Our Buccaneer from his earliest times had always kept his Sabbaths in a
manner peculiar to himself. He put on his best clothes and a long hat,
shut up all his shops but kept open his pot and public houses, and
allowed no other recreations than going to church and drinking. Six days
had his people to enjoy themselves and his tradesmen to adulterate their
different articles of merchandise, the seventh day he decreed should be
given up to worship and to pious meditations. All his museums were shut
up and all his picture galleries were closed, and his chief city would
have been like a city of the dead, if it had not been for the howling
mobs that occupied his parks, and other public places, and either
shouted sedition or spouted religion. Entire freedom of speech he
considered absolutely necessary to the entire freedom of the subject.
Many of his people who were not thus engaged passed their time in an
inoffensive manner in their favourite pot-house and boosed their holiday
away. This from a pecuniary point of view was very much more profitable
to the Buccaneer than the opening of any of his museums or libraries;
for from drink he derived a goodly income. It is sad, but it must be
owned that this rich man had his poor, and where there is poverty there
is discontent. The skirts of his garments did trail in the mud. The most
distressing thing about this Poverty is that she will bring forth and
increase, in an altogether unnecessary manner, thereby providing food
for the jail, the hangman, and in the end, the devil.
Some sinned in this respect who ought by example to have taught a better
lesson. It was no uncommon thing in the Buccaneer's island for one of
his priests to ascend the pulpit, and preach from there the efficacy,
and even necessity, of practising self denial. He would then descend
from his throne and point a moral to adorn his tale, by marrying and
bringing into the world a number of children that he had no visible
means of supporting; your priest's quiver is generally full, and he
seems at times to have a beautiful faith in God's mercy. Thinking,
perhaps, that as He fed the Israelites in the days of old, so would He
feed him and his numerous progeny now, with manna fresh from heaven.
It was said that our Buccaneer frequently forgot to look at home, and
raising his eyes over the heads of his own poor, fixed his sympathetic
gaze upon other people's. Perhaps he did experience a certain amount of
gratification at seeing his name at the head of subscription lists, when
any of his neighbours suffered from either fire, famine, or pestilence;
and to clothe the naked savage of the sunny south, where clothing,
except the smallest amount for decency's sake, is absolutely
unnecessary, seemed to be to him a more meritorous action than the
mending of the rags of his own poverty stricken people.
Then as if he had not enough poor of his own, all his neighbours paid a
flattering tribute to his good nature and generosity, by emptying their
human sweepings into his dust bin; until in time his island became--and
he prided himself upon the fact--an asylum for all the cut-throats,
thieves, blackguards, assassins and idiots of the whole world. Madam
Liberty had a good deal to say to this. But our Buccaneer, or fighting
trader as he had become, was generous even to his own poor in a
spasmodic kind of way, and when in his church he heard the oft told
story of Dives and Lazarus, it made him sympathetic and opened the
bowels of his compassion, and could he have laid hands upon that rascal
Dives he would have been made to suffer. This Dives does not appear,
however, to have been a monster of iniquity. The only sin he apparently
committed, was to fare sumptuously every day, and clothe himself in fine
linen. Who amongst us will not do the same if he has but the chance? Do
modern Christians live the life of anchorites? Does Dives never sit at
the priest's table? Did the Buccaneer's priesthood, from the head down,
eschew fine linen, and even at times gorgeous raiments? Do they turn
their faces against the luxury of the table on which delicacies
temptingly repose. Suppose the Buccaneer on his way home from his
devotions had found Lazarus on his door-step, would he have taken him
in? not a bit of it. He would have sent him quickly about his business,
and if he did not hurry himself the officer of the law would have been
called in and Lazarus would have been marched away as a rogue and
vagabond. Would the Buccaneer's high priest or any other of his
ecclesiastics have taken Lazarus in and washed his sores; tended to him,
and fed him? Yes, yes, but times have changed and the story of Lazarus
does very well as an example to hold up before the people for pious
admiration, but Lazarus' case does not apply to our present high state
of civilization, with all its complex social machinery for the benefit
of the poor. The proper place for Lazarus now would be the sick ward of
a poor house.
Having thus briefly sketched the early history of our Buccaneer or
fighting trader; his conversion, the manufacturing of his religion, and
the method he had of persuading the heathen to become Christians, it is
necessary to relate how he conducted his business. His old sea-faring
instincts stuck to him, and he moored on the river that flowed past his
principal city, a ship which he called the Ship of State, and by her
side he moored another, which he called his Church Ship, and these two
rode side by side and stemmed the current of time.
It could not be said that either of these ships were rapid sailers.
