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kind, instead of being pleasing. Witty men | cause he just now saw her. But I think I are apt to imagine they are agreeable as need not dwell on this subject, since I have such, and by that means grow the worst acknowledged there can be no rules made companions imaginable; they deride the for excelling this way; and precepts of this absent or rally the present in a wrong man- kind fare like rules for writing poetry, not knowing that if you pinch or tickle which, it is said, may have prevented ill a man till he is uneasy in his seat, or un- poets, but never made good ones. gracefully distinguished from the rest of the


company, you equally hurt him.

Quid pure tranquillet


Hor. Ep. xviii. Lib. 102 What calms the breast and makes the mind serene.

I was going to say, the true art of being No. 387.] Saturday, May 24, 1712. agreeable in company (but there can be no such thing as art in it) is to appear well pleased with those you are engaged with, and rather to seem well entertained, than to bring entertainment to others. A man In my last Saturday's paper, I spoke of thus disposed is not indeed what we ordi- cheerfulness as it is a moral habit of the narily call a good companion, but essentially mind, and accordingly mentioned such mois such, and in all the parts of his conversa- ral motives as are apt to cherish and keep tion has something friendly in his behaviour, alive this happy temper in the soul of man. which conciliate men's minds more than the I shall now consider cheerfulness in its nahighest sallies of wit or starts of humour can tural state, and reflect on those motives to possibly do. The feebleness of age in a man it which are indifferent either as to virtue of this turn has something which should be or vice. treated with respect even in a man no otherwise venerable. The forwardness of youth, when it proceeds from alacrity and not insolence, has also its allowances. The companion who is formed for such by nature, gives to every character of life its due regards, and is ready to account for their imperfections, and receive their accomplishments as if they were his own. It must appear that you receive law from, and not give it to, your company, to make you agreeable.

I remember Tully, speaking, I think, of Antony, says, that, In eo facetiæ erant, quæ nulla arte tradi possunt: He had a witty mirth, which could be acquired by no art.' This quality must be of the kind of which I am now speaking; for all sorts of behaviour which depend upon observation and knowledge of life are to be acquired; but that which no one can describe, and is apparently the act of nature, must be every where prevalent, because every thing it meets is a fit occasion to exert it; for he who follows nature can never be improper or unseasonable.

Cheerfulness is, in the first place, the best promoter of health. Repinings, and secret murmurs of heart, give impercepti ble strokes to those delicate fibres of which the vital parts are composed, and wear out the machine insensibly; not to mention those violent ferments which they stir up in the blood, and those irregular disturbed motions which they raise in the animal spirits. I scarce remember, in my own observation, to have met with many old men, or with such, who (to use our English phrase,) wear well, that had not at least a certain indolence in their humour, if not a more than ordinary gayety and cheerfulness of heart. The truth of it is, health and cheerfulness mutually beget each other, with this difference, that we seldom meet with a great degree of health which is not attended with a certain cheerfulness, but very often see cheerfulness where there is no great degree of health.

Cheerfulness bears the same friendly regard to the mind as to the body. It banishes all anxious care and discontent, soothes and composes the passions, and keeps the sou How unaccountable then must their be- in a perpetual calm. But having already haviour be, who, without any manner of touched on this last consideration, I shal consideration of what the company they here take notice, that the world in which have now entered are upon, give themselves we are placed is filled with innumerabl the air of a messenger, and make as distinct objects that are proper to raise and keep relations of the occurrences they last met alive this happy temper of mind. with, as if they had been despatched from If we consider this world in its subser those they talk to, to be punctually exact viency to man, one would think it was mad in a report of those circumstances! It is for our use; but if we consider it in its natu unpardonable to those who are met to enjoy ral beauty and harmony, one would be ap one another, that a fresh man shall pop in, to conclude it was made for our pleasure and give us only the last part of his own The sun, which is as the great soul of the life, and put a stop to ours during the his- universe, and produces all the necessari tory. If such a man comes from 'Change, of life, has a particular influence in cheer whether you will or not, you must hear how ing the mind of man, and making the hear the stocks go; and, though you are never glad so intently employed on a graver subject, a young fellow of the other end of the town will take his place, and tell you, Mrs. Such-a-one is charmingly handsome, be

Those several living creatures which a made for our service or sustenance, at th same time either fill the woods with the music, furnish us with game, or raise plea

