CHAP. X.The happiness of a life wholly devoted unto God, farther proved, from thevanity, and theridiculous,poorenjoyments which they are forced to take up with, who live according to their own humours. This represented in various characters.1.WE may see yet more of the happiness of a life devoted to God, by considering the poor contrivances for happiness, and the contemptible ways of life, which they are thrown into, who are seeking after happiness by other methods.If one looks at their lives, who live by no rule but their own humours and fancies; if one sees what it is, which they calljoy, andgreatness, andhappiness; if one sees how they rejoice and repent, change and fly from one delusion to another, one shall find great reason to rejoice, that God hath appointed anarrowway that leadeth unto life, and that we are not left to the folly of our own minds, or forced to take up with such shadows of happiness, as the folly of the world has invented. I sayinvented, becausethose things which make up thejoy and happinessof the world, are mereinventions, which have no foundation in nature, are no way the proper good or happiness of man, no way perfect either his body or his mind.2. *As, for instance, when a man proposes to be happy in ways ofambition, by raising himself to someimaginary heightsabove other people. This is aninventionof happiness which has no foundation in nature, but it is as mere a cheat of our own making, as if a man should intend to make himself happy byclimbingup aladder.*If awomanseeks for happiness fromfine coloursorspotsuponher face, fromjewelsandrich cloaths, this is as merely aninventionof happiness, as contrary tonatureandreason, as if she should propose to make herself happy, by painting apost, and putting the same finery upon it. It is in this respect that I call these mereinventionsof happiness, because neither God, nor nature, nor reason, hath appointed them as such; but whatever appears joyful or happy in them, is entirely invented by the blindness and vanity of our own minds.And it is on these inventions of happiness, that I desire you to cast your eye, that you may thence learn howgreat a goodreligion is, which delivers you from such a multitude of follies, and vain pursuits, as are the torment ofminds that wander from their true happiness in God.3. *Look atFlatus, and learn how miserable they are, who are left to the folly of their own passions.Flatusis rich and in health, yet always uneasy, and always searching after happiness. Every time you visit him, you find some new project in his head; he is eager upon it as something that is more worth his while, and will do more for him, than any thing that is already past. Every new thing so seizes him, that if you was to take him from it, he would think himself quite undone. His sanguine temper, and strong passions, promise him so much happiness in every thing, that he is always cheated, and is satisfied with nothing.At his first setting out in life,fine cloathswas his delight. His enquiry was only after the besttaylorsandperuke-makers; and he had no thoughts of excelling in any thing butdress. He spared no expence, but carried every nicety to its greatest height. But this happiness not answering his expectations, he left off hisbrocades, put on a plain coat, railed atfopsandbeaux, and gave himself up togamingwith great eagerness.This new pleasure satisfied him for some time; he envied no other way of life. But being by the fate ofplay, drawn into aduel, where he narrowly escaped his death, he left off thedice,and sought for happiness no longer amongst thegamesters.4. The next thing that seized his wandering imagination, was the diversions of thetown; and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard him talk of nothing butladies,drawing-rooms,birth-nights,plays,balls, andassemblies; but growing sick of these, he had recourse to harddrinking. He had now many a merry night, and met with stronger joys than any he had felt before. And here he had thoughts of setting up his staff, and looking out no farther; but unluckily falling into afever, he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave of the happiness of being drunk.The next attempt after happiness carried him into thefield. For two or three years nothing was so happy ashunting. He entered upon it with all his soul, and leaped over morehedgesandditchesthan had ever been known in so short a time. You never saw him but in agreen coat. He was the envy of all that blow thehorn, and always spoke to his dogs in great propriety of language. If you meet him at home in a bad day, you would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained with the surprizing accidents of the lastnoble chace. No sooner hadFlatusoutdone all the world in the breed and education of hisdogs, built newkennels, newstables, and bought a newhunting-seat, but he got sight of another happiness, hated the senseless noise and hurry ofhunting, gave away his dogs, and was for some time after deep in thepleasuresofbuilding.5. Now he invents new kinds ofdovecoats, and has such contrivances in hisbarnsandstables, as were never seen before. He wonders at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement ofarchitecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordinary way. He tells his friends, that he never was so delighted in any thing in his life; that he has more happiness amongst hisbrickandmortar, than ever he had atcourt: and that he is contriving how to have some little matter to do that way as long as he lives.After this, he was a greatstudentfor one whole year. He was up early and late at hisItalian grammar, that he might have the happiness of understanding theopera, and not be like thoseunreasonablepeople, that