Talkers Part 8

"Wherefore it is a wonder that any person of rank, any that hath in him a spark of ingenuity, or doth at all pretend to good manners, should find in his heart, or deign to comply with so scurvy a fashion; a fashion much more befitting the sc.u.m of the people than the flower of the gentry; yea, rather much below any man endued with a sc.r.a.p of reason, or a grain of goodness. Would we bethink ourselves, modest, sober, and pertinent discourse would appear far more generous and masculine than such mad hectoring the Almighty, such boisterous insulting over the received laws and general notions of mankind, such ruffianly swaggering against sobriety and goodness. If gentlemen would regard the virtues of their ancestors, the founders of their quality; that gallant courage, that solid wisdom, that n.o.ble courtesy which advanced their families, and severed them from the vulgar; this degenerate wantonness and sordidness of language would return to the dunghill, or rather, which G.o.d grant, be quite banished from the world."

4. _The positive scriptural commands against swearing._ "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy G.o.d in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh His name in vain." "Ye shall not swear by any name falsely, neither shalt thou profane the name of thy G.o.d: I am the Lord." The Christian Lawgiver thus utters His voice, "Ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths: but I say unto you, Swear not at all: neither by heaven, for it is G.o.d's throne: nor by the earth, for it is His footstool: neither by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black." St. James thus utters the inspiration of the Spirit: "But above all things, my brethren, swear not, neither by heaven, neither by the earth, neither by any other oath: but let your yea be yea, and your nay, nay: lest ye fall into condemnation."

It is the duty of all who reverence the name of G.o.d, and desire not sin upon their brother, to stand up in firm fidelity, to reprove and correct this evil as it may come before them. The following instances ill.u.s.trate how this may be done.

"My lads," said a shrewd captain, when reading his orders to the crew on the quarter-deck, to take command of the ship, "there is a favour which I ask of you, and which, as a British officer, I expect will be granted by a crew of British seamen; what say you lads, are you willing to grant your new captain, who promises to treat you well, one favour?"

"Hi, hi, sir," cried all hands, "please to let's know what it is, sir,"

said a rough-looking, hoa.r.s.e-voiced boatswain.

"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 G.o.d, 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-pa.s.senger 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 cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s 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 cla.s.s 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 circ.u.mstances 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 unG.o.dly 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 ill.u.s.tration 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 att.i.tude of their bodies, to strike the hearts of their beholders with new sense of their beauty. The dressing part of our s.e.x, 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 c.o.c.ked with an uncommon briskness, a very well-chosen coat, or other instances of merit, which they are impatient to see un.o.bserved.

"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 c.o.xcomb.

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 pa.s.sion 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 pract.i.tioner, 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 pa.s.sion 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."

X.

_THE STULTILOQUIST._

"Compress the sum into its solid worth, And if it weigh the importance of a fly, The scales are false, or algebra a lie."

COWPER.

This is a talker who seems to think that the best use of speech is to give currency to folly. He deals in thoughts and words which create laughter rather than convey instruction. The puns and witticisms of the shop, the street, the theatre, the newspaper, he reserves with sacredness for repet.i.tion in the social party, that he may excite the risible faculties, and give merriment to the circle. He appears to have no apprehension of anything that is serious and intelligent. The sum total of his conversation, weighed in the balance, is lighter than vanity. "The mouth of fools," says Solomon, "poureth out foolishness."

If he is not true to the character, he is to the sign. He forgets altogether that there is a time "to weep," and talks in strains which make one think that he believes there is only a time "to laugh." To laugh and to create laughter is the main business of his tongue in all company.