WE found ourself seated at a small dinner party the other day, opposite a
stranger of such singular appearance and manner, that he irresistibly
attracted our attention.
This was a fresh-coloured young gentleman, with as good a promise of
light whisker as one might wish to see, and possessed of a very
velvet-like, soft-looking countenance. We do not use the latter term
invidiously, but merely to denote a pair of smooth, plump,
highly-coloured cheeks of capacious dimensions, and a mouth rather
remarkable for the fresh hue of the lips than for any marked or striking
expression it presented. His whole face was suffused with a crimson
blush, and bore that downcast, timid, retiring look, which betokens a man
ill at ease with himself.
There was nothing in these symptoms to attract more than a passing
remark, but our attention had been originally drawn to the bashful young
gentleman, on his first appearance in the drawing-room above-stairs, into
which he was no sooner introduced, than making his way towards us who
were standing in a window, and wholly neglecting several persons who
warmly accosted him, he seized our hand with visible emotion, and pressed
it with a convulsive grasp for a good couple of minutes, after which he
dived in a nervous manner across the room, oversetting in his way a fine
little girl of six years and a quarter old—and shrouding himself behind
some hangings, was seen no more, until the eagle eye of the hostess
detecting him in his concealment, on the announcement of dinner, he was
requested to pair off with a lively single lady, of two or three and
thirty.
This most flattering salutation from a perfect stranger, would have
gratified us not a little as a token of his having held us in high
respect, and for that reason been desirous of our acquaintance, if we had
not suspected from the first, that the young gentleman, in making a
desperate effort to get through the ceremony of introduction, had, in the
bewilderment of his ideas, shaken hands with us at random. This
impression was fully confirmed by the subsequent behaviour of the bashful
young gentleman in question, which we noted particularly, with the view
of ascertaining whether we were right in our conjecture.
The young gentleman seated himself at table with evident misgivings, and
turning sharp round to pay attention to some observation of his
loquacious neighbour, overset his bread. There was nothing very bad in
this, and if he had had the presence of mind to let it go, and say
nothing about it, nobody but the man who had laid the cloth would have
been a bit the wiser; but the young gentleman in various semi-successful
attempts to prevent its fall, played with it a little, as gentlemen in
the streets may be seen to do with their hats on a windy day, and then
giving the roll a smart rap in his anxiety to catch it, knocked it with
great adroitness into a tureen of white soup at some distance, to the
unspeakable terror and disturbance of a very amiable bald gentleman, who
was dispensing the contents. We thought the bashful young gentleman
would have gone off in an apoplectic fit, consequent upon the violent
rush of blood to his face at the occurrence of this catastrophe.
From this moment we perceived, in the phraseology of the fancy, that it
was ‘all up’ with the bashful young gentleman, and so indeed it was.
Several benevolent persons endeavoured to relieve his embarrassment by
taking wine with him, but finding that it only augmented his sufferings,
and that after mingling sherry, champagne, hock, and moselle together, he
applied the greater part of the mixture externally, instead of
internally, they gradually dropped off, and left him to the exclusive
care of the talkative lady, who, not noting the wildness of his eye,
firmly believed she had secured a listener. He broke a glass or two in
the course of the meal, and disappeared shortly afterwards; it is
inferred that he went away in some confusion, inasmuch as he left the
house in another gentleman’s coat, and the footman’s hat.
This little incident led us to reflect upon the most prominent
characteristics of bashful young gentlemen in the abstract; and as this
portable volume will be the great text-book of young ladies in all future
generations, we record them here for their guidance and behoof.
If the bashful young gentleman, in turning a street corner, chance to
stumble suddenly upon two or three young ladies of his acquaintance,
nothing can exceed his confusion and agitation. His first impulse is to
make a great variety of bows, and dart past them, which he does until,
observing that they wish to stop, but are uncertain whether to do so or
not, he makes several feints of returning, which causes them to do the
same; and at length, after a great quantity of unnecessary dodging and
falling up against the other passengers, he returns and shakes hands most
affectionately with all of them, in doing which he knocks out of their
grasp sundry little parcels, which he hastily picks up, and returns very
muddy and disordered. The chances are that the bashful young gentleman
then observes it is very fine weather, and being reminded that it has
only just left off raining for the first time these three days, he
blushes very much, and smiles as if he had said a very good thing. The
young lady who was most anxious to speak, here inquires, with an air of
great commiseration, how his dear sister Harriet is to-day; to which the
young gentleman, without the slightest consideration, replies with many
thanks, that she is remarkably well. ‘Well, Mr. Hopkins!’ cries the
young lady, ‘why, we heard she was bled yesterday evening, and have been
perfectly miserable about her.’ ‘Oh, ah,’ says the young gentleman, ‘so
she was. Oh, she’s very ill, very ill indeed.’ The young gentleman then
shakes his head, and looks very desponding (he has been smiling
perpetually up to this time), and after a short pause, gives his glove a
great wrench at the wrist, and says, with a strong emphasis on the
adjective, ‘_Good_ morning, _good_ morning.’ And making a great number
of bows in acknowledgment of several little messages to his sister, walks
backward a few paces, and comes with great violence against a lamp-post,
knocking his hat off in the contact, which in his mental confusion and
bodily pain he is going to walk away without, until a great roar from a
carter attracts his attention, when he picks it up, and tries to smile
cheerfully to the young ladies, who are looking back, and who, he has the
satisfaction of seeing, are all laughing heartily.
At a quadrille party, the bashful young gentleman always remains as near
the entrance of the room as possible, from which position he smiles at
the people he knows as they come in, and sometimes steps forward to shake
hands with more intimate friends: a process which on each repetition
seems to turn him a deeper scarlet than before. He declines dancing the
first set or two, observing, in a faint voice, that he would rather wait
a little; but at length is absolutely compelled to allow himself to be
introduced to a partner, when he is led, in a great heat and blushing
furiously, across the room to a spot where half-a-dozen unknown ladies
are congregated together.
‘Miss Lambert, let me introduce Mr. Hopkins for the next quadrille.’
Miss Lambert inclines her head graciously. Mr. Hopkins bows, and his
fair conductress disappears, leaving Mr. Hopkins, as he too well knows,
to make himself agreeable. The young lady more than half expects that
the bashful young gentleman will say something, and the bashful young
gentleman feeling this, seriously thinks whether he has got anything to
say, which, upon mature reflection, he is rather disposed to conclude he
has not, since nothing occurs to him. Meanwhile, the young lady, after
several inspections of her _bouquet_, all made in the expectation that
the bashful young gentleman is going to talk, whispers her mamma, who is
sitting next her, which whisper the bashful young gentleman immediately
suspects (and possibly with very good reason) must be about _him_. In
this comfortable condition he remains until it is time to ‘stand up,’
when murmuring a ‘Will you allow me?’ he gives the young lady his arm,
and after inquiring where she will stand, and receiving a reply that she
has no choice, conducts her to the remotest corner of the quadrille, and
making one attempt at conversation, which turns out a desperate failure,
preserves a profound silence until it is all over, when he walks her
twice round the room, deposits her in her old seat, and retires in
confusion.
A married bashful gentleman—for these bashful gentlemen do get married
sometimes; how it is ever brought about, is a mystery to us—a married
bashful gentleman either causes his wife to appear bold by contrast, or
merges her proper importance in his own insignificance. Bashful young
gentlemen should be cured, or avoided. They are never hopeless, and
never will be, while female beauty and attractions retain their
influence, as any young lady will find, who may think it worth while on
this confident assurance to take a patient in hand.