speak of it as an affectation, but apply to it some stronger term of opprobrium. Moreover, though we are accustomed to regard as affectations mere exaggerations in the expression of certain feelings, such as those we have been describing, we should sometimes speak of a wholly illusory profession of the same sentiment as insincere or false. If a lady is rather too voluble in the expression of her regrets, she is said to- be affected; if we have reason to believe that she feels no regret at all, we rather call her hypocritical. This shows that the term affectation, as applied to feeling, implies only a slight or harmless kind of simulation—a petty species of pretence which is rather comical from its patent hollowness, as well as from the silliness and vanity of its motive, than morally reprehensible. It is also worth noting, perhaps, that in the case of sentiment, as in that of mere external behaviour, we recognize such a thing as second nature—that is, a fixed habit of expressing a feeling on a certain occasion without any reflection at the moment. The rules of a rigid courtesy demand, for example, that we should always manifest a certain friendly interest in anything which our guest happens to be talking to us about; and so long as we do not exceed this quantity we are not likely to be accused of affectation. On the other hand, if we lay ourselves out to be specially sympathetic towards a person with whom we really have no particular interests in common, our conduct is rightly said to be affected; unless indeed it has some ulterior purpose besides that of simply making an impression on our guest's mind, in which case it will probably be characterized by some stronger epithet.
We may now pass to the second great region of affectation, that of literary and artistic style. When we accuse a writer of having an affected mannerism, we clearly liken him to those who show themselves affected in personal behaviour and in the profession of sentiment. The clearest case of affectation in art is where there is conscious imitation of another's manner. The usual form which this naturally takes is an attempt to array oneself in the fine plumage of more brilliant birds. The group of young aspirant poets and poetesses who uniformly follow in the wake of a leading popular poet, eagerly catching at all his peculiarities of manner, are rightly said to be affected. There is of course a vast deal of unconscious imitation of style in art, and it would be absurd to term every musician, for example, affected who instinctively follows some one model of style. Where the imitation is seen to arise from a natural affinity of mind, it is not said to be affected. Not only so, even conscious imitation of style does not always amount to affectation. It is unreasonable to expect that every writer should always abstain from introducing an echo of some previous master's melody. The field of perfect originality in art is not large enough to allow us to make such a demand. If only the selection of the particular model is seen to be made with an intelligent purpose, from a conviction that the manner selected is most suitable for the object in hand, it has nothing unseemly. In short, only such imitation of another's style is affected as is consciously executed, and, moreover, springs from mere mental impotence and a silly propensity to try to appear more than one really is. The style of a writer or a painter may, however, be affected without being imitative. Just as an original eccentricity of behaviour becomes affected as soon as it is studied, so oddities of artistic manner grow into affectations when consciously cultivated for their own sake, and without any reference to their fitness or utility. Hence it is sometimes permissible to call an eccentricity of literary manner affected after it has been distinctly brought before the author's notice by adverse criticisms, though before this it may have been a wholly unconscious habit of mind. Nobody, for instance, can doubt that some of the later uncouthnesses of Mr. Carlyle and Mr. Browning are correctly styled affectations. It is absurd to suppose that a writer can be wholly unconscious of mannerisms which have frequently been thrust as it were under his very eyes; and when one sees an author persevering in such eccentricities after these criticisms with rather more energy than before, and in cases where no other eye than his own, however kindly, can discover any advantage in their employment, it seems a fairly safe inference that the writer is obstinately affected. Yet it is no less clear that it is always more or less hazardous to predicate this quality of any man's style. For, after all, a man may bring himself to believe that his favourite mannerism is not only useful but essential to his art. In speaking, then, of artistic style as affected, we assume that the selection of all details of style should be a half-unconscious process guided only by the exigencies of the subject in hand. This idea is clearly indicated in the common expression "naturalness of style." A literary style is natural
