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.