Chapter XXIX.

    VOX POPULI, VOX DEI.

    Venerable Axiom.

After this unlooked-for termination of what the colonists called the ‘Pirate-War,’ the colony enjoyed a long period of peace and prosperity.  The whaling business was carried on with great success, and many connected with it actually got rich.  Among these was the governor, who, in addition to his other means, soon found himself in possession of more money than he could profitably dispose of in that young colony.  By his orders, no less than one hundred thousand dollars were invested in his name, in the United States six per cents, his friends in America being empowered to draw the dividends, and, after using a due proportion in the way of commissions, to re-invest the remainder to his credit.

Nature did quite as much as art, in bringing on the colony; the bounty of God, as the industry of man.  It is our duty, however, to allow that the colonists did not so regard the matter.  A great change came over their feelings, after the success of the ‘Pirate-War,’ inducing them to take a more exalted view of themselves and their condition than had been their wont.  The ancient humility seemed suddenly to disappear; and in its place a vainglorious estimate of themselves and of their prowess arose among the people.  The word “people,” too, was in everybody’s mouth, as if the colonists themselves had made those lovely islands, endowed them with fertility, and rendered them what they were now fast becoming—­scenes of the most exquisite rural beauty, as well as granaries of abundance.  By this time, the palm-tree covered more or less of every island; and the orange, lime, shaddock and other similar plants, filled the air with the fragrance of their flowers, or rendered it bright with the golden hues of their fruits.  In short, everything adapted to the climate was flourishing in the plantations, and plenty reigned even in the humblest dwelling.

This was a perilous condition for the healthful humility of human beings.  Two dangers beset them; both coloured and magnified by a common tendency.  One was that of dropping into luxurious idleness—­the certain precursor, in such a climate, of sensual indulgences; and the other was that of “waxing fat, and kicking.”  The tendency common to both, was to place self before God, and not only to believe that they merited all they received, but that they actually created a good share of it.

Of luxurious idleness, it was perhaps too soon to dread its worst fruits.  The men and women retained too many of their early habits and impressions to drop easily into such a chasm; on the contrary, they rather looked forward to producing results greater than any which had yet attended their exertions.  An exaggerated view of self, however, and an almost total forgetfulness of God, took the place of the colonial humility with which they had commenced their career in this new region.  These feelings were greatly heightened by three agents, that men ordinarily suppose might have a very different effect—­religion, law, and the press.