are pleased with they don’t know what.Flatusis very ill-natured, or otherwise, just as his affairs happen to be when you visit him. If you find him when some project is almost wore out, you will find a peevish, ill-bred man; but if you had seen him just as he entered upon hisriding regimen, or begun to excel in sounding the horn, you had been saluted with great civility.Flatusis now at a full stand, and is doing what he never did in his life before. He isreasoningandreflectingwith himself. He loses severaldays, in considering which of hiscast-offways of life he should try again.But here a new project comes in to his relief. He is now living uponherbs, and running about the country, to get himself in asgood windas anyrunning footmanin the kingdom.6. I have been thus circumstantial in so many foolish particulars, because I hope that every particular folly that you here see, will naturally turn itself into an argument for the wisdom and happiness of a religious life.If I could lay before you a particular account of all the circumstances of terror and distress, that daily attend a life atsea, the more particular I was in the account, the more I should make you feel and rejoice in the happiness of living upon theland.In like manner, the more I enumerate thefollies,anxieties,delusions, and restless desires which go thro’ every part of a life devoted to worldly enjoyments, the more you must be affected with that peace, and rest, and solid content, which religion gives to the souls of men.7. But you will perhaps say, that the ridiculous, restless life ofFlatus, is not the common state of those who neglect the strict rules of religion; and that therefore it is not so great an argument of the happiness of a religious life.I answer, that I am afraid it is one of the mostgeneral charactersin life; and that few people can read it, without seeing something in it thatbelongs to themselves. For where shall we find that wise and happy man, who has not been eagerly pursuing different appearances of happiness, sometimes thinking it was here, and sometimes there?And if people were to divide their lives into particular stages, and ask themselves what they were pursuing, or what it was which they had chiefly in view, when they weretwentyyears old, what attwenty-five, what atthirty, what atforty, what atfifty, and so on, till they were brought to their last bed, numbers of people would find, that they had pursued as many different appearances of happiness, as are to be seen in the life ofFlatus.And thus it must be, more or less, with all who propose any other happiness, than that which arises from a strict and regular piety.8. But,secondly, let it be granted, that thegeneralityof people are not of such restless, fickle tempers asFlatus, the difference is only this,Flatusis continually changing and trying something new, but others are content with some one state; they don’t leavegaming, and then fall tohunting, but follow one or the other all their life. Some have so muchsteadinessin their tempers, that they seek after no other happiness, but that ofheapingup riches; others grow old in the sports of thefield; others are content todrinkthemselves to death, without the least enquiry after any other happiness.Now, is there any thing morehappyorreasonable, in such a life as this, than in the life ofFlatus? Is it not as wise and happy, to be constantly changing from one thing to another, as to be nothing else but agathererof money, ahunter, agamester, or adrunkard, all your life?Shall religion be looked upon as a burden, as a dull and melancholy state, for calling men from suchhappinessas this, to labour after the perfection of their nature, and prepare themselves for an endless state of joy and glory in the presence of God?9. *But turn your eyes now another way, and let thetrifling joys, thegewgawhappiness ofFeliciana, teach you how wise they are, what delusion they escape, whose hearts and hopes are fixed upon happiness in God.If you was to live withFelicianabut one half year, you would see all the happiness that she is to have as long as she lives. She has no more to come, but the poor repetition of that which could never have pleased once, but thro’ a littleness of mind, and want of thought.She is to be again dressed fine, and keep her visiting-day. She is again to change the colour of hercloaths, again to have a newhead. She is again to see who acts best at theplayhouse, and who sings finest at theopera. She is again to make ten visits in a day, and be ten times in a day trying to talk artfully, easily, and politely, about nothing.She is to be again delighted with some new fashion, and again angry at the change of some old one. She is to be again at cards, and gaming at midnight, and again in bed at noon. She is to be again pleased with hypocritical compliments, and again disturbed with imaginary affronts. She is to be again delighted with her good luck atgaming, and again tormented with the loss of her money. She is again to prepare herself for a birth-night, and again to see the town full of good company. She is again to hear the cabals and intrigues of the town, again to have secret intelligence of private amours, and early notice of marriages, quarrels and partings.If you see her come out of her chariot more briskly than usual, converse with more spirit, and seem fuller of joy than she was last week, it is because there is some surprising new dress, or new diversion just come to town.10. These are all thesubstantialandregularparts ofFeliciana’s happiness; and she never knew a pleasant day in her life, but it was owing to some one, or more, of these things.It is for this happiness, that she has always been deaf to the reasonings of religion, that