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g ideas in us by the delightfulness of their
ppearance. Fountains, lakes, and rivers,
re as refreshing to the imagination, as to
me soil through which they pass.
There are writers of great distinction,
ho have made it an argument for Provi-
ence, that the whole earth is covered with
reen rather than with any 'other colour,
being such a right mixture of light and
ade, that it comforts and strengthens the
ye, instead of weakening or grieving it.
or this reason several painters have a
reen cloth hanging near them to ease the
ye upon, after too great an application to
heir colouring. A famous modern philoso-
her accounts for it in the following man-
er. All colours that are more luminous,
verpower and dissipate the animal spirits
hich are employed in sight; on the con-
ary, those that are more obscure do not
ve the animal spirits a sufficient exercise;
hereas, the rays that produce in us the
lea of green, fall upon the eye in such a
ue proportion, that they give the animal
pirits their proper play, and, by keeping
p the struggle in a just balance, excite a
ery pleasing and agreeable sensation. Let
he cause be what it will, the effect is cer-
in; for which reason, the poets ascribe
this particular colour the epithet of

qualities, and tastes and colours, sounds
and smells, heat and cold, but that man,
while he is conversant in the lower stations
of nature, might have his mind cheered
and delighted with agreeable sensations?
In short, the whole universe is a kind of
theatre filled with objects that either raise
in us pleasure, amusement, or admiration.
The reader's own thoughts will suggest
to him the vicissitude of day and night, the
change of seasons, with all that variety of
scenes which diversify the face of nature,
and fill the mind with a perpetual succes-
sion of beautiful and pleasing images.

I shall not here mention the several en-
tertainments of art, with the pleasures of
friendship, books, conversation, and other
accidental diversions of life, because I would
only take notice of such incitements to a
cheerful temper as offer themselves to per-
sons of all ranks and conditions, and which
may sufficiently show us that Providence
did not design this world should be filled
with murmurs and repinings, or that the
heart of man should be involved in gloom
and melancholy.

I the more inculcate this cheerfulness of temper, as it is a virtue in which our countrymen are observed to be more deficient than any other nation. Melancholy is a kind of demon that haunts our island, and To consider further this double end in the often conveys herself to us in an easterly orks of nature, and how they are at the wind. A celebrated French novelist, in opme time both useful and entertaining, we position to those who begin their romances nd that the most important parts in the with the flowery season of the year, enters egetable world are those which are the on his story thus, 'In the gloomy month of ost beautiful. These are the seeds by November, when the people of England hich the several races of plants are pro-hang and drown themselves, a disconsolate agated and continued, and which are al- lover walked out into the fields,' &c. ays lodged in the flowers or blossoms. ature seems to hide her principal design, nd to be industrious in making the earth ay and delightful, while she is carrying on er great work, and intent upon her own reservation. The husbandman, after the me manner, is employed in laying out the hole country into a kind of garden or landcape, and making every thing smile about im, whilst in reality he thinks of nothing ut of the harvest, and the increase which to arise from it.

Every one ought to fence against the temper of his climate or constitution, and frequently to indulge in himself those considerations which may give him a serenity of mind, and enable him to bear up cheerfully against those little evils and misfortunes which are common to human nature, and which, by a right improvement of them, will produce a satiety of joy, and an uninterrupted happiness.

At the same time that I would engage my reader to consider the world in its most We may further observe how Providence agreeable lights, I must own there are as taken care to keep up this cheerfulness many evils which naturally spring up the mind of man, by having formed it amidst the entertainments that are profter such a manner as to make it capable vided for us; but these, if rightly consiconceiving delight from several objects hich seem to have very little use in them; from the wildness of rocks and deserts, ad the like grotesque parts of nature. hose who are versed in philosophy may ill carry this consideration higher, by serving, that if matter had appeared to sendowed only with those real qualities hich it actually possesses, it would have ade but a very joyless and uncomfortable gure; and why has Providence given it a ower of producing in us such imaginary

Sir Isaac Newton.

dered, should be far from overcasting the
mind with sorrow, or destroying that cheer-
fulness of temper which I have been recom-
mending. This interspersion of evil with
good, and pain with pleasure, in the works
of nature, is very truly ascribed by Mr.
Locke, in his Essay on Human Under-
standing, to a moral reason, in the following

'Beyond all this, we may find another
reason why God hath scattered up and
down several degrees of pleasure and pain,
in all the things that environ and affect us,
and blended them together, in almost all

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-Tibi res antiquæ laudis et artis Ingredior; sanctos ausus recludere fontes. Virg. Georg. ii. 174. For thee, I dare unlock the sacred spring, And arts disclos'd by ancient sages sing. 'MR. SPECTATOR, -It is my custom, when I read your papers, to read over the quotations in the authors from whence you take them. As you mentioned a passage lately out of the second chapter of Solomon's Song, it occasioned my looking into it; and, upon reading it, I thought the ideas so exquisitely soft and tender, that I could not help making this paraphrase of it: which, now it is done, I can as little forbear sending to you. Some marks of your approbation, which I have already received, have given me so sensible a taste of them, that I cannot forbear endeavouring after them as often as I can with any appearance of success. I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant.'