Indeed, both of them were somewhat bluff in the bows, but they were
excellent sea boats, and the old Ship of State had weathered many a
storm, and had experienced in her day much foul weather. Her figure-head
was a crown. Her crew all told numbered some six hundred and seventy
hands, and was divided into two watches, Starboard and Port, each having
its captain, lieutenants, petty officers, able and very ordinary seamen,
cooks, bottle-washers, swabbers, and adventurers. Of the latter there
were a goodly few in each watch, and they had but one star to steer by;
but that one was of the very first magnitude. These adventurers were a
very busy body of men, and by keeping up a great noise, and pushing
themselves to the front, they tried very hard to feather their nests, or
drop into some well-paid but sinecure office. They were frequently
successful.
In the after part of the Ship of State the Buccaneer had placed his
second or Upper Chamber, into which he sent all those of his sons who
had done well. Here they enjoyed in peace and extreme quiet their
well-earned repose. When thus shelved they were given titles, and were
frequently endowed out of the public purse. In early times some of the
members of the Upper Chamber had endowed themselves, but there were very
few of the old stock left. The principle that our Buccaneer had of
promoting his sons to the Upper Chamber was peculiar. It was not based
upon personal merit, nor at all times upon services rendered to the
State. Success in trade, or fidelity to a party, was generally
considered to be, by him, of the very first consideration.
The power that this Upper Chamber once had was extremely great, but now
all this had changed, and the old ship was worked entirely, or nearly
so, by whichever watch happened to be on duty. Besides, as will be
shown, the Upper Chamber had the misfortune to fall under the
displeasure of one of the ship's crew.
The Buccaneer dearly loved a lord, no matter whether he was spiritual or
temporal, and the women, with few exceptions, adored them without
distinction. There is perhaps too much obloquy bestowed upon the toady
and tuft hunter. Why should they be so despised? To love and revere the
great is surely a commendable action. Are they not the salt of the
earth? Sometimes, indeed, the salt has a little lost its flavour, but
what then? Much that is good must still remain, to which homage is due.
It is the birthright of those who, by their superior intelligence,
wisdom, and virtue, have placed themselves high up on pedestals, for
common humanity to bow down and worship them.
Who does not love a lord? This esteem for the great is universal. Even
the democratic cheap-Jack Jonathan dearly loved a lord; but as he had
none of his own he had to make the most he could out of other people's,
and he did. It was thought by many, that such a clever fellow as this
Jonathan would not be long without lords of his own; but that he would
manufacture a few out of the cheap shoddy that he always had on hand.
The Upper Chamber ought to have been extremely wise, and their councils
even inspired, for their deliberations were sanctified and leavened by
the presence amongst them of a certain number of Lords Spiritual. This
gave a sort of Divine authority to the great affairs of State. The
priest's kingdom is not of this world; it is therefore all the more
wonderful how in every age, and in every clime, he becomes clothed,
hemmed in, and perhaps hampered by temporal power, which no doubt he
wears as a garment of sackcloth and ashes.
The Church Hulk, which was moored on that side of the Ship of State away
from the shore, was commanded by the Buccaneer's High Priest, one
celebrated for his piety and learning. His crew was numerous and very
able, though at times a mutinous spirit showed itself on board when the
authority of the High Priest was openly defied; but then it must be
remembered that the church was a church militant, and the priests true
chips of the fighting old Buccaneer block. The power of the Buccaneer's
priesthood grew, and waxed in strength, and gained such an influence
over him that he was not allowed to do anything scarcely without their
sanction, and before he set out on any of his predatory expeditions he
always asked the blessing and the prayers of the church, and was very
seldom if ever refused. This practice is followed even now amongst
brigands, in certain parts. These picturesque cut-throats say their
prayers before their favourite shrine, and then sally out, slit a gullet
and steal a purse with a clear conscience, and take some of the spoil
back--if they be pious brigands--to their favourite shrine.
In time the Buccaneer's State Church became so extremely rich that
envious eyes were cast in her direction. Those on board of the old
Church Hulk denied her wealth, and they should have known. Some of her
crew were poor enough, heaven knows, and the Great Hat was constantly
sent round. The priest, he is by nature a beggar. It is perhaps one of
the few relics we have of that time, when a pure religion was planted by
a small band of mendicants, who had neither shoes upon their feet, nor
money in their scrips.
How beautiful is poverty at a distance. Songs have been sung in its
praise, but no one likes it. It pinches so, and in the Buccaneer's
island it was as the mark of Cain. There is something to be said on its
side though, for is it not written? "Happy are the poor, for theirs is
the kingdom of heaven." Twice happy are they, for not only is theirs the
kingdom of heaven, but they are free from the social parasite who never
leaves the rich man alone. One attacks him and begs, because he has a
large family born to genteel poverty. Another has a church to be roofed
or renovated, or some distressing object of charity which he would
willingly hang round the neck of the rich man instead of his own, until
the rich man being tormented by a thousand and one importunate beggars
of high and low degree, feels inclined to exclaim, "Oh! unhappy indeed
am I, for not only is it harder for me to enter the kingdom of heaven,
than it is for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, but also on
earth I am not unfrequently set upon, and despitefully used by the
common and vulgar thief, while the hand of the whole world is against
me."