people, demand seasons of relaxation. It is an observation of philosophers and physicians, and it is too obvious, indeed, to need their authority, that, in proportion as public sports and games die out among a people, it loses flexibility of nerve, strength of muscle, and the power of adaptation to the various emergencies of war, danger, and difficulty, such as life is continually throwing in our path. And the mind, in like manner, is liable to become too rigid and contracted in the perpetual effort to grasp the same objects, the same studies. It is liable to want flexibility, to want expansion. It is likely to become the residence of low conceit, of rooted prejudice, of a stern creed and a sour bigotry:

If these general observations are just, they certainly do not lose any of their propriety in application to us. We are said to be a people, more eagerly than any other in the world, devoted to the accumulation of property. We are charged, also, with what is called a republican tendency to vulgarity of habits, and manners, and ways of thinking. It is intimated that everything wants freedom and expansion among us, but our good opinion of ourselves; that our mind, our manners, and our very speech, are pressed down and contracted under some weight, either of general example or public opinion; and something, I confess, has occurred to narrow and flatten our national speech and tone from the force and fullness of the noble English dialect. And as to the asperity both of political and religious disputes, the bondage of prejudice, and the bitterness of party spirit, it is common to acknowledge that we have quite enough of them among us.

I confess, at any rate, that I so far yield to the truth of these allegations and admissions, as to think it desirable that more cheerfulness, more liberality, more freedom of mind from the anxieties of business, and a more expansive social feeling, should be introduced into our national character. This expansion of social feeling we are particularly liable to want. The tendencies of society among us are to excessive private and domestic ambition, to reserve, jealousy, and distrust. Seasons of public amusement, in which all classes engaged, would tend to break up social clanships, and to soothe angry collisions. It has been said that the holiday sports of the old time are dying out in England; partly from the prevalence of a more jealous and aristocratic spirit in the upper classes. So long as those classes were fenced around with exclusive and undisputed titles to respect, they had no fear of compromising their dignity by mixing freely with the people and with their pleasures. But as these imprescriptible titles are falling before the march of modern reform, their possessors are surrounding themselves with other barriers; and the strongest barrier they could seek, is found in the reserve of their manners. The same causes are at work in this country, and they work in absolute freedom from all the modifying influences of hereditary rank and entailed estates. A distinguished writer abroad once said, in conversation, "You, in America, are the most aristocratic people in the world." I was startled withi the observation, but I confess there is some truth in it. The fear of compromising one's dignity in our society, the fear of what others will say, the consciousness of being amenable to public opinion, makes men jealous, reserved, and distant; it acts, in fact, as a restriction upon the whole freedom of private life and feeling. The consequence is, I know,

that it is extremely difficult to introduce public holiday amusements in our country; but it is equally, and none the less certain that they are very much needed to spread a common and a kindly feeling abroad among the people, and to counteract the tendencies to social exclusiveness, pride, and dissension. And the day may come when we shall find these tendencies more dangerous to our prosperity, and to our very union as a people, than any levity, aye, or any vices, engendered by public amusements. Nay, and if the miseries of life are proper subjects to be dealt with by the moralist, this is such a subject. For I have no doubt, that directly or indirectly, one half of the miseries of life in our country spring from pride and competition, and from the extravagance in expenses, and the irritations of feeling, consequent upon them.

There is another view in which the subject of amusements, light as it may be thought, goes deep into all questions about our national improvement and happiness. We are making great efforts in America to bring about various moral reforms. At the head of these enterprises stands the temperance reformation. And the public attention, as was natural in the appalling circumstances of the case, has been very much occupied with the immediate evil, and the obvious methods of supplying the remedy. But it seems to me that it is time to go deeper into this matter, and to inquire how the reform is to be carried on and sustained in the country. "By embodying the entire nation in a temperance society," will it be said? I think not, even if that point could be gained. We must have some stronger bond than that of formal association, some stronger provision than that of temporary habit to rely We must lay the foundations of permanent reform in the principles of human nature, and in the very framework of society. Suppose that this nation and every individual in it, were now temperate, how are they to be kept so? The zeal of individuals in this cause will die away; the individuals themselves will die; how is the people, supposing it were made temperate, to be kept so? There was a time, in former days, when our people were all temperate-when a small bottle of strong waters sufficed for a whole army-when, that is to say, ardent spirits were used only as a medicine. Why, from those early days of pristine virtue and rigid piety, did the nation fall away into intemperance? And how, I ask again, are we to expect to stand, where our fathers fell?

on.

