-
Upon Affectation
Lord
Chesterfield
Most people
complain of fortune, few of nature; and the kinder
they think the latter has been
to them,
the more they murmur at what they call the
injustice of the former.
Why
have
not
I
the
riches,
the
rank,
the
power,
of
such
and
such,
is
the
common
expostulation with
fortune; but why have not I the merit, the
talents, the wit, or the beauty of such
and such others, is a reproach rarely
or never made to nature.
The truth is, that nature, seldom
profuse, and seldom niggardly, has distributed her
gifts more
equally
than
she
is
generally
supposed
to
have
done.
Education
and
situation
make
the
great
difference. Culture improves, and
occasions elicit, natural talents. I make no doubt
but that there
are
potentially,
if
I
may
use
that
pedantic
word,
many
Bacons,
Lockes,
Newtons,
Caesars,
Cromwells, and
Marlboroughs, at the plough-tail, behind counters,
and, perhaps, even among the
nobility
but the soil must be cultivated, and the seasons
favourable, for the fruit to have all its
spirit and flavour.
If sometimes our common parent has been
a little partial, and not kept the scales quite
even
if one preponderates too much,
we throw into the lighter a due counterpoise of
vanity, which never
fails
to
set
all
right.
Hence it
happens,
that
hardly
any
one
man
would,
without
reserve,
and
in
every
particular, change with any other.
Though all are thus satisfied with the
dispensations of nature, how few listen to her
voice!
how few follow her as a guide!
In vain she points out to us the plain and direct
way to truth; vanity,
fancy,
affectation, and fashion, assume her shape, and
wind us through fairy-ground to folly and
error.
These
deviations
from
nature
are
often
attended
by
serious
consequences,
and
always
by
ridiculous
ones;
for
there
is
nothing
truer
than
the
trite
observation,
`
that
people
are
never
ridiculous for being
what they really are, but for affecting what they
really are not'. Affectation is
the
only source, and, at the same time, the only
justifiable object, of ridicule. No man
whatsoever,
be his pretensions what
they will, has a natural right to be ridiculous;
it is an acquired right, and
not to be
acquired without some industry; which perhaps is
the reason why so many people are so
jealous and tenacious of it. Even some
people's vices are not their own, but affected and
adopted,
though at the same time
unenjoyed, in hopes of shining in those
fashionable societies, where the
reputation of certain vices gives
lustre. In these cases, the execution is commonly
as awkward as
the design is absurd; and
the ridicule equals the guilt.
This calls to my mind a thing that
really happened not many years ago. A young fellow
of
some rank and fortune, just let
loose from the university, resolved, in order to
make a figure in the
world, to assume
the shining character of what he called a rake. By
way of learning the rudiments
of his
intended profession, he frequented the theatres,
where he was often drunk, and always noisy.
Being one night at the representation
of that most absurd play, the Libertine destroyed,
he was so
charmed with the profligacy
of the hero of the piece, that, to the edification
of the audience, he
swore many oaths
that he would be the libertine destroyed. A
discreet friend of his who sat by him,
kindly
represented
to
him,
that
to
be
the
libertine
was
a
laudable
design,
which
he
greatly
approved of; but that to be the
libertine destroyed, seemed to him an unnecessary
part of his plan,
and rather rash. He
persisted, however, in his first resolution, and
insisted upon being the libertine,
and
destroyed.
Probably
he
was
so;
at
least
the
presumption
is
in
his
favour.
There
are,
I
am