her heart has been too gay and chearful to consider what isrightorwrongin regard to eternity; or to listen to the sound of such dull words, aswisdom,piety, anddevotion.It is for fear of losing some of this happiness, that she dares not meditate on the immortalityof her soul, consider her relation to God, or turn her thoughts towards those joys, which make saints and angels infinitely happy in the presence and glory of God.But let it be observed, that as poor a round of happiness as this appears, yet most women that avoid the restraints of religion for a gay life, must be content with very small parts of it. As they have notFeliciana’s fortune; so they must give away the comforts of a pious life, for a very small part of her happiness.11. And if you look into the world, and observe the lives of those women, whom no arguments can persuade to live wholly unto God, you will find most of them such, as lose all the comforts of religion without gaining the tenth part ofFeliciana’s happiness. They are such as spend their times and fortunes only in mimicking the pleasures of richer people; and rather look and long after, than enjoy those delusions, which are not to be purchased but by considerable fortunes.But if a woman ofhighbirth andgreatfortune, having read the gospel, should rather wish to be anunder servantin some pious family, where wisdom, piety, and great devotion, directed all the actions of every day; if she should rather wish this, than to live at the top ofFeliciana’s happiness, I should think her neithermadnormelancholy; but that she judged as rightly of the spirit of the gospel, as if she had ratherwished to bepoor Lazarusat the gate, than to be the rich mancloathed in purple and fine linen, and faring sumptuously every day.*But to proceed, would you know what an happiness it is, to be governed by the wisdom of religion, look at the poor condition ofSuccus, whose greatest happiness is agood night’s rest in bed, and agood mealwhen he is up. When he talks of happiness, it is always in such expressions as shews you, that he has only his bed and his dinner in his thoughts.This regard to hismealsandrepose, makesSuccusorder all the rest of his time with relation to them. He will undertake no business that may hurry his spirits, or break in upon his hours ofeatingandrest. If he reads, it shall be only for half an hour, because that is sufficient to amuse the spirits; and he will read something that may make him laugh, as rendering the body fitter for itsfoodandrest; or, if he has a mind at any time to indulge a grave thought, he has recourse to a useful treatise upon the♦ancient cookery.Succusis an enemy to allparty matters, having made it an observation, that there is as good eating amongst thewhigsas thetories.♦‘antient’ replaced with ‘ancient’He talks coolly and moderately upon all subjects, and is as fearful of falling into a passion, as of catching cold; being very positive they are both equally injurious to thestomach. If ever you see him more hot than ordinary, it isupon some provoking occasion, when the dispute about cookery runs high, or in the defence of some beloved dish, which has often made him happy. But he has been so long upon these subjects, is so well acquainted with all that can be said on both sides, and has so often answered all objections, that he generally decides the matter with great gravity.Succusis very loyal, and as soon as ever he likes any wine, he drinks the king’s health with all his heart. Nothing could put rebellious thoughts into his head, unless he should live to see a proclamation against eating ofpheasant’seggs.♦13. All the hours that are not devoted either toreposeornourishment, are looked upon bySuccusaswasteorspare time. For this reason he lodges near acoffee-houseand atavern, that when he rises in the morning he may be near thenews, and when he parts at night, he may not have far to go to bed. In the morning you always see him in the same place in thecoffee-room; and if he seems more attentively engaged than ordinary, it is because somecriminalis broke out ofnewgate, or someladywas robbed last night, but they can’t tell where. When he has learnt all that he can, he goes home to settle the matter with the barber’s boy that comes to shave him.♦Number 12 omitted in text.The nextwaste timethat lies upon his hands, is from dinner to supper; and if melancholythoughts ever come into his head, it is at this time, when he is often left to himself for an hour or more, and that after the greatest pleasure he knows is just over. He is afraid to sleep, because he has heard it is not healthful at that time; so that he is forced to refuse so welcome a guest.But here he is soon relieved by a settled method of playing at cards, till it is time to think of some little, nice matter for supper.After thisSuccustakes his glass, talks of the excellency of theEnglish constitution, and praises thatministerthe most, who keeps the best table.On aSundaynight you may sometimes hear him condemning the iniquity oftown rakes; and the bitterest thing that he says against them is this, that he verily believes, some of them are so abandoned, as not to have aregular meal, or asound night’s sleep, in a week.At elevenSuccusbids all good night, and parts in great friendship. He is presently in bed, and sleeps till it is time to go to thecoffee-housenext morning.If you was to live withSuccusfor a twelvemonth, this is all that you would see in his life, except a fewcursesandoathsthat he uses as occasion offers.And now I cannot help making this reflection:14. That as I believe the most likely means in the world to inspire a person with true piety,was to have seen the example of some eminent professors of religion: so the next thing