In answer to this question, let me observe, that there is, in human nature, and never to be rooted out of it, a want of excitement and exhilaration. The cares and labours of life often leave the mind dull, and when it is relieved from them-and it must be relieved-let this be remembered-there must be seasons of relief, and the question is, how are these seasons to be filled up-when the mind enjoys relief from its occupations, I say, that relief must come in the shape of something cheering and exhilarating. The man cannot sit down dull and stupid -and he ought not. Now, suppose that society provides him with no cheerful or attractive recreations, that society, in fact, frowns upon all amusements; that the importunate spirit in business, and the sanctimonious spirit in religion, and the supercilious spirit in fashion, all unite to discountenance popular sports and spectacles, and thus, that all cheap and free enjoyments, the hale, hearty, holiday recreations are out of use, and out of reach-what now will the man, set free from

business or labour, be likely to do? He asks for relief and exhilaration, he asks for escape from his cares and anxieties; society in its arrangements offers him none; the tavern and the ale-house propose to supply the want; what so likely as that he will resort to the tavern and the ale-house? I have no doubt that one reason why our country fell into such unusual intemperance, was the want of simple, innocent, and authorised recreations in it. I am fully persuaded that some measure of this sort is needful, to give a natural and stable character to the temperance reform.

The reason why the French are not intemperate, is not, as is commonly thought, that their only drink is wine. They have brandy, eau de vie, and it is everywhere drank, but usually in moderation. And the reason of this is partly to be found, I believe, in their cheerfulness, in their sports and spectacles, in the resorts everywhere provided for simple entertainment.

The same principle is thought to be applicable to the late progress of intemperance in England. With reference to this point, I extract one or two passages from the London Morning Chronicle.

"The evidence taken by the select committee on drunkenness, proves but too clearly the proposition, that the want of agreeable occupation is the great cause of that beastly vice, the disgrace of our nation. Savages are uniformly found disposed to intoxication, which enables them to escape from the insufferable burden of listlessness. All sorts of mental cultivation-whatever occupies the mind agreeably-counteracts the tendency to drunkenness. Mr. George Garrington, of Great Missenden, Bucks, the son of an acting magistrate, whose evidence is communicated by Mr. Chadwick, says, If the labourer is suffered to go from his daily work like a farm-horse, with nothing of his own to think about, he will find amusement for himself in some way or other, and will fall into bad habits. I need not enlarge on the evils of the public-house and the beer-shop.' Some very curious evidence of working people who had been in France, Switzerland, and Germany, taken under the factory commission, illustrates the beneficial tendency of the liberty enjoyed in these countries by the poor."

66

Again: But though we contend that in no case ought the use of anything not positively noxious to be prohibited on account of possible abuse, and that in matters of eating and drinking, the legislature ought never to interfere with individual liberty; we are not the less sensible, that of all indulgences, that of drinking to excess is the most pernicious. The drunkard is not only miserable himself, but he is a nuisance to all with whom he is connected. He is a bad servant, a bad father, and a bad husband; and when he has once passed the Rubicon, he is, we believe, utterly irreclaimable. This we know, that no consideration would ever induce us to give any employment to a man or woman addicted to drunkenness; and the most charitable wish we could utter for a drunkard would be, that his life should be as short as possible. But drunkenness is the vice of people who are listless, and betake themselves to the bottle for relief. The individuals most addicted to drunkenness are not the gay and the cheerful—the men whose minds are occupied with any pursuit, whether study or diversion; but the heavy-the phlegmatic. It is the same with nations. The nations that cultivate music and dancing are comparatively sober.

It was

remarked during the Peninsular war, that the German soldiers, who had a variety of amusements, were never drunk on duty; while the great difficulty was to keep an English soldier from the wine-house. The Germans are naturally as heavy a people as ourselves-they were once notorious for their deep potations. They are now comparatively sober. In every village are to be found music clubs. The song and the dance are frequent. But no people are more careful or industrious than the Germans."

