EPISTLE III.

OF THE USE OF RICHES.

TO ALLEN LORD BATHURST.

THE true use of riches known to few, most falling into one of the extremes, avarice, or profusion. Ver. 1, &c The point discuss'd whether the invention of money was more commodious or pernicious to mankind, 21 to 28. Riches can scarce afford necessaries either to the avaritious or prodigal, much less any happiness, 81, &c. It is never for their own families, r for the poor, that misers covet wealth, but a direct phrensy without an end or purpose, 100. Conjectures, about the motives of avaritious men, to 152. That it can only be accounted for by the order of Providence, which works general good out of extremes, and brings all to its great end by perpetual revolutions, 153 to 178. A picture of a miser acting upon principles which appear to him reasonable, 179. Another of a prodigal acting on the contrary principles which seem to him equally right, 199. The due medium and true use of riches, 219 to 248. The character and praises of the Man of Ross, 250. The fate of the covetous, and of the profuse, in two examples, 298 and 315. That both are miserable, in life and in death. The tale of Sir Balaam, the degrees of corruption by riches, and the consequences, 339, &c.

EPISTLE III.

то

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD BATHURST.

WHO shall decide, when doctors disagree,

And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me ?
You hold the word, from Jove to Momus giv'n,
That man was made the standing jest of heav'n,
And gold but sent to keep the fools in play,
For half to heap, and half to throw away.

But I, who think more highly of our kind,
(And surely Heav'n and I are of a mind)
Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound,
Deep hid the shining mischief under ground:
But when, by man's audacious labour won,
Flam'd forth this rival to its sire the Sun,

10

Then, in plain prose, were made two sorts of men,
To squander some, and some to hide agen.

Like doctors thus, when much dispute has past,
We find our tenets just the same at last :
Both fairly owning, riches in effect
No grace of heav'n, or token of th' elect;

15

Giv'n to the fool, the mad, the vain, the evil,
To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the Devil.
What Nature wants, commodious gold bestows,
'Tis thus we eat the bread another sows :
But how unequal it bestows, observe,
'Tis thus we riot, while who sow it, starve.

20

What Nature wants (a phrase I much distrust)
Extends to luxury, extends to lust;
And if we count among the needs of life
Another's toil, why not another's wife?
Useful, we grant, it serves what life requires,
But dreadful too, the dark assassin hires :
Trade it may help, society extend;

But lures the pyrate, and corrupts the friend:
It raises armies in a nation's aid,

But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd.

Oh! that such bulky bribes as all might see Still, as of old, encumber'd villany!

In vain may heroes fight, aud patriots rave,

If secret gold saps on from knave to knave.
Could France or Rome divert our brave designs,

With all their brandies, or with all their wines ?

What could they more than knights and squires confound,
Or water all the Quorum ten miles round?

A statesman's slumbers how this speech would spoil?

66

66

Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oyl:

Huge bales of British cloath blockade the door;

"A hundred oxen at your levee roar."

Poor Avarice one torment more would find,
Nor could Profusion squander all, in kind.
Astride his cheese Sir Morgan might we meet,
And Worldly crying coals from street to street,
(Whom with a wig so wild, and mien so maz'd,
Pity mistakes for some poor tradesman craz'd)
Had Colepeper's whole wealth been hops and hogs,
Could he himself have sent it to the dogs?
His Grace will game: to White's a bull be led,
With spurning heels, and with a butting head :
To White's be carry'd, as to ancient games,
Fair coursers, vases, and alluring dames.
Shall then Uxorio if the stakes he sweep,
Bear home six whores, and make his lady weep?
Or soft Adonis, so perfum'd and fine,
Drive to St. James's a whole herd of swine?
Oh filthy check on all industrious skill,
To spoil the nation's last great trade, quadrille !
Once, we confess, beneath the patriot's cloak,
From the crack'd bag the dropping guinea spoke,
And gingling down the back-stairs, told the crew,
"Old Cato is as great a rogue as you."
Blest paper-credit! that advanc'd so high,
Now lends corruption lighter wings to fly !

Gold, imp'd with this, can compass hardest things,
Can pocket States, or fetch or carry kings;

A single leaf can waft an army o'er,

Or ship off senates to some distant shore ;

A leaf like Sybil's, scatter to and fro

Our fates and fortunes as the winds shall blow;
Pregnant with thousands flits the scrap unseen,
And silent sells a king, or buys a queen.

Well then, since with the world we stand or fall,

Come take it as we find it, gold and all.

80

What riches give us, let us first enquire;

Meat, fire, and cloaths. What more? meat, cloaths, and fire,

Perhaps you think the poor might have their part?