"As when in Sharon's field the blushing rose Does its chaste bosom to the morn disclose, Whilst all around the Zephyrs bear

The fragrant odours through the air,
Or as the lily in the shady vale

Does o'er each flow'r with beauteous pride prevail,
And stands with dews and kindest sunshine blest,
In fair pre-eminence, superior to the rest:
So if my Love, with happy influence, shed
His eyes' bright sunshine on his lover's head,
Then shall the rose of Sharon's field,
And whitest lilies, to my beauties yield,
Then fairest flow'rs with studious art combine,
The roses with the lilies join,

-And their united charms are less than mine.


"As much as fairest lilies can surpass
A thorn in beauty, or in height the grass;
So does my Love, among the virgins shine,
Adorn'd with graces more than half divine:
Or as a tree, that, glorious to behold,
Is hung with apples all of ruddy gold,
Hesperian fruit, and, beautifully high,
Extends its branches to the sky;
So does my Love the virgins' eyes invite;
'Tis he alone can fix their wand'ring sight,
Among ten thousand eminently bright.

"Beneath his pleasing shade
My wearied limbs at ease I laid,

And on his fragrant boughs reclin'd my head,
I pull'd the golden fruit with eager haste;
Sweet was the fruit, and pleasing to the taste!
With sparkling wine he crown'd the bowl,
With gentle ecstacies he fill'd my soul;
Joyous we sat beneath the shady grove,
And o'er my head he hung the banners of his love.

"I faint! I die! my lab'ring breast
Is with the mighty weight of love opprest!
I feel the fire possess my heart,

And pain convey'd to every part.

Through all my veins the passion flies,
My feeble soul forsakes its place,
A trembling faintness seals my eyes,
And paleness dwells upon my face:
O! let my love with pow'rful odours stay
My fainting love-sick sou!, that dies away,
One hand beneath me let him place,
With t'other press me in a chaste embrace.

"I charge you, nymphs of Sion, as you go
Arm'd with the sounding quiver and the bow,
Whilst thro' the lonesome woods you rove,
You ne'er disturb my sleeping love.
Be only gentle Zephyrs there
With downy wings to fan the air;
Let sacred silence dwell around,

To keep off each intruding sound.
And when the balmy slumber leaves his eyes,
May he to joys, unknown till then, arise!

"But see! he comes! with what majestic gait
He onward bears his lovely state!

Now through the lattice he appears,
With softest words dispels my fears.
Arise, my fair one, and receive
All the pleasures love can give!
For now the sullen winter's past,
No more we fear the northern blast;
No storms nor threat'ning clouds appear,
No falling rains deform the year;
My love admits of no delay,
Arise, my fair, and come away!

"Already, see! the teeming earth
Brings forth the flow'rs, her beauteous birth,
The dews, and soft-descending show'rs,
Nurse the new-born tender flow'rs.
Hark! the birds inelodious sing,
And sweetly usher in the spring.
Close by his fellow sits the dove,
And billing whispers her his love.
The spreading vines with blossoms swell,
Diffusing round a grateful smell.
Arise, my fair one, and receive
All the blessings love can give;
For love admits of no delay,
Arise, my fair, and come away!

"As to its mate the constant dove
Flies through the covert of the spicy grove,
So let us hasten to some lonely shade,
There let me safe in thy lov'd arms be laid,
Where no intruding bateful noise

Shall damp the sound of thy melodious voice;
Where I may gaze, and mark each beauteous grace;
For sweet thy voice, and lovely is thy face.

"As all of me, my Love, is thine,
Let all of thee be ever mine,
Among the lilies we will play,
Fairer, my Love, thou art, than they;
Till the purple morn arise,

And balmy sleep forsake thine eyes;
Till the gladsome beams of day

Remove the shades of night away;

Then when soft sleep shall from thy eyes depart, Rise like the bounding roe, or lusty hart,

Glad to behold the light again

From Bether's mountains darting o'er the plain." T.