that is likely to fill us with the same zeal, is to see thefolly, thebaseness, and poor satisfactions of a life destitute of religion. As the one excites us to love and admire the wisdom and greatness of religion; so the other may make us fearful of living without it.For who can help blessing God for themeans of grace, and for thehope of glory, when he sees what variety of folly they sink into, who live without it? Who would not heartily engage in all the labours of a pious life, when he sees whatdullsensuality, whatgrossenjoyments they are left to, who seek for happiness in other ways?So that whether we consider the greatness of religion, or the littleness of all other things, and the meanness of all other enjoyments, there is nothing to be found in the whole nature of things for a thoughtful mind to rest upon, but a happiness in religion.15. Consider now with yourself, how unreasonably, it is pretended that a life of strict piety must be adullandanxiousstate? For, can it with any reason be said that the duties of religion render our lives heavy and melancholy, when they only deprive us of such happiness as has been here laid before you?Must it be tedious to live in the continual exercise of charity and temperance, to act wiselyand virtuously, to do good to the utmost of your power, to imitate the divine perfections, and prepare yourself for the enjoyment of God? Must it be dull and tiresome to improve in holiness, to feel the comforts of conscience in all your actions, to know that God is your friend, that all must work for your good; that neither life nor death, neither men nor devils can do you any harm; but that all your sufferings and doings, are in a short time to be rewarded with everlasting glory: must such a state bedullandtiresome, for want of such happiness asFlatusorFelicianaenjoys?Now, if this cannot be said, then there is no happiness lost, by being strictly pious; nor has the devout man any thing to envy in any other state of life. For all the art and contrivances in the world, without religion, cannot make more of human life, or carry its happiness to any greater height, thanFlatusorFelicianahas done.The finestwit, the greatestgeniusupon earth, if not governed by religion, must be asfoolish, andlow, andvain, in his method of happiness, as thepoor Succus.16. *If you was to see a man dully endeavouring all his life to satisfy his thirst, by holding up one and the sameempty cupto his mouth, you would certainly despise his ignorance.*But, if you should see others, ofbrighter parts, andfiner understandings, ridiculing the dull satisfaction ofone cup, and thinking to satisfy their own thirst by variety of gilt andgolden empty cups; would you think that these were ever thewiser, orhappier, orbetteremployed, for theirfiner parts?*Now, this is all the difference that you can see in the happiness of this life.Thedullandheavysoul may be content with oneempty appearanceof happiness, and be continually trying to hold thesame empty cupto his mouth all his life. But let thewit, thedeep scholar, thefine genius, the greatstatesman, the politegentleman, lay all their heads together, and they can only shew youmoreandvarious,empty appearancesof happiness; give them all the world into their hands, let them cut and carve as they please, they can only make a greater variety ofempty cups.*So that if you don’t think it hard to be deprived of the pleasures ofgluttony, for the sake of religion, you have no reason to think it hard to be restrained from any worldly pleasure. For search as deep, and look as far as you will, there is nothing here to be found, that isnobler, orgreater, thanhigh eatinganddrinking, unless you look for it in the wisdom of religion.And if all that is in the world, are only so manyempty cups, what does it signify which you take, or how many?17. If you would but use yourself to such meditations as these, to reflect upon the vanity ofall ordersof life without piety, to consider how all the ways of the world, are only so many different ways of error, blindness, and mistake; these meditations would awaken your soul into a zealous desire of that solid happiness which is only to be found in recourse to God.18. To meditate upon the perfection of the divine attributes, to contemplate the glories of heaven, to consider the joys of saints and angels living for ever in the brightness and glory of the divine presence; these are the meditations of souls advanced in piety, and not suited to every capacity.But to see and consider theemptinessand error of all worldly happiness, to see thegrossnessofsensuality, thepoornessof pride, thestupidityof covetousness, thevanityof dress, theblindnessof our passions, theuncertaintyof our lives, and theshortnessof all worldly projects; these are meditations that are suited to all capacities. They require no depth of thought, or sublime speculation; but are forced upon us by all our senses, and taught by almost every thing that we see and hear.This is thatWisdom that crieth, and putteth forth her voice in the streets,Prov.viii.1. that standeth at all our doors, that appealeth to all our senses, teaching us in every thing and every where, by all that we see, and all that we hear, by births♦and burials, by sickness and health, by life and death, by pains and poverty, by misery and vanity, and by all the changes of life; that there is nothing else for man to look after, no other end in nature for him to drive at, but a happiness in religion.♦duplicate word removed ‘and’
The happiness of a life wholly devoted unto God, farther proved, from thevanity, and theridiculous,poorenjoyments which they are forced to take up with, who live according to their own humours. This represented in various characters.
