in society which is supposed to be higher than the parties affected. The
ignorant talker is affected in the company of the intelligent; the
uneducated in the company of the educated; the poor in the company of
the rich; the young lady in the company of the one who is superior to
her, and into whose heart she wishes to distil a drop or two of Cupid's
elixir.
Not only, however, among these is the affected talker to be found. He is
sometimes met with in those who are supposed to have acquired such
attainments in self-knowledge and education as to lift them above this
objectionable habit. A clergyman of considerable popularity on a certain
occasion was observed to give utterance to his thoughts thus, "The
sufferings of the _poo-ah_ increase with the approach of _wint-ah_; and
the _glaurious gos-pill_ is the only _cu-ah_ of all the ills of
suffering _hoo-man-e-tee_." On another occasion, the same accomplished
minister was heard to address himself with much eloquence to the ungodly
portion of his congregation: "_O sin-nah_, the judgment is _ne-ah_; life
is but a _va-pah_. He that hath ears to _ye-ah_, let him _ye-ah_."
A person of respectable position and intelligence, addicted to this way
of speaking, in giving account of a visit he had recently made to a man
in dying circumstances, said, "When I _arrove_ at the house of my
_deseased_ friend, he was _perspiring_ his last. I stood by his bedside,
and said, as he was too far gone to speak, 'Brother, if you feel happy
now, _jist_ squeze my hand;' and he _squoze_ it."
But wherever and in whomsoever this fault is discernible, it is a
creature of ignorance and weakness. It is repulsive. It is simply
detestible; in some, more than in others. There is no fault so easily
discovered, and there is none so quickly denounced. The affected talker
is one of the most disagreeable talkers. If there is no moral defect in
him, yet there is want of good taste, want of propriety, want of respect
to the taste of others, violence offered to his own natural gifts and
acquired abilities. There is a degree of deception and imposture in the
action, if not in the motive and the result: an effort to produce an
impression contrary to the honest and natural state of the agent. But
it is rarely the effort succeeds in attaining its object. Mind is too
discerning, too apprehensive, too inquisitive, too susceptible, to allow
of imposition from such a source. There seems to be an instinct in human
nature to resist the influences coming from affectation. It almost
invariably fails to accomplish its end. There is no _innocent_ faulty
talker so little welcomed into company as the affected.
In illustration of this character still further the following is quoted
from the _Spectator_, No. 38:--
"A late conversation which I fell into, gave me an opportunity of
observing a great deal of beauty in a very handsome woman, and as much
wit in an ingenious man, turned into deformity in the one, and absurdity
in the other, by the mere force of affectation. The fair one had
something in her person (upon which her thoughts were fixed) that she
attempted to show to advantage, in every look, word, and gesture. The
gentleman was as diligent to do justice to his fine parts as the lady to
her beauteous form. You might see his imagination on the stretch to find
out something uncommon, and what they call bright, to entertain her,
while she writhed herself into as many different postures to engage him.
When she laughed, her lips were to sever at a greater distance than
ordinary, to show her teeth; her fan was to point to something at a
distance, that in the reach she may discover the roundness of her arm;
then she is utterly mistaken in what she saw, falls back, smiles at her
own folly, and is so wholly discomposed that her tucker is to be
adjusted, her bosom exposed, and the whole woman put into new airs and
graces. While she was doing all this, the gallant had time to think of
something very pleasing to say next to her, or to make some unkind
observation on some other lady to feed her vanity. These unhappy effects
of affectation naturally led me to look into that strange state of mind
which so generally discolours the behaviour of most people we meet
with."
"The learned Dr. Burnet, in his 'Theory of the Earth,' takes occasion to
observe that every thought is attended with a consciousness and
representativeness; the mind has nothing presented to it but what is
immediately followed by a reflection of conscience, which tells you
whether that which was so presented is graceful or unbecoming. This act
of the mind discovers itself in the gesture, by a proper behaviour in
those whose consciousness goes no farther than to direct them in the
just progress of their present state or action; but betrays an
interruption in every second thought, when the consciousness is employed
in too fondly approving a man's own conceptions; which sort of
consciousness is what we call affectation.