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s sold for thirty pounds. As it was writ- | brated, since our adversaries challenge all
by one Jordanus Brunus, a professed those, as men who have too much interest
neist, with a design to depreciate religion, in this case to be impartial evidences.
ery one was apt to fancy, from the extra-
gant price it bore, that there must be
mething in it very formidable.

I must confess that, happening to get a
ht of one of them myself, I could not for-
ar perusing it with this apprehension;
t found there was so very little danger in
that I shall venture to give my reader a
r account of the whole plan upon which
is wonderful treatise is built.
The author pretends that Jupiter once
on a time, resolved upon a reformation
the constellations: for which purpose,
ving summoned the stars together, he
mplains to them of the great decay of the
orship of the gods, which he thought so
ach the harder, having called several of
Ose celestial bodies by the names of the
athen deities, and by that means made
e heavens as it were a book of the pagan
eology. Momus tells him that this is not
be wondered at, since there were so many
andalous stories of the deities. Upon
ich the author takes occasion to cast re-
ctions upon all other religions, concluding
at Jupiter, after a full hearing, discarded
e deities out of heaven, and called the
rs by the names of the moral virtues.
The short fable, which has no pretence
it to reason or argument, and but a very
all share of wit, has however recom-
ended itself, wholly by its impiety, to
ose weak men who would distinguish
emselves by the singularity of their opi-


But what has been often urged as a consideration of much more weight, is not only the opinion of the better sort, but the general consent of mankind to this great truth; which I think could not possibly have come to pass, but from one of the three following reasons: either that the idea of a God is innate and co-existent with the mind itself; or that this truth is so very obvious, that it is discovered by the first exertion of reason in persons of the most ordinary capacities; or lastly, that it has been delivered down to us through all ages by a tradition from the first man.

The atheists are equally confounded, to whichever of these three causes we assign it; they have been so pressed by this last argument from the general consent of mankind, that after great search and pains they pretend to have found out a nation of atheists, I mean that polite people the Hottentots.

I dare not shock my readers with the description of the customs and manners of these barbarians, who are in every respect scarce one degree above brutes, having no language among them but a confused gabble, which is neither well understood by themselves nor others.

It is not, however, to be imagined how much the atheists have gloried in these their good friends and allies.

If we boast of a Socrates or a Seneca, they
may now confront them with these great
philosophers the Hottentots.

There are two considerations which have
en often urged against atheists, and which
ey never yet could get over. The first is,
at the greatest and most eminent persons
ages have been against them, and al-
ays complied with the public forms of Methinks nothing more shows the weak-
rship established in their respective coun-ness of their cause, than that no division of
es, when there was nothing in them either their fellow-creatures join with them but
rogatory to the honour of the Supreme those among whom they themselves own
ing, or prejudicial to the good of mankind. reason is almost defaced, and who have but
The Platos and Ciceros among the an- little else but their shape which can entitle
ents; the Bacons, the Boyles, and the them to any place in the species.
ckes, among our own countrymen; are all
stances of what I have been saying; not to
ention any of the divines, however cele-

Though even this point has, not without
reason, been several times controverted, I
see no manner of harm it could do to reli-
gion, if we should entirely give them up this
elegant part of mankind.

Joseph Ames, of Sir Peter Thompson, and of M. C. et, esq. among whose books it was lately sold by tion, at Mr. Gerrard's in Litchfield-street. The auof this book, Giordano Bruno, was a native of a, in the kingdom of Naples, and burnt at Rome by er of the inquisition in 1600. Morhoff, speaking of eists, says, Jordanum tamen Brunum huic classi non amerarem, manifesto in illo atheismi vestigia non rehendo. Polyhist. i. 1. 8. 22. Bruno published many er writings said to be atheistical. The book spoken ere was printed, not at Paris, as is said in the titlee, nor in 1544. but at London, and in 1584, 12mo. cated to sir Philip Sidney. It was for some time so e regarded, that it was sold with five other books of same author, for 25 pence French, at the sale of Mr. r's library in 1706; but it is now very scarce, and been sold at the exorbitant price of 50%. Niceron. mes I'lust. tom. xvii. p. 211. There was an edition in English in 1713.

Besides these poor creatures, there have now and then been instances of a few crazy people in several nations who have denied the existence of a deity.

The catalogue of these is, however, very short; even Vanina, the most celebrated champion for the cause, professed before his judges that he believed the existence of a God: and, taking up a straw which lay before him on the ground, assured them that alone was sufficient to convince him of it: alleging several arguments to prove that it was impossible nature alone could create any thing.