Bond damns the poor, and hates them from his heart :
The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule,

That "ev'ry man in want is knave or fool:"

"God cannot love (says Blunt, with lifted eyes)

105

"The wretch he starves" and piously denies ;

But rev'rend S-on with a softer air,
Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care.
Yet, to be just to these poor men of pelf,
Each does but hate his neighbour as himself:
Damn'd to the mines, an equal fate betides,
The slave that digs it, and the slave that hides.
Who suffer thus, meer charity should own
Must act on motives pow'rful tho' unknown:
Some war, some plague, some famine they foresee,
Some revelation, hid from you and me.
Why Shylock wants a meal, the cause is found,
He thinks a loaf will rise to fifty pound.
What made directors cheat in South-sea year?
To live on ven'son when it sold so dear.
Ask you why Phryne the whole auction buys?
Phryne foresees a General Excise.

Why she and Sapho raise that monstrous sum?
Alas! they fear a man will cost a plum.

Wise Peter sees the world's respect for gold,
And therefore hopes this nation may be sold:
Glorious ambition! Peter, swell thy store,
And be what Rome's great Didius was before.

The Crown of Poland, venal twice an age, To just three millions stinted modest Gage. But nobler scenes Maria's dreams unfold, Hereditary realms, and worlds of gold,

110

115

120

125

130

Congenial souls! whose life one av'rice joins,
And one fate buries in th' Asturian mines.

Much injur'd Blunt! why bears he Britain's hate?
A wizard told him in these words our fate.
"At length Corruption, like a gen'ral flood,
"(So long by watchful ministers withstood)
"Shall deluge all; and Av'rice creeping on,

135

140

"The Judge shall job, the Bishop bite the town, "And mighty Dukes pack cards for half a crown. "See Britain sunk in Lucre's sordid charms,

145

"And France reveng'd of Anne's and Edward's arms!"

No mean court-badge, great Scriv'ner! fir'd thy brain,
No lordly luxury, nor city gain :

Hear then the truth: ""Tis Heav'n each passion sends,

"And diff'rent men, directs to different ends,

"Extremes in nature equal good produce,
"Extremes in man concur to general use."
Ask we what makes one keep, and one bestow?
That pow'r who bids the ocean ebb and flow;
Bids seed time, harvest, equal course maintain,
Thro' reconcil'd extremes of drought and rain;
Builds life on death, on change duration founds,
And gives th' eternal wheels to know their rounds.
Riches, like insects, when conceal'd they lie,
Wait but for wings, and in their season, fly.
Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store,
Sees but a backward steward for the poor;
This year a reservoir, to keep and spare,
The next, a fountain spout ng thro' his heir,

165

170

175

In lavish streams to quench a country's thirst,

And men and dogs shall drink him, till they burst.
Old Cotta sham'd his fortune and his birth,

Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth:

180

What tho' (the use of barb'rous spits forgot)

His kitchen vy'd in coolness with his grot?

His court with nettles, moat with cresses stor'd,

With soups unbought, and sallads, blest his board.
If Cotta liv'd on pulse, it was no more
Than Bramins, saints, and sages did before :

185

To cram the rich, was prodigal expence,
And who would take the poor from Providence?
Like some lone Chartreuse stands the good old hall,
Silence without, and fasts within the wall;
No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor sound,
No noontide-bell invites the country round;
Tenants with sighs the smoakless tow'rs survey,
And turn th' unwilling steed another way :
Benighted wanderers, the forest o'er
Curse the sav'd candle, and unopening door;
While the gaunt mastiff, growling at the gate,
Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat.

Not so his son, he mark'd this oversight,
And then mistook reverse of wrong for right:
For what to shun will no great knowledge need,
But what to follow is a task indeed.

Whole slaughter'd hecatombs, and floods of wine,
Fill the capacious squire, and deep divine,
Yet no mean motive this profusion draws,
His oxen perish in his country's cause:
'Tis George and Liberty that crowns the cup,
And zeal for that great house that eats him up.
The woods recede around the naked seat,
The sylvans groan-no matter-for the Fleet,
Next goes his wool, to clothe our valiant bands,
Last, for his country's love, he sells his lands.
To Court he comes, compleats the nation's hope,
And heads the bold Train-bands, and burns a Pope.
And shall not Britain now reward his toils,
Britain, that pays her patriots with her spoils ?
In vain at Court the bankrupt pleads his cause,
His thankless country leaves him to her laws.

The sense to value riches, with the art
T'enjoy them, and the virtue to impart,
Not meanly, nor ambitiously persu’d,
Not sunk by sloth, nor raised by servitude;
To balance fortune by a just expence,

190)

195

200

215

210

215

220

Join with œconomy, magnificence,

With splendor, charity, with plenty, health;

225

Oh teach us, Bathurst! yet unspoil'd by wealth!

That secret rare, between th' extremes to move

Of mad good-nature, and of mean self-love.

To want, or worth, well-weigh'd, be bounty giv`n,
And ease, or emulate, the care of Heav'n.
Whose measure full o'erflows on human race,

230

Mends Fortune's fault, and justifies her grace.

Wealth in the gross is death, but life diffus'd,
As poison heals, in just proportion us'd:
In heaps, like ambergrise, a stink it lies,

235

But well dispers'd, is incence to the skies.

Who starves by nobles, or with nobles eats?

The wretch that trusts them, and the rogue that cheats.
Is there a lord, who knows a chearful noon
Without a fidler, flatt'rer, or buffoon:

240