Let it not be said, as if it were a fair reply to all this, that men are intemperate in the midst of their recreations. The question is not what they do, with their vicious habits already acquired, but how they came by these habits; and the question again is not, whether a man may not fall into inebriety, amidst the purest recreations as well as when away from them, but what he is likely to do. In short, to do justice to the argument, it should be supposed that a people is perfectly temperate, and then may fairly be considered the question-how it is most likely to be kept so. It is certain that there is no natural appetite for spirituous drinks; but for sports and spectacles, for music and dancing, for games and theatrical representations, there is a natural inclination: and an inclination, which, though often perverted, must be allowed, in the original elements, to be perfectly innocent-as innocent as the sportiveness of a child, or its love of beautiful colours and fine shows. But grant that the tendencies to intemperance were equally natural and strong: yet, I say, if there were among any people, authorised holidays, and holiday sports, if there were evening assemblies, and a pure theatre -if there were in every village a public promenade, where music might frequently be heard in the evening, would not these places be likely to draw away many from the resorts of intemperance? I confess, when I have seen of other nations, tens and hundreds of thousands abroad in the public places, without any rudeness or riot among them, without one single indication of inebriety in all the crowd; when I have seen this again and again, day after day, I have asked what there is to prevent our own more intelligent people from conducting themselves with similar propriety. In seven months upon the Continent of Europe, though living amidst crowds-though living in taverns, in hotels, in public-houses, I have not seen four intoxicated persons! But I have seen in parks, and gardens, and places of public assembly, millions of persons, exhilarated by music, by spectacles, by scenery, flowers, and fragrance, cheerful without rudeness, and gay without excess. There are moralists and preachers among us, who tell us that we enjoy great advantages in our freedom from European amusements; but I very

much doubt it.

In saying this, I do not shut my eyes to the dangers that spring from recreation; but I think those dangers are greater, for the ban that is laid on the little recreation there is among us. Some, indeed, are prevented from partaking of it; but they probably are no better for their abstinence, and may be worse. They may be not a whit more virtuous, and only something more proud and uncharitable. Another class of persons does partake, but partly by stealth, and with a wounded conscience; and is just as bad as if it were doing wrong, though it be actually doing right. Another class still partakes and holds it right to do so, and so is not sinning against its own conscience; but I submit,

whether amusements which are not authorised by the public religious sentiment of a country, are not likely to do some injury to those who insist, however conscientiously, upon enjoying them. Will not pleasures be apt to be taken in excess, which are taken in the spirit of defiance? And if not, yet will not those who partake of fashionable amusements be likely to rank themselves with the irreligious, and insensibly to set aside the obligations of religion? Are they not found saying sometimes, when those obligations are urged upon them, "that all that may be well enough for such and such persons; but for their part that they do not pretend to be very strict, or religious?" What must be the state of that man who feels as if it were a sort of hypocrisy in him to pray? There is a principle of consistency in every mind, which leads it to endeavour to act up to its assumed character. What better can we expect, then, than that he who assumes to be of an irreligious class, should be irreligious? We talk much about parties in this country. There are no parties among us, possessed of such deep-seated, mutual dislike, and doing so much mutual injury, as the religious and irreligious parties!

in

But it may be said, and probably will, by some, "We are afraid of holidays; we do not quite like to have this language of patronage and indulgence extended to amusements; the world is thoughtless enough and bad enough already; the human passions are outrunning all control every direction; restraint, restraint, restraint, is what mankind want in everything!" Really, I must beg that those who undertake to speak on this subject, would give us something besides their vague impressions and inapplicable suggestions. Let them take some decided ground. Let them tell us what they would have. Men cannot labour or do business always. They must have intervals of relaxation. What is to be done with these intervals? This is the question, and it is a question to be soberly answered. It is to be met, I repeat, with answers, and not with surmises of danger. Men cannot sleep through these intervals. What are they to do? Why, if they do not work, or sleep, they must have recreation. And if they have not recreation from healthful sources, they will be very likely to take it from the poisoned fountains of intemperance. Or, if they have pleasures, which, though innocent, are forbidden by the maxims of public morality, their very pleasures are liable to become poisoned fountains. Is it possible to resist these conclusions?

True, we all wish to see a virtuous and happy society. The question is, how is such a society to be formed? Is it to be done by excluding all amusements from it? Is it possible that that mixture of healthful labour and cheering recreation, which seems so evidently Heaven's ordination since it is man's necessity, should be wrong? Can that be in itself wrong, which belonged to the very system of Jewish polity ordained by Heaven? I have said that the question is, how a virtuous and happy society is to be formed. But I am not sure that the real, ultimate question, after all, is not rather this, what is a virtuous and happy society? I am not sure but a very common opinion in the country, on this subject, is one which would exclude from its chosen sphere of life, all amusement, properly so called-that is to say, all games, sports, and spectacles. I am not sure but there are many, who, honestly and conscientiously thinking much of another world, and little of this, or thinking of this only as a wilderness of temptations, do