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Excerpt ​

Excerpt from Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates, by Howard Pyle

PREFACE

WHY is it that a little spice of deviltry lends not an unpleasantly
titillating twang to the great mass of respectable flour that goes to
make up the pudding of our modern civilization? And pertinent to this
question another--Why is it that the pirate has, and always has had,
a certain lurid glamour of the heroical enveloping him round about? Is
there, deep under the accumulated debris of culture, a hidden groundwork
of the old-time savage? Is there even in these well-regulated times an
unsubdued nature in the respectable mental household of every one of us
that still kicks against the pricks of law and order? To make my meaning
more clear, would not every boy, for instance--that is, every boy of any
account--rather be a pirate captain than a Member of Parliament? And
we ourselves--would we not rather read such a story as that of Captain
Avery's capture of the East Indian treasure ship, with its beautiful
princess and load of jewels (which gems he sold by the handful, history
sayeth, to a Bristol merchant), than, say, one of Bishop Atterbury's
sermons, or the goodly Master Robert Boyle's religious romance of
"Theodora and Didymus"? It is to be apprehended that to the unregenerate
nature of most of us there can be but one answer to such a query.

In the pleasurable warmth the heart feels in answer to tales of
derring-do Nelson's battles are all mightily interesting, but, even in
spite of their romance of splendid courage, I fancy that the majority of
us would rather turn back over the leaves of history to read how Drake
captured the Spanish treasure ship in the South Sea, and of how he
divided such a quantity of booty in the Island of Plate (so named
because of the tremendous dividend there declared) that it had to be
measured in quart bowls, being too considerable to be counted.

Explanation ​

Howard Pyle’s Preface to The Book of Pirates (1921) is a playful yet probing meditation on humanity’s enduring fascination with piracy—a theme that resonates with the romanticized outlaw archetype in literature and culture. Written during the Golden Age of Pirate Fiction (late 19th to early 20th century), Pyle’s work both reflects and shapes the mythos of pirates as dashing rebels, blending historical accounts with swashbuckling adventure. This preface serves as a rhetorical and philosophical introduction, using wit, rhetorical questions, and cultural critique to explore why figures like pirates captivate the imagination more than paragons of virtue or lawfulness.

Textual Analysis: Key Elements and Themes ​

1. The Central Question: Why the Allure of Devilry? ​

Pyle opens with a provocative metaphor:

"Why is it that a little spice of deviltry lends not an unpleasantly titillating twang to the great mass of respectable flour that goes to make up the pudding of our modern civilization?"

  • Metaphor of the Pudding: Civilization is compared to a bland, homogeneous "pudding" (a staple dessert of Victorian/Edwardian domesticity), while "deviltry" (mischief, rebellion) is the "spice" that makes it palatable. This suggests that conformity is dull, and transgression—even vicarious—adds flavor to life.
  • Titillating Twang: The alliterative phrase ("titillating twang") emphasizes sensory pleasure, framing devilry as a thrilling but harmless indulgence. The word "unpleasantly" is negated, implying that this "spice" is enjoyable because it’s slightly taboo.

Pyle then narrows the focus to pirates specifically:

"Why is it that the pirate has, and always has had, a certain lurid glamour of the heroical enveloping him round about?"

  • Lurid Glamour: "Lurid" connotes something sensational or shocking, while "glamour" suggests an almost magical allure. Pirates are not just criminals; they are heroic in their defiance, wrapped in a mythic aura.
  • Enveloping: The verb implies that this glamour is inescapable, surrounding pirates like a fog or halo. It’s not a choice but a natural phenomenon of human perception.

2. The Savage Underneath Civilization ​

Pyle proposes a psychological explanation:

"Is there, deep under the accumulated debris of culture, a hidden groundwork of the old-time savage? Is there even in these well-regulated times an unsubdued nature in the respectable mental household of every one of us that still kicks against the pricks of law and order?"

  • Debris of Culture: Civilization is framed as a superficial layer ("debris") atop a primal, "savage" core. This echoes Freud’s idea of the id (instinctual desires) suppressed by the superego (social rules), as well as Rousseau’s "noble savage" theory.
  • Kicks Against the Pricks: A biblical allusion (Acts 9:5, where Saul is rebuked for persecuting Christians: "It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks"). Here, it suggests that resistance to authority is innate, even if futile. The "respectable mental household" is a metaphor for the mind as a domestic space where rebellious impulses are unwanted guests.

3. The Boy’s Fantasy: Pirates vs. Parliament ​

Pyle uses a rhetorical question to illustrate his point:

"Would not every boy, for instance—that is, every boy of any account—rather be a pirate captain than a Member of Parliament?"

