We have a mortal aversion to fine lads. And, wherefore, pray? Why,
because in nine cases out of ten, if not positively in every case, they
are the dullest and most insipid of all human beings: they are good,
inoffensive creatures, certainly, but oh, they are dreadful bores! If
you doubt it, just you take an hour of a fine lad’s company, with nobody
present but yourselves. Shut yourself up in a room with him for that
space of time, and if you don’t ever after, as long as you live, stand
in dread and awe of the society of fine lads, you must be differently
constituted from other men, and amongst other rare gifts must possess
that of being bore-proof.
But, pray, what after all _is_ a fine lad? To the possession of what
quality or qualities is he indebted for this very amiable sort of
character?
Why, these are questions which, like many others, are much more easily
put than answered. But, speaking from our own knowledge and experience,
we should say that it is not the presence, but the absence--the entire
absence of every quality, good, bad, and indifferent, that constitutes
the fine lad; and hence his intolerable insipidity.
The fine lad is a blank, a cipher, a vacuum, a nonentity, a ring without
a circumference, a footless stocking without a leg. In disposition he
is neither sweet, sour, nor bitter; in temper, neither hot nor cold;
in spirit, neither merry nor sad. He is in fact, so far as any thing
positive can be said of him, a mere concentration of negatives. In person
he is neither long nor short, neither fat nor lean, neither stout nor
slender. There must in short be a total absence of all meaning, all
expression, all character, in the happy individual whom every body will
agree in calling a fine lad.
Between the fine lad and the world the matter stands thus: the latter
finding him destitute of all distinctive characteristics, is greatly at
a loss what to make of him. It cannot in conscience call him clever,
and it does not like to say he is an ass, so it good-naturedly calls
him a fine lad, taking shelter in the vagueness and indefiniteness of
the term, since nobody can say precisely what a fine lad really means.
Unlike most other reputations, that of the fine lad is wholly undisputed:
it is generally bestowed on him by universal consent--no dissentient
voice--every body agrees in calling him a fine lad. This is well, and
must be a source of great comfort and satisfaction to the fine lad
himself.
We have stated that nobody can say precisely what a fine lad really is,
and this is true, generally speaking. But there is notwithstanding some
degree of meaning attached to the term: it means, so far as it means any
thing, a soft, meek, simpering, unresisting creature, who will allow
himself to be kicked and cuffed about by any body and every body without
resenting it, and who will take quietly any given quantity of abuse you
choose to heap upon him. This we imagine to be the true reason why people
call him a fine lad, just because he offers them, whether right or wrong,
no resistance; hence it is too, we have no doubt, that he is so general a
favourite.
As most people have a great fancy for having as much of their own way as
possible, and as they find themselves much jostled and opposed in the
indulgence of this laudable propensity by those who are bent on having
the same enjoyment, they are delighted when they meet with one who
readily makes way for them, and reward his simplicity by clapping him on
the head, and calling him a fine lad.
The fine lad is a goose, poor fellow--no doubt of it--a decided goose,
but he cannot help that: it is no fault of his; he means well, and is
a most civil and obliging creature--all smiles and good nature. Being
in reality good for little or nothing, having no activity, no tact
whatever of any kind, the fine lad would in most cases be rather ill off
as regards his temporalities, but for his steadiness. He is generally
steady, and of sober and regular habits; and this, together with his
extremely civil demeanour and inoffensive disposition, helps him on, and
secures him in comfortable and respectable bread. You will thus for the
most part find the fine lad in a well-doing way--in a good situation
probably, and with every prospect of advancement. His employer likes
him for his integrity and docility. He confesses that he is by no means
clever, in fact that he is rather stupid; but, then, he is a fine lad.
This character he gives him to every body, and every body acknowledges
its justice, and calls him a fine lad too.
Fine lads are in great favour with the ladies, and no wonder, for
fine lads are remarkably attentive to them: they make the best of all
beaus. Thus it is that you are sure to find at least one fine lad at
every tea party you go to. You know him at once by his soft speech and
maiden-like smile, and by the readiness with which he undertakes, and
the quiet gentleness with which he performs, the task of handing about
the tea-bread, and discharging the other little duties of the occasion.
At all this sort of work the fine lad is unapproachable--it is his
element--here, if nowhere else, he shines resplendent. High in favour,
however, as fine lads are with the fair sex, we have sometimes thought
that there was fully more of esteem than admiration in the feeling with
which they contemplate his character. They like his society, and have at
all times their softest words and blandest smiles ready for him; but we
much doubt if he is just the sort of man they would choose for a husband.
We rather think not. We suspect they see in his nature something too much
akin to their own, to allow of their ever thinking of him in the light of
a protector.
The fine lad, however, _does_ get married sometimes, and in justice
to him, we are bound to say, always makes an excellent husband. He
is gentle, kind, and indulgent: for the fine lad generally remains,
in spirit at least, a fine lad to the last. So the ladies had better
take this into consideration, having our authority for so doing, and
henceforth look on fine lads with more seriousness than they have
hitherto done.