Sunday Under Three Heads | Page 7

acceptable to
God than the TRUE AND SINCERE worship of Him according to His
holy will, and that it is the bounden duty of Parliament to promote the
observance of the Lord's day, by protecting every class of society
against being required to sacrifice their comfort, health, religious
privileges, and conscience, for the convenience, enjoyment, or
supposed advantage of any other class on the Lord's day'! The idea of
making a man truly moral through the ministry of constables, and
sincerely religious under the influence of penalties, is worthy of the
mind which could form such a mass of monstrous absurdity as this bill
is composed of.
The House of Commons threw the measure out certainly, and by so
doing retrieved the disgrace--so far as it could be retrieved--of placing
among the printed papers of Parliament, such an egregious specimen of

legislative folly; but there was a degree of delicacy and forbearance
about the debate that took place, which I cannot help thinking as
unnecessary and uncalled for, as it is unusual in Parliamentary
discussions. If it had been the first time of Sir Andrew Agnew's
attempting to palm such a measure upon the country, we might well
understand, and duly appreciate, the delicate and compassionate feeling
due to the supposed weakness and imbecility of the man, which
prevented his proposition being exposed in its true colours, and induced
this Hon. Member to bear testimony to his excellent motives, and that
Noble Lord to regret that he could not- -although he had tried to do
so--adopt any portion of the bill. But when these attempts have been
repeated, again and again; when Sir Andrew Agnew has renewed them
session after session, and when it has become palpably evident to the
whole House that
His impudence of proof in every trial, Kens no polite, and heeds no
plain denial -
it really becomes high time to speak of him and his legislation, as they
appear to deserve, without that gloss of politeness, which is all very
well in an ordinary case, but rather out of place when the liberties and
comforts of a whole people are at stake.
In the first place, it is by no means the worst characteristic of this bill,
that it is a bill of blunders: it is, from beginning to end, a piece of
deliberate cruelty, and crafty injustice. If the rich composed the whole
population of this country, not a single comfort of one single man
would be affected by it. It is directed exclusively, and without the
exception of a solitary instance, against the amusements and recreations
of the poor. This was the bait held out by the Hon. Baronet to a body of
men, who cannot be supposed to have any very strong sympathies in
common with the poor, because they cannot understand their sufferings
or their struggles. This is the bait, which will in time prevail, unless
public attention is awakened, and public feeling exerted, to prevent it.
Take the very first clause, the provision that no man shall be allowed to
work on Sunday--'That no person, upon the Lord's day, shall do, or hire,
or employ any person to do any manner of labour, or any work of his or
her ordinary calling.' What class of persons does this affect? The rich
man? No. Menial servants, both male and female, are specially
exempted from the operation of the bill. 'Menial servants' are among

the poor people. The bill has no regard for them. The Baronet's dinner
must be cooked on Sunday, the Bishop's horses must be groomed, and
the Peer's carriage must be driven. So the menial servants are put
utterly beyond the pale of grace;--unless indeed, they are to go to
heaven through the sanctity of their masters, and possibly they might
think even that, rather an uncertain passport.
There is a penalty for keeping open, houses of entertainment. Now,
suppose the bill had passed, and that half-a-dozen adventurous licensed
victuallers, relying upon the excitement of public feeling on the subject,
and the consequent difficulty of conviction (this is by no means an
improbable supposition), had determined to keep their houses and
gardens open, through the whole Sunday afternoon, in defiance of the
law. Every act of hiring or working, every act of buying or selling, or
delivering, or causing anything to be bought or sold, is specifically
made a separate offence--mark the effect. A party, a man and his wife
and children, enter a tea- garden, and the informer stations himself in
the next box, from whence he can see and hear everything that passes.
'Waiter!' says the father. 'Yes. Sir.' 'Pint of the best ale!' 'Yes, Sir.'
Away runs the waiter to the bar, and gets the ale from the landlord. Out
comes the informer's note-book--penalty on the father for