and did the crown many and great services;
and it was owing to this humour of the king
that his family had so great a fortune shut
up in the exchequer of their pleasant
sovereign. The many good-natured conde-
scensions of this prince are vulgarly known;
and it is excellently said of him, by a great
hand† which writ his character, That he
was not a king a quarter of an hour toge-
ther in his whole reign." He would re-

men, and at times I have met with people
who have boxed, fought at back-sword,
and taken poison before king Charles II.
In a word, he was so pleasant a man, that
no one could be sorrowful under his gover-
ment. This made him capable of baffling,
with the greatest ease imaginable, all sug-
gestions of jealousy; and the people could
not entertain notions of any thing terrible
in him, whom they saw every way agree-
able. This scrap of the familiar part of
that prince's history I thought fit to send
you, in compliance to the request you lately
made to your correspondents. I am, sir,
your most humble servant.'
T.

his other virtues, though it must be confessed he had many. He delighted, though a mighty king, to give and take a jest, as they say: and a prince of this fortunate disposition, who were inclined to make an ill use of his power, may have any thing of his people, be it never so much to their prejudice. But this good king made generally a very innocent use, as to the public of this ensnaring temper; for, it is well known he pursued pleasure more than am-ceive visits even from fools and half madbition. He seemed to glory in being the first man at cock-matches, horse-races, balls, and plays; he appeared highly delighted on those occasions, and never failed to warm and gladden the heart of every spectator. He more than once dined with his good citizens of London on their lordmayor's day, and did so the year that Sir Robert Viner was mayor. Sir Robert was a very loyal man, and, if you will allow the expression, very fond of his sovereign; but, what with the joy he felt at heart for the honour done him by his prince, and through the warmth he was in with continual toasting healths to the royal family, his lordship grew a little fond of his majesty, and entered into a familiarity not altogether so graceful in so public a place. The king understood very well how to extricate himself in all kinds of difficulties, and, with a hint to the company to avoid ceremony, stole off and made towards his coach, which stood ready for him in Guildhallyard. But the mayor liked his company so well, and was grown so intimate, that he pursued him hastily, and catching him fast by the hand, cried out with a vehement oath and accent, "Sir, you shall stay and take t'other bottle." The airy monarch looked kindly at him over his shoulder, and with a smile and graceful air (for I saw him at the time, and do now) repeated this line of the old song:

"He that is drunk is as great as a king ;" and immediately turned back and complied with his landlord.

'I give you this story, Mr. Spectator, because, as I said, I saw the passage; and I assure you it is very true, and yet no common one; and when I tell you the sequel, you will say I have a better reason for it. This very mayor, afterwards erected a statue of his merry monarch in Stocks-market,'

"The Mansion-house and many adjacent buildings, stand on the site of Stocks-market; which took its name from a pair of stocks for the punishment of of fenders, erected in an open place near this spot, as early as the year 1281. This was the great market of the city during many centuries. In it stood the famous equestrian statue erected in honour of Charles II. by his most loyal subject sir Robert Viner, lord-mayor Fortunately his lordship discovered one (made at Leghorn) of John Sobieski, King of Poland, trampling on a Turk. The good knight caused some alterations to be made, and christened the Polish Monarch by the name of Charles, and bestowed on the turbaned Turk that of Oliver Cromwell; and thus, new named, it arose on this spot in honour of his convivial monarch. The statue was removed in 1738, to make room for the Mansion-house. It remained many years afterward in an inn-yard; and in 1779 it was bestowed, by the

No. 463.] Thursday, August 21, 1712.
Omnia quæ sensu volvuntur vota diurno,
Pectore sopito reddit amica quies.
Venator defessa toro cum membra reponit,
Mens tamen ad sylvas et sua lustra redit:
Judicibus lites, aurige somnia currus.
Vanaque nocturnis meta cavetur cquis.
Me quoque Musarum studium sub nocte silenti
Claud
Artibus assuetis solicitare solet.

In sleep when fancy is let loose to play,
Our dreams repeat the wishes of the day.
Though farther toils his tired limbs refuse,
The dreaming hunter still the chase pursues.
The judge a-bed dispenses still the laws
And sleeps again o'er the unfinish'd cause.
The dozing racer hears his chariot roll,
Smacks the vain whip, and shuns the fancy'd goal.
Me too the Muses, in the silent night,

With wonted chimes of jingling verse delight.
I WAS lately entertaining myself with
comparing Homer's balance, in which Ju-
piter is represented as weighing the fates
of Hector and Achilles, with a passage of
Virgil, wherein that deity is introduced as
weighing the fates of Turnus and Æneas
I then considered how the same way of
thinking prevailed in the eastern parts of
the world, as in those noble passages of
Scripture, wherein we are told, that the
great king of Babylon, the day before his
death, had been weighed in the balance,
and been found wanting.' In other places
of the holy writings, the Almighty is de-
Scribed as weighing the mountains in scales,
making the weight for the winds, knowing
the balancings of the clouds; and in others,
as weighing the actions of men, and laying
their calamities together in a balance.

common-council, on Robert Viner, Esq. who removed it to grace his country-seat.-Pennant's London, p.

