THERE is a certain kind of impostor—a bragging, vaunting, puffing young
gentleman—against whom we are desirous to warn that fairer part of the
creation, to whom we more peculiarly devote these our labours. And we
are particularly induced to lay especial stress upon this division of our
subject, by a little dialogue we held some short time ago, with an
esteemed young lady of our acquaintance, touching a most gross specimen
of this class of men. We had been urging all the absurdities of his
conduct and conversation, and dwelling upon the impossibilities he
constantly recounted—to which indeed we had not scrupled to prefix a
certain hard little word of one syllable and three letters—when our fair
friend, unable to maintain the contest any longer, reluctantly cried,
‘Well; he certainly has a habit of throwing-off, but then—’ What then?
Throw him off yourself, said we. And so she did, but not at our
instance, for other reasons appeared, and it might have been better if
she had done so at first.
The throwing-off young gentleman has so often a father possessed of vast
property in some remote district of Ireland, that we look with some
suspicion upon all young gentlemen who volunteer this description of
themselves. The deceased grandfather of the throwing-off young gentleman
was a man of immense possessions, and untold wealth; the throwing-off
young gentleman remembers, as well as if it were only yesterday, the
deceased baronet’s library, with its long rows of scarce and valuable
books in superbly embossed bindings, arranged in cases, reaching from the
lofty ceiling to the oaken floor; and the fine antique chairs and tables,
and the noble old castle of Ballykillbabaloo, with its splendid prospect
of hill and dale, and wood, and rich wild scenery, and the fine hunting
stables and the spacious court-yards, ‘and—and—everything upon the same
magnificent scale,’ says the throwing-off young gentleman, ‘princely;
quite princely. Ah!’ And he sighs as if mourning over the fallen
fortunes of his noble house.
The throwing-off young gentleman is a universal genius; at walking,
running, rowing, swimming, and skating, he is unrivalled; at all games of
chance or skill, at hunting, shooting, fishing, riding, driving, or
amateur theatricals, no one can touch him—that is _could_ not, because he
gives you carefully to understand, lest there should be any opportunity
of testing his skill, that he is quite out of practice just now, and has
been for some years. If you mention any beautiful girl of your common
acquaintance in his hearing, the throwing-off young gentleman starts,
smiles, and begs you not to mind him, for it was quite involuntary:
people do say indeed that they were once engaged, but no—although she is
a very fine girl, he was so situated at that time that he couldn’t
possibly encourage the—‘but it’s of no use talking about it!’ he adds,
interrupting himself. ‘She has got over it now, and I firmly hope and
trust is happy.’ With this benevolent aspiration he nods his head in a
mysterious manner, and whistling the first part of some popular air,
thinks perhaps it will be better to change the subject.
There is another great characteristic of the throwing-off young
gentleman, which is, that he ‘happens to be acquainted’ with a most
extraordinary variety of people in all parts of the world. Thus in all
disputed questions, when the throwing-off young gentleman has no argument
to bring forward, he invariably happens to be acquainted with some
distant person, intimately connected with the subject, whose testimony
decides the point against you, to the great—may we say it—to the great
admiration of three young ladies out of every four, who consider the
throwing-off young gentleman a very highly-connected young man, and a
most charming person.
Sometimes the throwing-off young gentleman happens to look in upon a
little family circle of young ladies who are quietly spending the evening
together, and then indeed is he at the very height and summit of his
glory; for it is to be observed that he by no means shines to equal
advantage in the presence of men as in the society of over-credulous
young ladies, which is his proper element. It is delightful to hear the
number of pretty things the throwing-off young gentleman gives utterance
to, during tea, and still more so to observe the ease with which, from
long practice and study, he delicately blends one compliment to a lady
with two for himself. ‘Did you ever see a more lovely blue than this
flower, Mr. Caveton?’ asks a young lady who, truth to tell, is rather
smitten with the throwing-off young gentleman. ‘Never,’ he replies,
bending over the object of admiration, ‘never but in your eyes.’ ‘Oh,
Mr. Caveton,’ cries the young lady, blushing of course. ‘Indeed I speak
the truth,’ replies the throwing-off young gentleman, ‘I never saw any
approach to them. I used to think my cousin’s blue eyes lovely, but they
grow dim and colourless beside yours.’ ‘Oh! a beautiful cousin, Mr.
Caveton!’ replies the young lady, with that perfect artlessness which is
the distinguishing characteristic of all young ladies; ‘an affair, of
course.’ ‘No; indeed, indeed you wrong me,’ rejoins the throwing-off
young gentleman with great energy. ‘I fervently hope that her attachment
towards me may be nothing but the natural result of our close intimacy in
childhood, and that in change of scene and among new faces she may soon
overcome it. _I_ love her! Think not so meanly of me, Miss Lowfield, I
beseech, as to suppose that title, lands, riches, and beauty, can
influence _my_ choice. The heart, the heart, Miss Lowfield.’ Here the
throwing-off young gentleman sinks his voice to a still lower whisper;
and the young lady duly proclaims to all the other young ladies when they
go up-stairs, to put their bonnets on, that Mr. Caveton’s relations are
all immensely rich, and that he is hopelessly beloved by title, lands,
riches, and beauty.
We have seen a throwing-off young gentleman who, to our certain
knowledge, was innocent of a note of music, and scarcely able to
recognise a tune by ear, volunteer a Spanish air upon the guitar when he
had previously satisfied himself that there was not such an instrument
within a mile of the house.
We have heard another throwing-off young gentleman, after striking a note
or two upon the piano, and accompanying it correctly (by dint of
laborious practice) with his voice, assure a circle of wondering
listeners that so acute was his ear that he was wholly unable to sing out
of tune, let him try as he would. We have lived to witness the unmasking
of another throwing-off young gentleman, who went out a visiting in a
military cap with a gold band and tassel, and who, after passing
successfully for a captain and being lauded to the skies for his red
whiskers, his bravery, his soldierly bearing and his pride, turned out to
be the dishonest son of an honest linen-draper in a small country town,
and whom, if it were not for this fortunate exposure, we should not yet
despair of encountering as the fortunate husband of some rich heiress.
Ladies, ladies, the throwing-off young gentlemen are often swindlers, and
always fools. So pray you avoid them.