"As the love of praise is implanted in our bosoms as a strong incentive
to worthy actions, it is a very difficult task to get above a desire of
it for things that should be wholly indifferent. Women, whose hearts are
fixed upon the pleasure they have in the consciousness that they are the
objects of love and admiration, are ever changing the air of their
countenances, and altering the attitude of their bodies, to strike the
hearts of their beholders with new sense of their beauty. The dressing
part of our sex, whose minds are the same with the sillier part of the
other, are exactly in the like uneasy condition to be regarded for a
well-tied cravat, a hat cocked with an uncommon briskness, a very
well-chosen coat, or other instances of merit, which they are impatient
to see unobserved.
"This apparent affectation, arising from an ill-governed consciousness,
is not so much to be wondered at in such loose and trivial minds as
these; but when we see it reign in characters of worth and distinction,
it is what you cannot but lament, not without some indignation. It
creeps into the hearts of the wise man as well as that of the coxcomb.
When you see a man of sense look about for applause, and discover an
itching inclination to be commended; lay traps for a little incense,
even from those whose opinion he values in nothing but his own favour;
who is safe against this weakness? or who knows whether he is guilty of
it or not? The best way to get clear of such a light fondness for
applause is to take all possible care to throw off the love of it upon
occasions that are not in themselves laudable, but as it appears we hope
for no praise from them. Of this nature are all graces in men's persons,
dress, and bodily deportment, which will naturally be winning and
attractive if we think not of them, but lose their force in proportion
to our endeavour to make them such.
"When our consciousness turns upon the main design of life, and our
thoughts are employed upon the chief purpose either in business or
pleasure, we shall never betray an affectation, for we cannot be guilty
of it; but when we give the passion for praise an unbridled liberty, our
pleasure in little perfections robs us of what is due to us for great
virtues and worthy qualities. How many excellent speeches and honest
actions are lost for want of being indifferent when we ought! Men are
oppressed with regard to their way of speaking and acting, instead of
having their thoughts bent upon what they should do or say; and by that
means bury a capacity for great things. This, perhaps, cannot be called
affectation; but it has some tincture of it, at least, so far as that
their fear of erring in a thing of no consequence argues they would be
too much pleased in performing it.
"It is only from a thorough disregard to himself in such particulars
that a man can act with a laudable sufficiency; his heart is fixed upon
one point in view, and he commits no errors, because he thinks nothing
an error but what deviates from that intention.
"The wild havoc affectation makes in that part of the world which should
be most polite is visible wherever we turn our eyes: it pushes men not
only into impertinencies in conversation, but also in their premeditated
speeches. At the bar it torments the bench, whose business it is to cut
off all superfluities in what is spoken before it by the practitioner,
as well as several little pieces of injustice which arise from the law
itself. I have seen it make a man run from the purpose before a judge,
who was, when at the bar himself, so close and logical a pleader, that
with all the pomp of eloquence in his power, he never spoke a word too
much.
"It might be borne even here, but it often ascends the pulpit itself,
and the declaimer in that sacred place is frequently so impertinently
witty, speaks of the last day itself with so many quaint phrases, that
there is no man who understands raillery but must resolve to sin no
more. Nay, you may behold him sometimes in prayer, for a proper delivery
of the great truths he is to utter, humble himself with so very well
turned phrase, and mention his own unworthiness in a way so very
becoming, that the air of the pretty gentleman is preserved under the
lowliness of the preacher.
"I shall end this with a short letter I wrote the other day, to a very
witty man, overrun with the fault I am speaking of.
"DEAR SIR,--I spent some time with you the other day, and must take
the liberty of a friend to tell you of the insufferable affectation
you are guilty of in all you say and do. When I gave you a hint of
it, you asked me whether a man is to be cold to what his friends
think of him. No; but praise is not to be the entertainment of
every moment. He that hopes for it must be able to suspend the
possession of it till proper periods of life or death itself. If
you would not rather be commended than be praiseworthy, contemn
little merits, and allow no man to be so free with you as to praise
you to your face. Your vanity by this means will want its food. At
the same time your passion for esteem will be more fully gratified;
men will praise you in their actions: where you now receive one
compliment, you will then receive twenty civilities. Till then you
will never have of either, farther than,
"Sir, your humble servant,
"T."