1.WE may see yet more of the happiness of a life devoted to God, by considering the poor contrivances for happiness, and the contemptible ways of life, which they are thrown into, who are seeking after happiness by other methods.
If one looks at their lives, who live by no rule but their own humours and fancies; if one sees what it is, which they calljoy, andgreatness, andhappiness; if one sees how they rejoice and repent, change and fly from one delusion to another, one shall find great reason to rejoice, that God hath appointed anarrowway that leadeth unto life, and that we are not left to the folly of our own minds, or forced to take up with such shadows of happiness, as the folly of the world has invented. I sayinvented, becausethose things which make up thejoy and happinessof the world, are mereinventions, which have no foundation in nature, are no way the proper good or happiness of man, no way perfect either his body or his mind.
2. *As, for instance, when a man proposes to be happy in ways ofambition, by raising himself to someimaginary heightsabove other people. This is aninventionof happiness which has no foundation in nature, but it is as mere a cheat of our own making, as if a man should intend to make himself happy byclimbingup aladder.
*If awomanseeks for happiness fromfine coloursorspotsuponher face, fromjewelsandrich cloaths, this is as merely aninventionof happiness, as contrary tonatureandreason, as if she should propose to make herself happy, by painting apost, and putting the same finery upon it. It is in this respect that I call these mereinventionsof happiness, because neither God, nor nature, nor reason, hath appointed them as such; but whatever appears joyful or happy in them, is entirely invented by the blindness and vanity of our own minds.
And it is on these inventions of happiness, that I desire you to cast your eye, that you may thence learn howgreat a goodreligion is, which delivers you from such a multitude of follies, and vain pursuits, as are the torment ofminds that wander from their true happiness in God.
3. *Look atFlatus, and learn how miserable they are, who are left to the folly of their own passions.
Flatusis rich and in health, yet always uneasy, and always searching after happiness. Every time you visit him, you find some new project in his head; he is eager upon it as something that is more worth his while, and will do more for him, than any thing that is already past. Every new thing so seizes him, that if you was to take him from it, he would think himself quite undone. His sanguine temper, and strong passions, promise him so much happiness in every thing, that he is always cheated, and is satisfied with nothing.
At his first setting out in life,fine cloathswas his delight. His enquiry was only after the besttaylorsandperuke-makers; and he had no thoughts of excelling in any thing butdress. He spared no expence, but carried every nicety to its greatest height. But this happiness not answering his expectations, he left off hisbrocades, put on a plain coat, railed atfopsandbeaux, and gave himself up togamingwith great eagerness.
This new pleasure satisfied him for some time; he envied no other way of life. But being by the fate ofplay, drawn into aduel, where he narrowly escaped his death, he left off thedice,and sought for happiness no longer amongst thegamesters.
4. The next thing that seized his wandering imagination, was the diversions of thetown; and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard him talk of nothing butladies,drawing-rooms,birth-nights,plays,balls, andassemblies; but growing sick of these, he had recourse to harddrinking. He had now many a merry night, and met with stronger joys than any he had felt before. And here he had thoughts of setting up his staff, and looking out no farther; but unluckily falling into afever, he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave of the happiness of being drunk.
The next attempt after happiness carried him into thefield. For two or three years nothing was so happy ashunting. He entered upon it with all his soul, and leaped over morehedgesandditchesthan had ever been known in so short a time. You never saw him but in agreen coat. He was the envy of all that blow thehorn, and always spoke to his dogs in great propriety of language. If you meet him at home in a bad day, you would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained with the surprizing accidents of the lastnoble chace. No sooner hadFlatusoutdone all the world in the breed and education of hisdogs, built newkennels, newstables, and bought a newhunting-seat, but he got sight of another happiness, hated the senseless noise and hurry ofhunting, gave away his dogs, and was for some time after deep in thepleasuresofbuilding.
5. Now he invents new kinds ofdovecoats, and has such contrivances in hisbarnsandstables, as were never seen before. He wonders at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement ofarchitecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordinary way. He tells his friends, that he never was so delighted in any thing in his life; that he has more happiness amongst hisbrickandmortar, than ever he had atcourt: and that he is contriving how to have some little matter to do that way as long as he lives.
After this, he was a greatstudentfor one whole year. He was up early and late at hisItalian grammar, that he might have the happiness of understanding theopera, and not be like thoseunreasonablepeople, that are pleased with they don’t know what.
