2. *As, for instance, when a man proposes to be happy in ways of ambition, by raising himself to some imaginary heights above other people. This is an invention of 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 by climbing up a ladder.

*If a woman seeks for happiness from fine colours or spots upon her face, from jewels and rich cloaths, this is as merely an invention of happiness, as contrary to nature and reason, as if she should propose to make herself happy, by painting a post, and putting the same finery upon it. It is in this respect that I call these mere inventions of 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.

3. *Look at Flatus, and learn how miserable they are, who are left to the folly of their own passions.

Flatus is 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 cloaths was his delight. His enquiry was only after the best taylors and peruke-makers; and he had no thoughts of excelling in any thing but dress. He spared no expence, but carried every nicety to its greatest height. But this happiness not answering his expectations, he left off his brocades, put on a plain coat, railed at fops and beaux, and gave himself up to gaming with great eagerness.

4. The next thing that seized his wandering imagination, was the diversions of the town; and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard him talk of nothing but ladies, drawing-rooms, birth-nights, plays, balls, and assemblies; but growing sick of these, he had recourse to hard drinking. 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 a fever, he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave of the happiness of being drunk.

5. Now he invents new kinds of dovecoats, and has such contrivances in his barns and stables, as were never seen before. He wonders at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement of architecture, 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 his brick and mortar, than ever he had at court: 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 great student for one whole year. He was up early and late at his Italian grammar, that he might have the happiness of understanding the opera, and not be like those unreasonable people, that are pleased with they don’t know what.

Flatus is 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 his riding regimen, or begun to excel in sounding the horn, you had been saluted with great civility.

But here a new project comes in to his relief. He is now living upon herbs, and running about the country, to get himself in as good wind as any running footman in 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 at sea, the more particular I was in the account, the more I should make you feel and rejoice in the happiness of living upon the land.

In like manner, the more I enumerate the follies, 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 of Flatus, 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.

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 were twenty years old, what at twenty-five, what at thirty, what at forty, what at fifty, 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 of Flatus.

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 the generality of people are not of such restless, fickle tempers as Flatus, the difference is only this, Flatus is continually changing and trying something new, but others are content with some one state; they don’t leave gaming, and then fall to hunting, but follow one or the other all their life. Some have so much steadiness in their tempers, that they seek after no other happiness, but that of heaping up riches; others grow old in the sports of the field; others are content to drink themselves to death, without the least enquiry after any other happiness.

Now, is there any thing more happy or reasonable, in such a life as this, than in the life of Flatus? Is it not as wise and happy, to be constantly changing from one thing to another, as to be nothing else but a gatherer of money, a hunter, a gamester, or a drunkard, all your life?

Shall religion be looked upon as a burden, as a dull and melancholy state, for calling men from such happiness as 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 the trifling joys, the gewgaw happiness of Feliciana, 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 with Feliciana but 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 her cloaths, again to have a new head. She is again to see who acts best at the playhouse, and who sings finest at the opera. 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 at gaming, 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 the substantial and regular parts of Feliciana’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 is right or wrong in regard to eternity; or to listen to the sound of such dull words, as wisdom, piety, and devotion.

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 not Feliciana’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 of Feliciana’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 to proceed, would you know what an happiness it is, to be governed by the wisdom of religion, look at the poor condition of Succus, whose greatest happiness is a good night’s rest in bed, and a good meal when 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.

Succus is 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 of pheasant’s eggs.

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 this Succus takes his glass, talks of the excellency of the English constitution, and praises that minister the most, who keeps the best table.

On a Sunday night you may sometimes hear him condemning the iniquity of town 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 a regular meal, or a sound night’s sleep, in a week.

At eleven Succus bids all good night, and parts in great friendship. He is presently in bed, and sleeps till it is time to go to the coffee-house next morning.

If you was to live with Succus for a twelvemonth, this is all that you would see in his life, except a few curses and oaths that he uses as occasion offers.

And now I cannot help making this reflection:

For who can help blessing God for the means of grace, and for the hope 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 what dull sensuality, what gross enjoyments 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 a dull and anxious state? 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?

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, than Flatus or Feliciana has done.

The finest wit, the greatest genius upon earth, if not governed by religion, must be as foolish, and low, and vain, in his method of happiness, as the poor Succus.

16. *If you was to see a man dully endeavouring all his life to satisfy his thirst, by holding up one and the same empty cup to his mouth, you would certainly despise his ignorance.

*But, if you should see others, of brighter parts, and finer understandings, ridiculing the dull satisfaction of one cup, and thinking to satisfy their own thirst by variety of gilt and golden empty cups; would you think that these were ever the wiser, or happier, or better employed, for their finer parts?

*Now, this is all the difference that you can see in the happiness of this life.

The dull and heavy soul may be content with one empty appearance of happiness, and be continually trying to hold the same empty cup to his mouth all his life. But let the wit, the deep scholar, the fine genius, the great statesman, the polite gentleman, lay all their heads together, and they can only shew you more and various, empty appearances of happiness; give them all the world into their hands, let them cut and carve as they please, they can only make a greater variety of empty cups.

*So that if you don’t think it hard to be deprived of the pleasures of gluttony, 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 is nobler, or greater, than high eating and drinking, unless you look for it in the wisdom of religion.

And if all that is in the world, are only so many empty 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 of all orders of 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 the emptiness and error of all worldly happiness, to see the grossness of sensuality, the poorness of pride, the stupidity of covetousness, the vanity of dress, the blindness of our passions, the uncertainty of our lives, and the shortness of 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.