Sheffield duke of Buckingham, who said, that, on a premeditation, Charles II. could not act the part of a king for a moment.

Milton, as I have observed in a former pa- | and many weights of the like nature, in one per, had an eye to several of these foregoing instances in that beautiful description, wherein he represents the archangel and the evil spirit as addressing themselves for the combat, but parted by the balance which appeared in the heavens, and weighed the consequences of such a battle.

But, before I proceed, I must inform my reader, that these weights did not exert their natural gravity till they were laid in the golden balance, insomuch that I could not guess which was light or heavy whilst I held them in my hand. This I found by several instances; for upon my laying a weight in one of the scales, which was inscribed by the word Eternity,' though I As a dream seldom fails of dashing serithrew in that of Time, Prosperity, Afflic-ousness with impertinence, mirth with tion, Wealth, Poverty, Interest, Success, gravity, methought I made several other with many other weights, which in my experiments of a more ludicrous nature, by hand seemed very ponderous, they were not able to stir the opposite balance; nor could they have prevailed, though assisted with the weight of the Sun, the Stars, and

the other. The reader will not inquire | ing of wisdom. Poverty turns our thoughts into the event, if he remembers the first too much upon the supplying of our wants, trial which I have recorded in this paper. and riches, upon enjoying our superfluities; I afterwards threw both the sexes into the and, as Cowley has said in another case, balance; but as it is not for my interest to 'It is hard for a man to keep a steady eye disoblige either of them, I shall desire to upon truth, who is always in a battle or a be excused from telling the result of this triumph.' experiment. Having an opportunity of this nature in my hands, I could not forbear throwing into one scale the principles of a Tory, and into the other those of a Whig; but, as I have all along declared this to be a neutral paper, I shall likewise desire to be silent under this head also, though upon examining one of the weights, I saw the word 'TEKEL' engraven on it in capital

letters.

If we regard poverty and wealth, as they are apt to produce virtues or vices in the mind of man, one may observe that there is a set of each of these growing out of poverty, quite different from that which rises out of wealth. Humility and patience, industry and temperance, are very often the good qualities of a poor man. Humanity, and good-nature, magnanimity and a sense of honour, are as often the qualifiI made many other experiments; and cations of the rich. On the contrary, pothough I have not room for them all in this verty is apt to betray a man into envy, day's speculation, I may perhaps reserve riches into arrogance; poverty is too often them for another. I shall only add, that upon attended with fraud, vicious compliance, my awaking, I was sorry to find my golden repining, murmur and discontent. Riches scales vanished; but resolved for the future expose a man to pride and luxury, a foolto learn this lesson from them, not to de-ish elation of heart, and too great a fondspise or value any thing for their appear-ness for the present world. In short, the ances, but to regulate my esteem and passions towards them according to their real

C.

Hor. Od. x. Lib. 2. 5.

The golden mean, as she's too nice to dwell
Among the ruins of a filthy cell,

So is her modesty withal as great,

To balk the envy of a princely seat.-Norris. I AM wonderfully pleased when I meet with any passage in an old Greek or Latin author that is not blown upon, and which I have never met with in a quotation. Of this kind is a beautiful saying in Theognis: 'Vice is covered by wealth, and virtue by poverty; or to give it in the verbal translation, Among men there are some who have their vices concealed by wealth, and others who have their virtues concealed by poverty.' Every man's observation will supply him with instances of rich men, who have several faults and defects that are overlooked, if not entirely hidden, by means of their riches; and I think, we cannot find a more natural description of a poor man, whose merits are lost in his poverty, than that in the words of the wise man: There was a little city, and few men within it; and there came a great king against it, and besieged it, and built great bulwarks against it. Now there was found in it a poor wise man, and he, by his wisdom, delivered the city; yet no man remembered that same poor man. Then, said I, wisdom is better than strength; nevertheless, the poor man's wisdom is despised, and his words are not heard.'

The middle condition seems to be the most advantageously situated for the gain

middle condition is most eligible to the man who would improve himself in virtue; as I have before shown it is the most advantageous for the gaining of knowledge. It was upon this consideration that Agur founded his prayer, which, for the wisdom of it, is recorded in holy writ. Two things have I required of thee; deny me them not before I die. Remove far from me vanity and lies, give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me; lest I be full and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be poor and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.'