  • Boys of Any Account: The qualification implies that only spirited, imaginative boys (those "of account") would prefer piracy, framing conformity as a kind of moral or creative bankruptcy.
  • Pirate Captain vs. MP: The contrast is between adventure (piracy) and bureaucracy (Parliament). Pirates represent freedom, wealth, and excitement; politicians symbolize rules, compromise, and tedium. This dichotomy taps into the Romantic era’s valorization of the individual over institutions.

4. The Adult’s Guilty Pleasure ​

Pyle extends the argument to adults:

"Would we not rather read such a story as that of Captain Avery's capture of the East Indian treasure ship, with its beautiful princess and load of jewels (which gems he sold by the handful, history sayeth, to a Bristol merchant), than, say, one of Bishop Atterbury's sermons, or the goodly Master Robert Boyle's religious romance of 'Theodora and Didymus'?"

  • Captain Avery’s Exploits: Henry Every (Avery) was a real pirate who captured the Ganj-i-Sawai in 1695, stealing vast riches (including a Mughal princess, though this may be legend). Pyle emphasizes the spectacle—treasure, a princess, reckless wealth ("sold by the handful")—over moral or intellectual edification.
  • Contrast with Pious Works:
    • Bishop Atterbury’s sermons: Representing dry, moralistic religion.
    • Robert Boyle’s "Theodora and Didymus": A 17th-century Christian romance about chastity and martyrdom. Pyle’s dismissive "goodly" underscores its perceived dullness.
  • Unregenerate Nature: The phrase suggests that this preference is not just personal but universal—a shared, almost sinful inclination toward the sensational over the virtuous.

5. The Romance of Piracy vs. "Respectable" Heroism ​

Pyle contrasts pirates with Admiral Nelson, a national hero:

"In the pleasurable warmth the heart feels in answer to tales of derring-do Nelson's battles are all mightily interesting, but, even in spite of their romance of splendid courage, I fancy that the majority of us would rather turn back over the leaves of history to read how Drake captured the Spanish treasure ship in the South Sea..."

  • Nelson’s Battles: While heroic, they serve the state (order, duty). Pyle acknowledges their "splendid courage" but implies they lack the personal thrill of piracy.
  • Drake’s Treasure: Sir Francis Drake’s raid on the Nuestra Señora de la Concepción (1579) yielded so much silver that it was measured in "quart bowls." The image of wealth too abundant to count is more visceral than abstract heroism.
  • Island of Plate: A fictionalized account (likely referring to Drake’s exploits in the Pacific). The name "Plate" (slang for silver) and the "dividend" metaphor (treasure as corporate profit) highlight the pirate’s material success, which appeals to greed and fantasy.

Literary Devices and Style ​

  1. Rhetorical Questions: Pyle structures the preface as a series of questions, engaging the reader in a pseudo-Socratic dialogue. This creates a sense of shared curiosity and complicity.
  2. Metaphor and Simile: The "pudding" of civilization, the "debris" of culture, and the "mental household" make abstract ideas tangible.
  3. Allusion:
    • Biblical ("kicks against the pricks")
    • Historical (Drake, Avery, Nelson)
    • Literary (Boyle’s romance)
  4. Irony and Wit: The tone is lighthearted but sharp, mocking the hypocrisy of "respectable" society’s secret love for outlaws.
  5. Juxtaposition: Pirates vs. politicians, treasure vs. sermons, freedom vs. law. These contrasts underscore the appeal of transgression.

Cultural and Historical Significance ​

  1. Romanticization of Pirates: Pyle’s preface reflects the late 19th/early 20th-century trend of glorifying pirates (e.g., Treasure Island, 1883). Pirates were recast as antiheroes—charismatic, defiant, and free—rather than mere criminals.
  2. Critique of Modernity: The "well-regulated times" Pyle describes are those of industrialization and imperialism, where individualism was often suppressed. Pirates symbolized escape from these constraints.
  3. Psychological Insight: Pyle anticipates later theories about the human fascination with outlaws (e.g., Freud’s Civilization and Its Discontents, which argues that society represses natural desires).
  4. Gender and Adventure: The focus on boys’ fantasies reflects the era’s gender norms, where piracy was coded as masculine adventure. However, the universal "we" suggests the appeal transcends age and gender.

Why This Passage Resonates ​

Pyle’s preface endures because it articulates a timeless truth: humans are drawn to stories of rebellion, wealth, and freedom, especially when contrasted with the mundanity of daily life. The pirate is the ultimate fantasy of autonomy—answering to no one, taking what they want, and living vividly. By framing this as a shared inclination ("the unregenerate nature of most of us"), Pyle absolves the reader of guilt, turning the love of pirates into a harmless, even noble, indulgence.

In essence, the preface is not just about pirates but about the stories we choose to tell—and why the ones that break the rules are the most seductive.