Flatusis very ill-natured, or otherwise, just as his affairs happen to be when you visit him. If you find him when some project is almost wore out, you will find a peevish, ill-bred man; but if you had seen him just as he entered upon hisriding regimen, or begun to excel in sounding the horn, you had been saluted with great civility.
Flatusis now at a full stand, and is doing what he never did in his life before. He isreasoningandreflectingwith himself. He loses severaldays, in considering which of hiscast-offways of life he should try again.
But here a new project comes in to his relief. He is now living uponherbs, and running about the country, to get himself in asgood windas anyrunning footmanin the kingdom.
6. I have been thus circumstantial in so many foolish particulars, because I hope that every particular folly that you here see, will naturally turn itself into an argument for the wisdom and happiness of a religious life.
If I could lay before you a particular account of all the circumstances of terror and distress, that daily attend a life atsea, the more particular I was in the account, the more I should make you feel and rejoice in the happiness of living upon theland.
In like manner, the more I enumerate thefollies,anxieties,delusions, and restless desires which go thro’ every part of a life devoted to worldly enjoyments, the more you must be affected with that peace, and rest, and solid content, which religion gives to the souls of men.
7. But you will perhaps say, that the ridiculous, restless life ofFlatus, is not the common state of those who neglect the strict rules of religion; and that therefore it is not so great an argument of the happiness of a religious life.
I answer, that I am afraid it is one of the mostgeneral charactersin life; and that few people can read it, without seeing something in it thatbelongs to themselves. For where shall we find that wise and happy man, who has not been eagerly pursuing different appearances of happiness, sometimes thinking it was here, and sometimes there?
And if people were to divide their lives into particular stages, and ask themselves what they were pursuing, or what it was which they had chiefly in view, when they weretwentyyears old, what attwenty-five, what atthirty, what atforty, what atfifty, and so on, till they were brought to their last bed, numbers of people would find, that they had pursued as many different appearances of happiness, as are to be seen in the life ofFlatus.
And thus it must be, more or less, with all who propose any other happiness, than that which arises from a strict and regular piety.
8. But,secondly, let it be granted, that thegeneralityof people are not of such restless, fickle tempers asFlatus, the difference is only this,Flatusis continually changing and trying something new, but others are content with some one state; they don’t leavegaming, and then fall tohunting, but follow one or the other all their life. Some have so muchsteadinessin their tempers, that they seek after no other happiness, but that ofheapingup riches; others grow old in the sports of thefield; others are content todrinkthemselves to death, without the least enquiry after any other happiness.
Now, is there any thing morehappyorreasonable, in such a life as this, than in the life ofFlatus? Is it not as wise and happy, to be constantly changing from one thing to another, as to be nothing else but agathererof money, ahunter, agamester, or adrunkard, all your life?
Shall religion be looked upon as a burden, as a dull and melancholy state, for calling men from suchhappinessas this, to labour after the perfection of their nature, and prepare themselves for an endless state of joy and glory in the presence of God?
9. *But turn your eyes now another way, and let thetrifling joys, thegewgawhappiness ofFeliciana, teach you how wise they are, what delusion they escape, whose hearts and hopes are fixed upon happiness in God.
If you was to live withFelicianabut one half year, you would see all the happiness that she is to have as long as she lives. She has no more to come, but the poor repetition of that which could never have pleased once, but thro’ a littleness of mind, and want of thought.
She is to be again dressed fine, and keep her visiting-day. She is again to change the colour of hercloaths, again to have a newhead. She is again to see who acts best at theplayhouse, and who sings finest at theopera. She is again to make ten visits in a day, and be ten times in a day trying to talk artfully, easily, and politely, about nothing.
She is to be again delighted with some new fashion, and again angry at the change of some old one. She is to be again at cards, and gaming at midnight, and again in bed at noon. She is to be again pleased with hypocritical compliments, and again disturbed with imaginary affronts. She is to be again delighted with her good luck atgaming, and again tormented with the loss of her money. She is again to prepare herself for a birth-night, and again to see the town full of good company. She is again to hear the cabals and intrigues of the town, again to have secret intelligence of private amours, and early notice of marriages, quarrels and partings.
If you see her come out of her chariot more briskly than usual, converse with more spirit, and seem fuller of joy than she was last week, it is because there is some surprising new dress, or new diversion just come to town.
10. These are all thesubstantialandregularparts ofFeliciana’s happiness; and she never knew a pleasant day in her life, but it was owing to some one, or more, of these things.
It is for this happiness, that she has always been deaf to the reasonings of religion, that her heart has been too gay and chearful to consider what isrightorwrongin regard to eternity; or to listen to the sound of such dull words, aswisdom,piety, anddevotion.