I shall fill the remaining part of my paper with a very pretty allegory, which is wrought into a play by Aristophanes the Greek comedian. It seems originally designed as a satire upon the rich, though, in some parts of it, it is like the foregoing discourse, a kind of comparison between wealth and poverty.

Chremylus, who was an old and a good man, and withal exceeding poor, being desirous to leave some riches to his son, consults the oracle of Apollo upon the subject. The oracle bids him follow the first man he should see upon his going out of the temple. The person he chanced to see was to appearance an old sordid blind man, but, upon his following him from place to place, he at last found, by his own confession, that he was Plutus the god of riches, and that he was just come out of the house of a miser. Plutus farther told him, that when he was a boy, he used to declare, that as soon as he came to age he would distribute wealth to none but virtuous and just men; upon which Jupiter considering the pernicious consequences of such a resolution, took his sight away from him, and left him to stroll about the world in the blind condition wherein Chremylus beheld him. With much ado Chremylus prevailed upon him to go to his

house, where he met an old woman in a HAVING endeavoured in my last Saturtattered raiment, who had been his guest day's paper to show the great excellency for many years, and whose name was Po- of faith, I shall here consider what are the verty. The old woman refusing to turn out proper means of strengthening and confirmso easily as he would have her, he threat-ing it in the mind of man. Those who deened to banish her, not only from his own light in reading books of controversy which house, but out of all Greece, if she made are written on both sides of the question on any more words upon the matter. Poverty points of faith, do very seldom arrive at a on this occasion pleads her cause very fixed and settled habit of it. They are one notably, and represents to her old landlord, day entirely convinced of its important that should she be driven out of the coun-truths, and the next meet with sometry, all their trades, arts, and sciences, thing that shakes and disturbs them. The would be driven out with her; and that, if doubt which was laid revives again, and every one was rich, they would never be shows itself in new difficulties, and that supplied with those pomps, ornaments, and generally for this reason, because the mind, conveniences of life which made riches de- which is perpetually tost in controversies sirable. She likewise represented to him and disputes, is apt to forget the reasons the several advantages which she bestowed which had once set it at rest, and to be upon her votaries in regard to their shape, disquieted with any former perplexity, their health, and their activity, by pre- when it appears in a new shape, or is startserving them from gouts, dropsies, un-ed by a different hand. As nothing is more I wieldiness, and intemperance. But what-laudable than an inquiry after truth, so noever she had to say for herself, she was at last forced to troop off. Chremylus immediately considered how he might restore Plutus to his sight; and, in order to it, conveyed him to the temple of Esculapius, i who was famous for cures and miracles of this nature. By this means the deity recovered his eyes, and began to make a right use of them, by enriching every one that was distinguished by piety towards the gods and justice towards men: and at the 2 same time by taking away his gifts from the impious and undeserving. This produces several merry incidents, till in the last act Mercury descends with great complaints from the gods, that since the good men were grown rich, they had received no sacrifices; which is confirmed by a priest of Jupiter, who enters with a remonstrance, that since the late innovation he was reduced to a starving condition, and could not live upon his office. Chremylus, who in the beginning of the play was religious in his poverty, concludes it with a proposal, which was relished by all the good men who had now grown rich as well as himself, that they should carry Plutus in a solemn procession to the temple, and install him in the place of Jupiter. This allegory instructed the Athenians in two points: first as it vindicted the conduct of Providence in its ordinary distributions of wealth; and, in the next place, as it showed the great tendency of riches to corrupt the morals of those who possessed them. C.

No. 465.] Saturday, August 23, 1712.

Qua ratione queas traducere leniter ævum;
Ne te semper inops agitet vexetque cupido;
Ne pavor et rerum mediocriter utilium spes.
Hor. Ep. xviii. Lib. 1. 97.

