of January next, (if not timely prevented,) at a general meeting in the sword-cutlers hall. I shall at present (to let them see that they are not unobserved) content myself with publishing only the said articles. Articles to be agreed upon by the members of the Imprimis, That the club do meet at midnight in the great armory-hall in the tower, (if leave can be ob tained,) the first Monday in every month. 2. That the president be seated upon a drum at the upper end of the table, accoutred with a helmet, a basket hilt sword, and a buff belt. 3. That the president be always obliged to provide, for the first and standing dish of the club, a pasty of bull beef, baked in a target made for that purpose. 4. That the members do cut their meat with bayonets instead of knives. 5. That every member do sit to the table, and eat with his hat, his sword, and his gloves on. 6. That there be no liquor drank but rack-punch, quickened with brandy and gun-powder. 7. That a large mortar be made use of for a punchbowl. In all appearance it could be no other than a member of this club, who came last week to Button's, and sat over against the lion with such a settled fierceness in his countenance, as if he came to vie with that animal in sternness of looks. His stature was somewhat low; his motions quick and smart, and might be mistaken for startings and convulsions. He wore a broad stiff hat, cudgel-proof, with an edging three fingers deep, trussed up into the fierce trooper's cock. To this was added a dark wig, very moderately curled, and tied in two large knots up to his ears; his coat was short, and rich in tarnished lace; his nostrils and his upper lip were all begrimed with snuff. At first I was in hopes the gentleman's friends took care not to intrust him with any weapon; until looking down, I could perceive a sword of a most unwarrantable size, that hung carelessly below his knee, with two large tassels at the hilt, that played about his ankles. I must confess I cannot help shrewdly suspecting the courage of the Terribles. I beg pardon if I am in the wrong when I think, that the long sword, and the swaggering cock, are the ordinary disguises of a faint heart. These men, while they think to impose terror upon others, do but render themselves contemptible; their very dress tells you that they are surrounded with fears, that they live in Hobbes's state of nature, and that they are never free from apprehensions. I dare say, if one were to look into the hearts of these champions, one should find there a great tendency to go cased in armour, and that nothing but the fear of a stronger ridicule restrains them from it. A brave man scorns to wear any thing, that may give him an advantage over his neighbour; his great glory is neither to fear, nor to be feared. I remember, when I was abroad, to have seen a buffoon in an opera, whose excessive cowardice never failed to set the whole audience into a loud laughter: but the scene which seemed to divert them most, was that in which he came on with a sword that reached quite across the stage, and was put to flight by an adversary, whose stature was not above four foot high, and whose weapon was not three foot long. This brings to my mind what I have formerly read of a king of Arabia, who shewing a rich sword, that had been presented to him, his courtiers unanimously gave their opinion, that it had no other fault, but that of being too short; upon which the king's son said, that there was no weapon too short for a brave man, since there needed no more but to advance one step to make it long enough. To this I shall subjoin, by way of corollary, that there is no weapon long enough for a coward, who never thinks himself secure while he is within sight of his adversary's point. I would therefore advise these men of distant courage, as they tender their honour, to shorten their dimensions, and reduce their tilters to a more reputable, as well as a more portable size 2. STEELE. N° 144. WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 26, 1713. Sua cuique quum sit animi cogitatio, Colorque privus PHÆDR. Prol. Every man has his peculiar way of thinking and acting. It is a very just, and a common observation upon the natives of this island, that in their different degrees, and in their several professions and employments, they abound as much, and perhaps more, in good sense than any people; and yet, at the same time there is scarce an Englishman of any life and spirit, that has not some odd cast of thought, some original humour, that distinguishes him from his neighbour. Hence it is that our comedies are enriched with such a diversity of characters, as is not to be seen upon any other theatre in Europe. Even in the masquerades that have been lately given to the town (though they * See Nos. 145 and 171. are diversions we are not accustomed to) the singularities of dress were carried much farther than is usual in foreign countries, where the natives are trained up, as it were, from their infancy, to those amusements. The very same measure of understanding, the very same accomplishments, the very same defects, shall, among us, appear under a quite different aspect in one man, to what they do in another. This makes it as impracticable to foreigners to enter into a thorough knowledge of the English, as it would be to learn the Chinese language, in which there is a different character for every individual word. I know not how to explain this vein of humour so obvious in my countrymen, better than by comparing it to what the French call Le gout du terroir in wines, by which they mean the different flavour one and the same grape shall draw from the different soils in which it is planted. This national mark is visible among us in every rank and degree of men, from the persons of the first quality and politest sense, down to the rudest and most ignorant of the people. Every mechanic has a peculiar cast of head and turn of wit, or some uncommon whim, as a characteristic that distinguishes him from others of his trade, as well as from the multitudes that are upon a level with him. We have a small-coal-man', who from beginning with two plain notes, which made up his daily cry, has made himself master of the whole compass of the gamut, and has frequently concerts of music at his own house, for the entertainment of himself and his friends. There is a person of great hospitality, who lives in a 1 Mr. Thomas Britton, the musical small-coal-man; of whom an account may be seen in the Gentleman's Maga, zine, Vol. xliii. p. 437, and Sir John Hawkins's History of Music, Vol. v. book 1, chap. 9. plastered cottage upon the road to Hampstead, and gets a superfluity of wealth, by accommodating holiday passengers with ale, brandy, pipes, tobacco, gingerbread, apples, pears, and other small refreshments of life; and on workdays takes the air in his chaise, and recreates himself with the elegant pleasures of the beau-monde. The shining men amongst our mob, dignified by the title of ringleaders, have an inexhaustible fund of archness and raillery; as likewise have our sailors and watermen. Our very street-beggars are not without their peculiar oddities, as the schoolmen term them. The other day a tattered wag followed me across the Mews with one farthing or half-penny, good your honour, do your honour; and I shall make bold to pray for you.' Shakspeare (who was a great copier of nature), whenever he introduces any artisans or low characters into his plays, never fails to dash them strongly with some distinguishing stain of humour, as may be seen more remarkably in the scene of the grave-diggers in Hamlet. Though this singularity of temper, which runs through the generality of us, may make us seem whimsical to strangers; yet it furnishes out a perpetual change of entertainment to ourselves, and diversifies all our conversations with such a variety of mirth, as is not to be met with in any other country. Sir William Temple, in his Essay upon Poetry, endeavours to account for the British humours in the following manner: This may proceed from the native plenty of our soil, the unequalness of our climate, as well as the ease of our government, and the liberty of professing opinions and factions, which perhaps our neighbours have about them, but are forced to disguise, and thereby may come in time to be extinguished. Thus |