Life of Frederick Marryat

and some at once unlike what he had already written, and yet excellent of their kind. "Poor Jack" and "Percival Keene" have touches of the old sea life, and flashes of fun

these days for another essay on Milton it would be useless to guess, but undoubtedly it could hardly be greater than the share which fell to Macaulay for his early effort. Carlyle made a place for himself by a few articles. The wind which blew for them blew for others also. As has almost always been the case in great literary periods, the readiness of the reader to recognize and admire was as strong as the productive power of the writer. The audience met the playwright half way. Sir Walter Scott had prepared the market for the novelist. He had enormously increased the taste for novels, and whoever could write at all was the surer of a hearing, because

s a sheet now. I let them off for twenty guineas, as I do not wish to run them hard; and I now have commenced with the New Monthly at that rate for one year certain, and the copyright secured to me. Times are hard, and I do not wish to break the backs of the publishers, although I ride over them roughshod. I have also made very much better terms for my books. 'Snarley Yow,' comes out on the 1st of June. I have parted very amicably with Saunders and Otley, who would not stand an advance. I

which is not uncommon in these transactions, and particularly likely to arise when, as in this case, a publisher frankly tells the author that he thinks him "eccentric," and an "odd creature," and adds that he is himself "somewhat warm-temper

ct. Considering your age, you are a little volcano, and if the insurance were aware of your frequent visits to the Royal

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ved? I, who have found everything, receiving a pittance; while you, who have found nothing but the shop to sell in, receiving such a lion's share. I assert again, it is slavery. I a

sent agreement fair. Let them arrange with me, and do you go and read your Bible. We all have our own ideas of Paradise, and if other authors think like me, the mor

nd the profession of author sufficiently remunerative. His indignation with his publishers may be safely taken to be mainly a proof that, in common with most writing-men of his generation, he was a firm believer in the creed that authors are an ill-used body. This is no longer quite so orthodox as it was. The wind is rather blowing the other way, and it is becoming the right thing to say that authors have themselves to thank for their ill-luck if they do not earn as much as they ought, and must bear[78] the burden like their fellow-men if they spend more than they earn. This good sense may corrupt into a cant as others have done, but it is good sense. Marryat-who would appear to have made three thousand pounds or so in 1835, for taking "Mr. Midshipman Easy" and the other two stories, with his copyrights and editorship, he can hardly have made less-was in any case not an example of an ill-paid author. If he had to complain of want of money it must have been because he was a gentleman of extravagant habi

s. When he had given it three successors, he[79] thought fit to publish a proclamation on the subject of his work in

general, that it was a history of the author's own life. Now, without pretending to have been better than we should have been in our earlier days, we do most solemnly assure the public that, had we run the career of vice of the hero of 'The Naval Officer,' at all events, we should have had sufficient sense of shame not to have avowed it. Except the hero and the heroine, and those parts of the work which supply the slight plot of it as a novel, the work in itself is materially true, especially in the narrative of sea adventure, most of which did (to the best of our recollection) occur to the author.... The 'confounded licking' we receive

, at least, not in good ones. The English hand is unhappy at that work. A man has only to turn to Ludlow, or Sir Philip Warwick, to see how lamentably little Englishmen of parts who lived through the most wonderful things could contrive to[81] bring away with them-how little at least of the life, the colour, the dramatic swing of it all. Of the few we can show, which are not unfit to stand with the Frenchmen, Clarendon, Pepys, Colley Cibber, Evelyn (and four or five others), none were of the sea. "Cochrane's Autobiography" maybe quoted against me, but even this, good as it is in places, is drowned in angry denunciations of human wickedness, and demonstrations that this or the other thing ought to have been done by official backsliders, so that what Cochrane did himself is almost crowded out. Besides, it is only a fragment, and then reste à savoir s'il n'est pas mort. It has n

gnized at once; and when it was found that the things that had happened to the hero of the story were the adventures of the author, it is not to be wondered at that the two were thought to be also identical in character. Marryat, in fact, committed with himself the very error of judgment into which Dickens was led with Leigh Hunt, when he made Harold Skimpole a rascal, in order to prove that he was not a caricature of his friend. But there is something more than inexperience and error of judgment about "The Naval Officer." Marryat can hardly have seen what a bad fellow he had drawn. Frank Mildmay has not only those "sins of the devil," which may be worse, but are more dignified, than the sins of men-he errs not only by "pride and rebellion," but he is a mean scamp; and I am afraid that Marryat did not

sts whose work lives. Now this is heresy. In truth, the sea life owes more to Marryat than he to the sea. No one meets Mr. Easy, or Terence O'Brien, or Mr. Chucks, or Mr. Vanslyperken in this commonplace world. He meets something out of which they may be made. Unquestionably his experience was of inestimable value to Marryat-as all exceptional experience is to all novelists. At the very beginning of his career he was complimented by Washington Irving on his good luck. "You have a glorious field before you, and one in which you cannot have many competitors, as so very few unite the author to the sailor." No doubt it was Marryat's happiness that he had so good a Sparta to cultivate-but, after all, the result was primarily due to the skill of the cultivator. Speaking as one who has a full share of the good English taste for reading about the things of the sea, I am inclined to maintain that few kinds of books are more tedious than sea stories which ask to be read and enjoyed simply because they are sea stories. Battle, and storm, and shipwreck may be poured out on you, and yet leave you cold. These things by themselves in fiction are capable of being as tiresome as the once prevalent detective, or now popular religious disputations. To compare the stock sea stor