How you may glide with gentle ease
Adown the current of your days;

Nor vex'd by mean and low desires,

Nor warm'd by wild ambitious fires;
By hope alarm'd, depress'd by fear,

For things but little worth your care.-Francis.

thing is more irrational than to pass away our whole lives, without determining ourselves, one way or other, in those points which are of the last importance to us. There are indeed many things from which we may withhold our assent; but in cases by which we are to regulate our lives, it is the greatest absurdity to be wavering and unsettled, without closing with that side which appears the most safe and the most probable. The first rule, therefore, which I shall lay down is this; that when by reading or discourse we find ourselves thoroughly convinced of the truth of any article, and of the reasonableness of our belief in it, we should never after suffer ourselves to call it in question. We may perhaps forget the arguments which occasioned our conviction, but we ought to remember the strength they had with us, and therefore still to retain the conviction which they once produced. This is no more than what we do in every common art or science; nor is it possible to act otherwise, considering the weakness and limitation of our intellectual faculties. It was thus that Latimer, one of the glorious army of martyrs, who introduced the reformation in England, behaved himself in that great conference which was managed between the most learned among the protestants and papists in the reign of Queen Mary. This venerable old man, knowing his abilities were impaired by age, and that it was impossible for him to recollect all those reasons which had directed him in the choice of his religion, left his companions, who were in the full possession of their parts and learning, to baffle and confound their antagonists by the force of reason. As for himself, he only repeated to his adversaries the articles in which he firmly believed, and in the profession of which he was determined to die. It is in this manner that the mathematician proceeds upon propositions which he has once demonstrated: and though the demonstration may have slipped out of his me

mory, he builds upon the truth, because he knows it was demonstrated. This rule is absolutely necessary' for weaker minds, and in some measure for men of the greatest abilities; but to these last I would propose, in the second place, that they should lay up in their memories, and always keep by them in readiness, those arguments which appear to them of the greatest strength, and which cannot be got over by all the doubts and cavils of infidelity.

But, in the third place, there is nothing which strengthens faith more than morality. Faith and morality naturally produce each other. A man is quickly convinced of the truth of religion, who finds it is not against his interest that it should be true. The pleasure he receives at present, and the happiness which he promises himself from it hereafter, will both dispose him very powerfully to give credit to it, according to the ordinary observation, that we are easy to believe what we wish.' It is very certain, that a man of sound reason cannot forbear closing with religion upon an impartial examination of it; but at the same time it is certain, that faith is kept alive in us, and gathers strength from practice more than from speculation.

There is still another method, which is more persuasive than any of the former; and that is an habitual adoration of the Supreme Being, as well in constant acts of mental worship, as in outward forms. The devout man does not only believe, but feels there is a deity. He has actual sensations of him; his experience concurs with his reason; he sees him more and more in all his intercourses with him, and even in this life almost loses his faith in conviction.

The last method which I shall mention for the giving life to a man's faith, is frequent retirement from the world, accompanied with religious meditation. When a man thinks of any thing in the darkness of the night, whatever deep impressions it may make in his mind, they are apt to vanish as soon as the day breaks upon him. The light and noise of the day, which are perpetually soliciting his senses, and calling off his attention, wear out of his mind the thoughts that imprinted themselves in it, with so much strength, during the silence and darkness of the night. A man

rally grow in the mind of every reasonable man, who sees the impressions of divine power and wisdom in every object on which he casts his eye. The Supreme Being has made the best arguments for his own existence, in the formation of the heavens and the earth; and these are arguments which a man of sense cannot forbear attending to, who is out of the noise and hurry of human affairs. Aristotle says; that should a man live under ground, and there converse with the works of art and mechanism, and should afterward be brought up into the open day, and see the several glories of the heaven and earth, he would immediately pronounce them the works of such a being as we define God to be. The psalmist has very beautiful strokes of poetry to this purpose, in that exalted strain: The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament showeth his handy work. One day telleth another; and one night certifieth another. There is neither speech nor language; but their voices are heard among them. Their sound is gone out into all lands; and their words into the ends of the world.' As such a bold and sublime manner of thinking furnishes very noble matter for an ode, the reader may see it wrought into the following one.

I.

"The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim:

Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an almighty hand.

II.

"Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the list'ning earth
Repeats the story of her birth:
Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

· III.

"What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
What though no real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
The hand that made us is divine."

-Vera incessu patuit dea.-Virg. Æn. i. 409. And by her graceful walk the queen of love is known Dryden.

finds the same difference as to himself in a No. 466.] Monday, August 25, 1712. crowd and in a solitude: the mind is stunned and dazzled amidst that variety of objects which press upon her in a great city. She cannot apply herself to the consideration of those things which are of the utmost concern to her. The cares or pleasures of the world strike in with every thought, and a multitude of vicious examples give a kind of justification to our folly. In our retirements, every thing disposes us to be serious. In courts and cities we are entertained with the works of men; in the country with those of God. One is the province of art, the other of nature. Faith and devotion natu

WHEN Æneas, the hero of Virgil, is lost in the wood, and a perfect stranger in the place on which he is landed, he is accosted by a lady in a habit for the chase. She inquires of him, whether he has seen pass by that way any young woman dressed as she was? whether she were following the sport in the wood, or any other way employed, according to the custom of huntresses? The hero answers with the respect due to the