It is for fear of losing some of this happiness, that she dares not meditate on the immortalityof her soul, consider her relation to God, or turn her thoughts towards those joys, which make saints and angels infinitely happy in the presence and glory of God.
But let it be observed, that as poor a round of happiness as this appears, yet most women that avoid the restraints of religion for a gay life, must be content with very small parts of it. As they have notFeliciana’s fortune; so they must give away the comforts of a pious life, for a very small part of her happiness.
11. And if you look into the world, and observe the lives of those women, whom no arguments can persuade to live wholly unto God, you will find most of them such, as lose all the comforts of religion without gaining the tenth part ofFeliciana’s happiness. They are such as spend their times and fortunes only in mimicking the pleasures of richer people; and rather look and long after, than enjoy those delusions, which are not to be purchased but by considerable fortunes.
But if a woman ofhighbirth andgreatfortune, having read the gospel, should rather wish to be anunder servantin some pious family, where wisdom, piety, and great devotion, directed all the actions of every day; if she should rather wish this, than to live at the top ofFeliciana’s happiness, I should think her neithermadnormelancholy; but that she judged as rightly of the spirit of the gospel, as if she had ratherwished to bepoor Lazarusat the gate, than to be the rich mancloathed in purple and fine linen, and faring sumptuously every day.
*But to proceed, would you know what an happiness it is, to be governed by the wisdom of religion, look at the poor condition ofSuccus, whose greatest happiness is agood night’s rest in bed, and agood mealwhen he is up. When he talks of happiness, it is always in such expressions as shews you, that he has only his bed and his dinner in his thoughts.
This regard to hismealsandrepose, makesSuccusorder all the rest of his time with relation to them. He will undertake no business that may hurry his spirits, or break in upon his hours ofeatingandrest. If he reads, it shall be only for half an hour, because that is sufficient to amuse the spirits; and he will read something that may make him laugh, as rendering the body fitter for itsfoodandrest; or, if he has a mind at any time to indulge a grave thought, he has recourse to a useful treatise upon the♦ancient cookery.Succusis an enemy to allparty matters, having made it an observation, that there is as good eating amongst thewhigsas thetories.
♦‘antient’ replaced with ‘ancient’
He talks coolly and moderately upon all subjects, and is as fearful of falling into a passion, as of catching cold; being very positive they are both equally injurious to thestomach. If ever you see him more hot than ordinary, it isupon some provoking occasion, when the dispute about cookery runs high, or in the defence of some beloved dish, which has often made him happy. But he has been so long upon these subjects, is so well acquainted with all that can be said on both sides, and has so often answered all objections, that he generally decides the matter with great gravity.
Succusis very loyal, and as soon as ever he likes any wine, he drinks the king’s health with all his heart. Nothing could put rebellious thoughts into his head, unless he should live to see a proclamation against eating ofpheasant’seggs.
♦13. All the hours that are not devoted either toreposeornourishment, are looked upon bySuccusaswasteorspare time. For this reason he lodges near acoffee-houseand atavern, that when he rises in the morning he may be near thenews, and when he parts at night, he may not have far to go to bed. In the morning you always see him in the same place in thecoffee-room; and if he seems more attentively engaged than ordinary, it is because somecriminalis broke out ofnewgate, or someladywas robbed last night, but they can’t tell where. When he has learnt all that he can, he goes home to settle the matter with the barber’s boy that comes to shave him.
♦Number 12 omitted in text.
The nextwaste timethat lies upon his hands, is from dinner to supper; and if melancholythoughts ever come into his head, it is at this time, when he is often left to himself for an hour or more, and that after the greatest pleasure he knows is just over. He is afraid to sleep, because he has heard it is not healthful at that time; so that he is forced to refuse so welcome a guest.
But here he is soon relieved by a settled method of playing at cards, till it is time to think of some little, nice matter for supper.
After thisSuccustakes his glass, talks of the excellency of theEnglish constitution, and praises thatministerthe most, who keeps the best table.
On aSundaynight you may sometimes hear him condemning the iniquity oftown rakes; and the bitterest thing that he says against them is this, that he verily believes, some of them are so abandoned, as not to have aregular meal, or asound night’s sleep, in a week.
At elevenSuccusbids all good night, and parts in great friendship. He is presently in bed, and sleeps till it is time to go to thecoffee-housenext morning.
If you was to live withSuccusfor a twelvemonth, this is all that you would see in his life, except a fewcursesandoathsthat he uses as occasion offers.