othing in English literature at once more simple, more manly, more perfectly adequate to its purpose than the language of Dampier. In Marryat's own time this power had not been lost by English seamen. The navy may have been a rough school, but there was nothing in its training which made men unable to use the pen, and use it well. As an example of flowing, and also perfectly unaffected, description, the account of the battle of the Nile, given by Captain Miller, of the Theseus, is without fault. It deserves a place of honour in every collection of English letters. The beauty of Collingwood's letters is acknowledged even by those who have thought fit to carp at his character. Marryat brought this style to his literary work, and kept it unchanged to the end. It is a style in which there is no straining. Marryat never had recourse, as his contemporary, Mic

rs were obscured by a sort of mist: there appeared a total stagnation in the elements. The men in the boats pulled off their jackets, for after a few moments' pulling, they could bear them no longer. As we pulled in, the atmosphere became more opaque, and t

that if we only knew how to find the brig, I would advise you to get on board o

ou say so?

l have a hurricane afore morning. It's not the first tim

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out.' I then turned the boat round, and steered, as near as I could guess, for where the brig was lying. But we had not pulled out more than two minutes, before a low moaning was heard

h; many's the living being that will no

forward under the thwarts, many of them severely hurt. Fortunately, we pulled with tholes and pins; or the gunwales and planks of the boat would have been wrenched off, and we should have foundered. The wind soon caught the boat on her broadside, and, had there been the least sea, would have inevitably thrown her over; but Swinburne put the helm down, and she fell off before the hurricane, darting through the boiling water at the rate of ten miles an[89] hour.

ss it were to certain death. Swinburne steered the boat, every now and then looking back as the waves increased. In a few minutes we were in a heavy swell, that at one minute bore us all aloft, and at the next almo

rock, breaking two of my ribs. Swinburne, and eight more, escaped with me, but not unhurt; two had their legs broken, three had broken arms, and the others were more or less contused. Swinburne miraculously received no injury. We had been eighteen in the boat, of which ten escaped: the others were hurled up at our feet; and the next morning we found them dreadfully mangled. One or two had their heads literally shattered to pieces against the rocks. I felt that I was saved, and was grateful; but still the hurricane howled-still the waves were washing over us. I crawled further up upon the beach, and found Swinburne sitting down with his eyes directed seaward. He knew me, took my hand, squeezed it, and then held it in his. For some moments we remained

The sentences go rapidly on. Their very simplicity helps to convey the impression of the suddenness and overwhelming fury of the storm. The effect would have been lost if the writer had stopped to talk. The style seems to

natural course of things to swing at Kingston or at Execution Dock. Even Cain himself, "The Pirate," is within the bounds of probability as compared with the wondrous Spanish Americans, or astounding Scotch gentlemen of superhuman wickedness, who flourish in "Tom Cringle's Log," and the "Cruise of the Midge." Neither do incidents of the wilder and more horrific kind appear in Marryat's books. There[92] is nothi

Peter Simple," he tries to fit one on to his story, it is no addition to the merits of the book. Who cares a straw for Peter's wicked uncle, for the changing of the children, or for the

his hammock, "I knew very well that I never should be made. If it is not confirmed, I may live; but if it is, I am sure to die." And die he does, because hope deferred has dried up the spring of life within him. In the character of Mr. Chucks kindness and fun are mingled. He is respectable in spite of his absurdities, and lovable because of them. In the Dominie in "Jacob Faithful" there is an effort to produce a second Mr. Chucks, but it is not successful. He is too plainly a reminiscence of another Dominie-a fairly well-done copy, but only a copy. For the most part the fun of Marryat belongs to the grotesque order. This, unquestionably, is not the highest. But what is not the highest may yet be genuine, and that Marryat's fun, as the wor

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; all which is practically exemplified by philosophy in the laws of motion, communicated from one body to another; and as Mr. Smallsole

lsole cam

hat the devil are you abo

as the forecastle is with idlers.' And here Mr. Biggs looked

here, sir?' cried Mr.

all, sir,'

t there till I call you down. Come, sir, I'll show you the way,' continued

llant mast-head; perch yourself

up there for, si

nt, sir,' repl

ave I do

y, sir-up

ied Jack, 'I should wish to

9

lsole-'by Jove, I'll teach you to a

h every one in the service was to be guided. Now, sir,' said Jack, 'I have read them over till I know them by heart, and th

t-head, sir, or will you

d in the articles of war, sir?'

st-head: if not, I'll be d--d if I

s of war, sir,' replied Jack; 'but I'll tell you

eing guilty of profane oaths, execrations, drunkenness, uncleanness, or other scandalous actions

was mad with rage, hearing that th

hat's when he's tried above; but according

he mast-head, sir,

9

' replied Jack,

an arrest. I'll try you by a court-

ording to the articles of war, which are to guide us all.' Jack folded up h

the ideal picture of it presented by the articles of war, and this is precisely what might be expected to happen. The absurdity always arises from the clash of the characters; and though it be farce, it is

pontaneous, and was by natural instinct literary. He did not toil and labour to be funny. Even in his most hasty work he would hit off a scene with neat pen-strokes, marking just enough and no more. Take, for instance, the revenue officers in "The Three Cutters." Lieutenant Appleboy and his companions are introduced simply because he had seen them, and as much for his own amusement as his readers. Marryat had seen the types when he was doing preventive work himself in the Rosario, and drew them out of his memory when he needed them. Some of his figures were doubtless portraits-all of them had possibly some touch of portraiture. But on his paper they have an interest altogether independent of their originals.