Part 14

"Why, my lads," said the captain, "it is this: that you must allow ME to swear the first oath in this ship; this is a law which I cannot dispense with; I must insist upon it, I cannot be denied. No man on board must swear an oath before I do; I want to have the privilege of swearing the first oath on board H.M.S. C----. What say you, my lads, will you grant me this favour?"

The appeal seemed so reasonable, and the manner of the captain so kind and so prepossessing, that a general burst from the ship's company announced, "Hi, hi, sir," with their accustomed three cheers, when they left the quarter-deck. The effect was good, swearing was wholly abolished in the ship.

When the Rev. Rowland Hill was returning from Ireland, he found himself much annoyed by the reprobate conduct of the captain and mate, who were sadly given to the scandalous habit of swearing. First the captain swore at the mate, then the mate swore at the captain; then they both swore at the winds. Mr. Hill called to them for "fair play."

"Stop, stop," said he; "let us have fair play, gentlemen; it is my turn now."

"At what is it your turn?" asked the captain.

"At swearing," replied Mr. Hill.

Well, they waited and waited, until their patience was exhausted, and they wished Mr. Hill to make haste and take his turn. He told them, however, that he had a right to take his own time, and swear at his own convenience.

The captain replied with a laugh, "Perhaps you don't mean to take your turn!"

"Pardon me, captain," answered Mr. Hill, "I shall do so as soon as I can find the good of doing it."

Mr. Hill did not hear another oath on the voyage.

John Wesley was once travelling in a stage-coach with a young officer who was exceedingly profane, and who swore curses upon himself in almost every sentence. Mr. Wesley asked him if he had read the Common Prayer Book; for if he had, he might remember the collect beginning, "O God, Who art wont to give more than we are to pray, and art wont to give more than either we desire or deserve." The young man had the good sense to make the application, and swear no more during the journey.

On another occasion Mr. Wesley was travelling, when he had as a fellow-passenger one who was intelligent and very agreeable in conversation, with the exception of occasional swearing. When they changed coaches at a certain place, Mr. Wesley took the gentleman aside, and after expressing the general pleasure he had had in his company, said he had one favour to ask of him. He at once replied, "I will take great pleasure in obliging you, for I am sure you will not make an unreasonable request." "Then," said Mr. Wesley, "as we have to travel together some distance, I beg, if I should so far forget myself as to swear, you will kindly reprove me." The gentleman immediately saw the reason and force of the request, and smiling, said, "None but Mr. Wesley could have conceived a reproof in such a manner."

IX.

THE AFFECTED.

"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.