I was the other day reading an account of Casimir Lyszynski, a gentleman of Poland, who was convicted and executed for this crime. The manner of his punishment was very particular. As soon as his body was

In my opinion, a solemn judicial death is too great an honour for an atheist; though I must allow the method of exploding him, as it is practised in this ludicrous kind of martyrdom, has something in it proper enough to the nature of his offence.

burnt, his ashes were put into a cannon, and their own behaviour so unhappily, that
shot into the air towards Tartary.
there indeed lies some cause of suspicion
I am apt to believe, that if something like upon them. It is certain, that there is no
this method of punishment should prevail in authority for persons who have nothing else
England (such is the natural good sense of to do, to pass away hours of conversation
the British nation,) that whether we ram-upon the miscarriages of other people; but
med an atheist whole into a great gun, or since they will do so, they who value their
pulverized our infidels, as they do in Po- reputation should be cautious of appear-
land, we should not have many charges. ances to their disadvantage: but very often
I should, however, premise, while our our young women, as well as the middle-
ammunition lasted, that, instead of Tartary, aged, and the gay part of those growing
we should always keep two or three cannons old, without entering into a formal league
ready pointed towards the Cape of Good for that purpose, to a woman, agree upon
Hope, in order to shoot our unbelievers into a short way to preserve their characters,
the country of the Hottentots.
and go on in a way that at best is only not
vicious. The method is, when an ill-natured
or talkative girl has said any thing that bears
hard upon some part of another's carriage,
this creature, if not in any of their little
cabals, is run down for the most censorious,
dangerous body in the world. Thus they
There is indeed a great objection against guard their reputation rather than their
this manner of treating them. Zeal for re-modesty; as if guilt lay in being under the
ligion is of so effective a nature that it sel- imputation of a fault, and not in a commis
dom knows where to rest: for which reason sion of it. Orbicilla is the kindest por
I am afraid, after having discharged our thing in town, but the most blushing crea
atheists, we might possibly think of shoot- ture living. It is true, she has not lost the
ing off our sectaries; and as one does not sense of shame, but she has lost the sense
foresee the vicissitudes of human affairs, it of innocence. If she had more confidence,
might one time or other come to a man's and never did any thing which ought to
own turn to fly out of the mouth of a demi- stain her cheeks, would she not be much
more modest, without that ambiguous suf
If any of my readers imagine that I have fusion which is the livery both of guilt and
treated these gentlemen in too ludicrous a innocence? Modesty consists in being con-
manner, I must confess, for my own part, I scious of no ill, and not in being ashamed
think reasoning against such unbelievers, of having done it. When people go upon
upon a point that shocks the common sense any other foundation than the truth of their
of mankind, is doing them too great an ho- own hearts for the conduct of their actions,
nour, giving them a figure in the eye of the it lies in the power of scandalous tongues to
world, and making people fancy that they carry the world before them, and make
have more in them than they really have. the rest of mankind fall in with the ill for
As for those persons who have any scheme fear of reproach. On the other hand, to do
of religious worship, I am for treating such what you ought, is the ready way to make
with the utmost tenderness, and should calumny either silent, or ineffectually ma
endeavour to show them their errors with licious. Spenser, in his Fairy Queen, says
the greatest temper and humanity; but as admirably to young ladies under the dis
these miscreants are for throwing down re-tress of being defamed:
ligion in general, for stripping mankind of
what themselves own is of excellent use in
all great societies, without once offering to
establish any thing in the room of it, I think
the best way of dealing with them, is to re-
tort their own weapons upon them, which
are those of scorn and mockery. X.

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'The best,' said he, that I can you advise,
Is to avoid th' occasion of the ill:
For when the cause, whence evil doth arise,
Removed is, th' effect surceaseth still.
Abstain from pleasure, and restrain your will,
Subdue desire, and bridle loose delight:
Use scanty diet, and forbear your fill;

Shun secresy, and talk in open sight;
So shall you soon repair your present evil plight.'

Instead of this care over their words and actions, recommended by a poet in old queen Bess's days, the modern way is to say and do what you please, and yet be the prettiest sort of woman in the world. If fathers and brothers will defend a lady's honour, she is quite as safe as in her own innocence. Many of the distressed, who suffer under the malice of evil tongues, are so harmless, that they are every day they live asleep till twelve at noon; concem themselves with nothing but their own per sons till two; take their necessary food be tween that time and four; visit, go to the

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