The Out-and-Out Young Gentleman

"The Out-and-Out Young Gentleman" is a short story by Charles Dickens that explores themes of social class, identity, and the complexities of gentlemanly behavior. The narrative follows the character of the young gentleman, who grapples with societal expectations and personal aspirations. Dickens employs his signature wit and keen observational skills to highlight the absurdities of Victorian society, particularly in relation to notions of class and propriety. Through this story, Dickens critiques the superficiality often associated with gentlemanly status while showcasing the struggles of an individual striving for authenticity and self-discovery.

• Short story

								
OUT-AND-OUT young gentlemen may be divided into two classes—those who
have something to do, and those who have nothing.  I shall commence with
the former, because that species come more frequently under the notice of
young ladies, whom it is our province to warn and to instruct.

The out-and-out young gentleman is usually no great dresser, his
instructions to his tailor being all comprehended in the one general
direction to ‘make that what’s-a-name a regular bang-up sort of thing.’
For some years past, the favourite costume of the out-and-out young
gentleman has been a rough pilot coat, with two gilt hooks and eyes to
the velvet collar; buttons somewhat larger than crown-pieces; a black or
fancy neckerchief, loosely tied; a wide-brimmed hat, with a low crown;
tightish inexpressibles, and iron-shod boots.  Out of doors he sometimes
carries a large ash stick, but only on special occasions, for he prefers
keeping his hands in his coat pockets.  He smokes at all hours, of
course, and swears considerably.

The out-and-out young gentleman is employed in a city counting-house or
solicitor’s office, in which he does as little as he possibly can: his
chief places of resort are, the streets, the taverns, and the theatres.
In the streets at evening time, out-and-out young gentlemen have a
pleasant custom of walking six or eight abreast, thus driving females and
other inoffensive persons into the road, which never fails to afford them
the highest satisfaction, especially if there be any immediate danger of
their being run over, which enhances the fun of the thing materially.  In
all places of public resort, the out-and-outers are careful to select
each a seat to himself, upon which he lies at full length, and (if the
weather be very dirty, but not in any other case) he lies with his knees
up, and the soles of his boots planted firmly on the cushion, so that if
any low fellow should ask him to make room for a lady, he takes ample
revenge upon her dress, without going at all out of his way to do it.  He
always sits with his hat on, and flourishes his stick in the air while
the play is proceeding, with a dignified contempt of the performance; if
it be possible for one or two out-and-out young gentlemen to get up a
little crowding in the passages, they are quite in their element,
squeezing, pushing, whooping, and shouting in the most humorous manner
possible.  If they can only succeed in irritating the gentleman who has a
family of daughters under his charge, they are like to die with laughing,
and boast of it among their companions for a week afterwards, adding,
that one or two of them were ‘devilish fine girls,’ and that they really
thought the youngest would have fainted, which was the only thing wanted
to render the joke complete.

If the out-and-out young gentleman have a mother and sisters, of course
he treats them with becoming contempt, inasmuch as they (poor things!)
having no notion of life or gaiety, are far too weak-spirited and moping
for him.  Sometimes, however, on a birth-day or at Christmas-time, he
cannot very well help accompanying them to a party at some old friend’s,
with which view he comes home when they have been dressed an hour or two,
smelling very strongly of tobacco and spirits, and after exchanging his
rough coat for some more suitable attire (in which however he loses
nothing of the out-and-outer), gets into the coach and grumbles all the
way at his own good nature: his bitter reflections aggravated by the
recollection, that Tom Smith has taken the chair at a little impromptu
dinner at a fighting man’s, and that a set-to was to take place on a
dining-table, between the fighting man and his brother-in-law, which is
probably ‘coming off’ at that very instant.

As the out-and-out young gentleman is by no means at his ease in ladies’
society, he shrinks into a corner of the drawing-room when they reach the
friend’s, and unless one of his sisters is kind enough to talk to him,
remains there without being much troubled by the attentions of other
people, until he espies, lingering outside the door, another gentleman,
whom he at once knows, by his air and manner (for there is a kind of
free-masonry in the craft), to be a brother out-and-outer, and towards
whom he accordingly makes his way.  Conversation being soon opened by
some casual remark, the second out-and-outer confidentially informs the
first, that he is one of the rough sort and hates that kind of thing,
only he couldn’t very well be off coming; to which the other replies,
that that’s just his case—‘and I’ll tell you what,’ continues the
out-and-outer in a whisper, ‘I should like a glass of warm brandy and
water just now,’—‘Or a pint of stout and a pipe,’ suggests the other
out-and-outer.

The discovery is at once made that they are sympathetic souls; each of
them says at the same moment, that he sees the other understands what’s
what: and they become fast friends at once, more especially when it
appears, that the second out-and-outer is no other than a gentleman, long
favourably known to his familiars as ‘Mr. Warmint Blake,’ who upon divers
occasions has distinguished himself in a manner that would not have
disgraced the fighting man, and who—having been a pretty long time about
town—had the honour of once shaking hands with the celebrated Mr.
Thurtell himself.

At supper, these gentlemen greatly distinguish themselves, brightening up
very much when the ladies leave the table, and proclaiming aloud their
intention of beginning to spend the evening—a process which is generally
understood to be satisfactorily performed, when a great deal of wine is
drunk and a great deal of noise made, both of which feats the out-and-out
young gentlemen execute to perfection.  Having protracted their sitting
until long after the host and the other guests have adjourned to the
drawing-room, and finding that they have drained the decanters empty,
they follow them thither with complexions rather heightened, and faces
rather bloated with wine; and the agitated lady of the house whispers her
friends as they waltz together, to the great terror of the whole room,
that ‘both Mr. Blake and Mr. Dummins are very nice sort of young men in
their way, only they are eccentric persons, and unfortunately rather too
wild!’

The remaining class of out-and-out young gentlemen is composed of
persons, who, having no money of their own and a soul above earning any,
enjoy similar pleasures, nobody knows how.  These respectable gentlemen,
without aiming quite so much at the out-and-out in external appearance,
are distinguished by all the same amiable and attractive characteristics,
in an equal or perhaps greater degree, and now and then find their way
into society, through the medium of the other class of out-and-out young
gentlemen, who will sometimes carry them home, and who usually pay their
tavern bills.  As they are equally gentlemanly, clever, witty,

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