England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century; Sunday
How different a picture would the streets and public places then present!
The museums, and repositories of scientific and useful inventions, would
be crowded with ingenious mechanics and industrious artisans, all anxious
for information, and all unable to procure it at any other time. The
spacious saloons would be swarming with practical men: humble in
appearance, but destined, perhaps, to become the greatest inventors and
philosophers of their age. The labourers who now lounge away the day in
idleness and intoxication, would be seen hurrying along, with cheerful
faces and clean attire, not to the close and smoky atmosphere of the
public-house but to the fresh and airy fields. Fancy the pleasant scene.
Throngs of people, pouring out from the lanes and alleys of the
metropolis, to various places of common resort at some short distance
from the town, to join in the refreshing sports and exercises of the
day—the children gambolling in crowds upon the grass, the mothers looking
on, and enjoying themselves the little game they seem only to direct;
other parties strolling along some pleasant walks, or reposing in the
shade of the stately trees; others again intent upon their different
amusements. Nothing should be heard on all sides, but the sharp stroke
of the bat as it sent the ball skimming along the ground, the clear ring
of the quoit, as it struck upon the iron peg: the noisy murmur of many
voices, and the loud shout of mirth and delight, which would awaken the
echoes far and wide, till the fields rung with it. The day would pass
away, in a series of enjoyments which would awaken no painful reflections
when night arrived; for they would be calculated to bring with them, only
health and contentment. The young would lose that dread of religion,
which the sour austerity of its professors too often inculcates in
youthful bosoms; and the old would find less difficulty in persuading
them to respect its observances. The drunken and dissipated, deprived of
any excuse for their misconduct, would no longer excite pity but disgust.
Above all, the more ignorant and humble class of men, who now partake of
many of the bitters of life, and taste but few of its sweets, would
naturally feel attachment and respect for that code of morality, which,
regarding the many hardships of their station, strove to alleviate its
rigours, and endeavoured to soften its asperity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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