What a pity it is that we have no amusements in England but vice

Hear, O seekers of wit and wisdom, the words of Sydney Smith, the sharp-tongued preacher and humorist of the nineteenth century, who declared: “What a pity it is that we have no amusements in England but vice and religion!” Though framed with jest, his words reveal a lament both profound and piercing. For he looked upon his society and saw a people trapped between two extremes: the stern severity of dogma on one side, and the reckless abandon of corruption on the other. What he mourned was not the existence of faith nor even the presence of folly, but the absence of wholesome joy, of innocent delight, of pastimes that nourished both body and soul.

The origin of this saying lies in Smith’s own life as a clergyman of the Church of England, who was yet no dour ascetic. He was a man who valued laughter, friendship, and good company, even while wearing the robes of the pulpit. He saw in his homeland a narrowness, where respectable life was bound by rigid religion, and where release was sought only in indulgence of vice. Where, he asked, were the simple amusements, the noble arts, the joyous festivals, the pure pleasures that lift the human spirit without staining it? His jest, then, was an indictment of a culture that had forgotten how to play.

Consider the deeper meaning. A society that knows only religion and vice is a society unbalanced. Religion, when severed from joy, becomes a cage of austerity. Vice, when untempered by virtue, becomes a pit of ruin. Between these poles lies the middle ground of wholesome amusements—music, fellowship, learning, games, the arts—that make life not only bearable but beautiful. Smith’s lament was not against faith nor even against pleasure, but against a false choice between severity and corruption. He longed for a people who could find delight without sin and reverence without gloom.

History offers examples of this imbalance. In Puritan England, theaters were closed, festivals were suppressed, and dancing in the village green was condemned. The people were taught that joy itself was dangerous, that laughter was a companion of the devil. And what was the result? When repression grew too great, men and women turned not to holiness but to secret indulgences, seeking in hidden taverns and back alleys what they were denied in daylight. Thus, as Smith observed, without noble amusements, society falls into the arms of vice or becomes chained by a joyless religion.

Think also of other lands where rulers understood better. In ancient Athens, religion and amusement were woven together: the festivals of Dionysus gave birth to drama, tragedy, and comedy, where the people celebrated both gods and human genius. In Rome, though corrupted in excess, the games began as a unifying force, a way to blend leisure and civic pride. Where amusements are rightly cultivated, they serve as a balm for the spirit, a school for the mind, and a bond for the people. Where they are absent, extremity takes root.

The lesson, then, is this: human beings need joy, laughter, and shared delight as much as they need worship and discipline. To deny this need is to distort life; to indulge it recklessly is to destroy life. Therefore, the wise society and the wise soul will cultivate pure amusements: music that uplifts, games that strengthen, stories that inspire, and friendships that heal. These are not trivial things, but sacred supports of human flourishing.

Practical wisdom follows. Make space for joy in your life that does not corrode the soul. Balance devotion with delight, so that your spirit is not bent with severity. Choose amusements that nourish—walks in nature, music, art, laughter with friends—so that your leisure strengthens you for duty. And above all, beware the false choice that Sydney Smith mocked: life need not be divided between vice and religion alone. There is a third path, the path of wholesome joy, where the heart may rest, renew, and rise again to the challenges of the day.

Thus, let his words endure not only as satire, but as counsel. For a people who forget how to rejoice fall either into corruption or into chains. But a people who cultivate good amusements alongside their faith will find life rich, balanced, and enduring. So live not in extremes, but in harmony, and let your joy be as pure as your devotion.