_Question_. What do you think of the sacredness of the Sabbath?
_Answer_. I think all days, all times and all seasons are alike
sacred. I think the best day in a man's life is the day that he
is truly the happiest. Every day in which good is done to humanity
is a holy day.
If I were to make a calendar of sacred days, I would put down the
days in which the greatest inventions came to the mind of genius;
the days when scattered tribes became nations; the days when good
laws were passed; the days when bad ones were repealed; the days
when kings were dethroned, and the people given their own; in other
words, every day in which good has been done; in which men and
women have truly fallen in love, days in which babes were born
destined to change the civilization of the world. These are all
sacred days; days in which men have fought for the right, suffered
for the right, died for the right; all days in which there were
heroic actions for good. The day when slavery was abolished in
the United States is holier than any Sabbath by reason of "divine
consecration."
Of course, I care nothing about the sacredness of the Sabbath
because it was hallowed in the Old Testament, or because of that
day Jehovah is said to have rested from his labors. A space of
time cannot be sacred, any more than a vacuum can be sacred, and
it is rendered sacred by deeds done in it, and not in and of itself.
If we should finally invent some means of traveling by which we
could go a thousand miles a day, a man could escape Sunday all his
life by traveling West. He could start Monday, and stay Monday
all the time. Or, if he should some time get near the North Pole,
he could walk faster than the earth turns and thus beat Sunday all
the while.
_Question_. Should not the museums and art galleries be thrown
open to the workingmen free on Sunday?
_Answer_. Undoubtedly. In all civilized countries this is done,
and I believe it would be done in New York, only it is said that
money has been given on condition that the museums should be kept
closed on Sundays. I have always heard it said that large sums
will be withheld by certain old people who have the prospect of
dying in the near future if the museums are open on Sunday.
This, however, seems to me a very poor and shallow excuse. Money
should not be received under such conditions. One of the curses
of our country has been the giving of gifts to colleges on certain
conditions. As, for instance, the money given to Andover by the
original founder on the condition that a certain creed be taught,
and other large amounts have been given on a like condition. Now,
the result of this is that the theological professor must teach
what these donors have indicated, or go out of the institution; or
--and this last "or" is generally the trouble--teach what he does
not believe, endeavoring to get around it by giving new meaning to
old words.
I think the cause of intellectual progress has been much delayed
by these conditions put in the wills of supposed benefactors, so
that after they are dead they can rule people who have the habit
of being alive. In my opinion, a corpse is a poor ruler, and after
a man is dead he should keep quiet.
Of course all that he did will live, and should be allowed to have
its natural effect. If he was a great inventor or discoverer, or
if he uttered great truths, these became the property of the world;
but he should not endeavor, after he is dead, to rule the living
by conditions attached to his gifts.
All the museums and libraries should be opened, not only to
workingmen, but to all others. If to see great paintings, great
statues, wonderful works of art; if to read the thoughts of the
greatest men--if these things tend to the civilization of the race,
then they should be put as nearly as possible within the reach of
all.
The man who works eight or ten or twelve hours a day has not time
during the six days of labor to visit libraries or museums. Sunday
is his day of leisure, his day of recreation, and on that day he
should have the privilege, and he himself should deem it a right
to visit all the public libraries and museums, parks and gardens.
In other words, I think the laboring man should have the same rights
on Sundays, to say the least of it, that wealthy people have on
other days. The man of wealth has leisure. He can attend these
places on any day he may desire; but necessity being the master of
the poor man, Sunday is his one day for such a purpose. For men
of wealth to close the museums and libraries on that day, shows
that they have either a mistaken idea as to the well-being of their
fellow-men, or that they care nothing about the rights of any except
the wealthy.
Personally, I have no sort of patience with the theological snivel
and drivel about the sacredness of the Sabbath. I do not understand
why they do not accept the words of their own Christ, namely, that
"the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath."
The hypocrites of Judea were great sticklers for the Sabbath, and
the orthodox Christians of New York are exactly the same. My own
opinion is that a man who has been at work all the week, in the
dust and heat, can hardly afford to waste his Sunday in hearing an
orthodox sermon--a sermon that gives him the cheerful intelligence
that his chances for being damned are largely in the majority. I
think it is far better for the workingman to go out with his family
in the park, into the woods, to some German garden, where he can
hear the music of Wagner, or even the waltzes of Strauss, or to
take a boat and go down to the shore of the sea. I think than in
summer a few waves of the ocean are far more refreshing then all
the orthodox sermons of the world.
As a matter of fact, I believe the preachers leave the city in the
summer and let the Devil do his worst. Whether it is believed that
the Devil has less power in warm weather, I do not know. But I do
know that, as the mercury rises, the anxiety about souls decreases,
and the hotter New York becomes, the cooler hell seems to be.
I want the workingman, no matter what he works at--whether at
doctoring people, or trying law suits, or running for office--to
have a real good time on Sunday. He, of course, must be careful
not to interfere with the rights of others. He ought not to play
draw-poker on the steps of a church; neither should he stone a
Chinese funeral, nor go to any excesses; but all the week long he
should have it in his mind: Next Sunday I am going to have a good
time. My wife and I and the children are going to have a happy
time. I am going out with the girl I like; or my young man is
going to take me to the picnic. And this thought, and this hope,
of having a good time on Sunday--of seeing some great pictures at
the Metropolitan Art Gallery--together with a good many bad ones--
will make work easy and lighten the burden on the shoulders of toil.
I take a great interest, too, in the working women--particularly
in the working woman. I think that every workingman should see to
it that every working woman has a good time on Sunday. I am no
preacher. All I want is that everybody should enjoy himself in a
way that he will not and does not interfere with the enjoyment of
others.
It will not do to say that we cannot trust the people. Our Government
is based upon the idea that the people can be trusted, and those
who say that the workingmen cannot be trusted, do not believe in
Republican or Democratic institutions. For one, I am perfectly
willing to trust the working people of the country. I do, every
day. I trust the engineers on the cars and steamers. I trust the
builders of houses. I trust all laboring men every day of my life,
and if the laboring people of the country were not trustworthy--if
they were malicious or dishonest--life would not be worth living.
--_The Journal_, New York, June 6, 1890.