And now I cannot help making this reflection:
14. That as I believe the most likely means in the world to inspire a person with true piety,was to have seen the example of some eminent professors of religion: so the next thing that is likely to fill us with the same zeal, is to see thefolly, thebaseness, and poor satisfactions of a life destitute of religion. As the one excites us to love and admire the wisdom and greatness of religion; so the other may make us fearful of living without it.
For who can help blessing God for themeans of grace, and for thehope of glory, when he sees what variety of folly they sink into, who live without it? Who would not heartily engage in all the labours of a pious life, when he sees whatdullsensuality, whatgrossenjoyments they are left to, who seek for happiness in other ways?
So that whether we consider the greatness of religion, or the littleness of all other things, and the meanness of all other enjoyments, there is nothing to be found in the whole nature of things for a thoughtful mind to rest upon, but a happiness in religion.
15. Consider now with yourself, how unreasonably, it is pretended that a life of strict piety must be adullandanxiousstate? For, can it with any reason be said that the duties of religion render our lives heavy and melancholy, when they only deprive us of such happiness as has been here laid before you?
Must it be tedious to live in the continual exercise of charity and temperance, to act wiselyand virtuously, to do good to the utmost of your power, to imitate the divine perfections, and prepare yourself for the enjoyment of God? Must it be dull and tiresome to improve in holiness, to feel the comforts of conscience in all your actions, to know that God is your friend, that all must work for your good; that neither life nor death, neither men nor devils can do you any harm; but that all your sufferings and doings, are in a short time to be rewarded with everlasting glory: must such a state bedullandtiresome, for want of such happiness asFlatusorFelicianaenjoys?
Now, if this cannot be said, then there is no happiness lost, by being strictly pious; nor has the devout man any thing to envy in any other state of life. For all the art and contrivances in the world, without religion, cannot make more of human life, or carry its happiness to any greater height, thanFlatusorFelicianahas done.
The finestwit, the greatestgeniusupon earth, if not governed by religion, must be asfoolish, andlow, andvain, in his method of happiness, as thepoor Succus.
16. *If you was to see a man dully endeavouring all his life to satisfy his thirst, by holding up one and the sameempty cupto his mouth, you would certainly despise his ignorance.
*But, if you should see others, ofbrighter parts, andfiner understandings, ridiculing the dull satisfaction ofone cup, and thinking to satisfy their own thirst by variety of gilt andgolden empty cups; would you think that these were ever thewiser, orhappier, orbetteremployed, for theirfiner parts?
*Now, this is all the difference that you can see in the happiness of this life.
Thedullandheavysoul may be content with oneempty appearanceof happiness, and be continually trying to hold thesame empty cupto his mouth all his life. But let thewit, thedeep scholar, thefine genius, the greatstatesman, the politegentleman, lay all their heads together, and they can only shew youmoreandvarious,empty appearancesof happiness; give them all the world into their hands, let them cut and carve as they please, they can only make a greater variety ofempty cups.
*So that if you don’t think it hard to be deprived of the pleasures ofgluttony, for the sake of religion, you have no reason to think it hard to be restrained from any worldly pleasure. For search as deep, and look as far as you will, there is nothing here to be found, that isnobler, orgreater, thanhigh eatinganddrinking, unless you look for it in the wisdom of religion.
And if all that is in the world, are only so manyempty cups, what does it signify which you take, or how many?
17. If you would but use yourself to such meditations as these, to reflect upon the vanity ofall ordersof life without piety, to consider how all the ways of the world, are only so many different ways of error, blindness, and mistake; these meditations would awaken your soul into a zealous desire of that solid happiness which is only to be found in recourse to God.
18. To meditate upon the perfection of the divine attributes, to contemplate the glories of heaven, to consider the joys of saints and angels living for ever in the brightness and glory of the divine presence; these are the meditations of souls advanced in piety, and not suited to every capacity.
But to see and consider theemptinessand error of all worldly happiness, to see thegrossnessofsensuality, thepoornessof pride, thestupidityof covetousness, thevanityof dress, theblindnessof our passions, theuncertaintyof our lives, and theshortnessof all worldly projects; these are meditations that are suited to all capacities. They require no depth of thought, or sublime speculation; but are forced upon us by all our senses, and taught by almost every thing that we see and hear.
This is thatWisdom that crieth, and putteth forth her voice in the streets,Prov.viii.1. that standeth at all our doors, that appealeth to all our senses, teaching us in every thing and every where, by all that we see, and all that we hear, by births♦and burials, by sickness and health, by life and death, by pains and poverty, by misery and vanity, and by all the changes of life; that there is nothing else for man to look after, no other end in nature for him to drive at, but a happiness in religion.
♦duplicate word removed ‘and’