“A man has sent me an enormous number of documents relative to Paul Jones, and wished me to write his life. I have read them all, but am not yet decided. Three lives have been written already; but two are by Americans, who turn a renegade into a Nelson, and the third by his own family, who qualify down all his errors. A moral might certainly be drawn from the life of that man; but whether it would be interesting just now, I doubt. As I have not decided, do not say anything about it.

  “Earl of — is an ass, and something worse. Do you know that he represented his wife as dying, and courted Miss —— — in anticipation? But his wife was quite well, and he could not anticipate as he wished. D’Orsay showed him the door, and he has never entered Lady Blessington’s house since.

  “You never sent me an answer about the ducks. Your basket will be thankfully received, and my girls say, ‘the apricots by all means.’

  “I suspect that there is a storm brewing for Peel, and that the malt tax and income tax together will produce such a cross sea that he will be swamped, or near it, unless he finds some means to batten down. At all events, I do not think that he will be able to keep his head above water and support the weight of both together; however, we shall see. I am not his well-wisher, that is certain; and I begin to suspect that I am a Whig, or something very near it: I certainly would ride in the coach if it only had a drag-chain. We have no news here. A little dog bit old Lady A — in the leg the other day, and that has kept conversation alive for these last three weeks. We are all now ready for some other ‘accident or offence’ equally as important, as that topic is worn out and the leg is well again.

  “Adieu! How glad I shall be to see you again.

  “Yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  The book here alluded to was ‘The Mission,’ published in 1845. Apropos of the contemplated visit to town, Mr. Harrison Ainsworth says, “I hope your agricultural pursuits will prosper. It must be quite a new life to you. When you come to town at Christmas, I hope you will bear in mind that you will find a hearty welcome here. Let me have a line on your arrival.”

  But the project was not carried out, as on the 26th of December we find him again writing from Langham:

  “MY DEAR MRS. S — ,

  “The small box has just arrived, and I deferred writing to you until I could announce its safety; moreover, I have tried one of the cigars, and pronounce them excellent. I have not yet tried the Manillas, but as I am about to proceed to Holt to get some money for my wheat, and we have a fog as thick as mustard, in another hour I shall have a very favourable opportunity. When Manillas are good, they are very good — perhaps preferable to Havanas; but it is hard to find them old enough, for they are not ripe till seven to ten years of age. You see I speak en amateur, if not en connoisseur. I am interrupted, and shall have to defer this letter one day’s post, as time and money wait for no man, at least they don’t with me, as they both fly. I have been in a peck of troubles — domestic, agricultural, legal and pecuniary, but have got pretty well out of them, although I still have an action or two against me for goods supplied to my thoughtless boys. I wish, among other things taught at schools, they would teach them the value of money. I reply to you distinctly that I have postponed my going to London till February, unless imperative circumstances require my presence, and I anticipate great pleasure in meeting you on my arrival.

  “Lady M — going to be married! I did not think she was such an Irish jackass. I’d as soon go to church with a paint-pot! Mercy on us! I have no doubt but that her ladyship has, since the proposal, a thousand times compared herself to Ninon de l’Enclos. And she has painted her ceiling in clouds d’azure. Well, let her hear me or not, I will say it, ‘There is no fool like an old fool.’ Nevertheless, I shall be happy to meet you there or anywhere. Many thanks for your offer of the Chinese gong, but is it not rather a queer kind of keepsake? A keepsake is given to remember you by, and am I to couple you with horrible discord? No, that won’t do. By-the-by, I sent you a turkey, and I hope it came to table. I assure you we have a great many good things down here on the farm and property, and I would feed you well, if ever you would summon up sufficient heroism to undertake the journey; but we will talk of that when we meet.

  “The Manillas are not so good as they might be, they are too new. What a dreadful thing is that death of poor Clara Webster! Just two minutes before she was to dance the pas seul in which she Was, poor girl, anticipating enthusiastic applause, thinking of anything but her fate. Well may we say, ‘In the midst of life we are in death.’

  * * * *

  “How is my goddaughter and how old may her little ladyship be?

  “Farewell for the present. Emily wants me to play piquet, and as she is alone with me I must not let her feel dull.

  “Yours ever truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  Piquet was a very favourite game with Captain Marryat, and he had taken great pains to teach his children to play it sufficiently well to be his opponents; but, in order that their interest in the performance might emulate his own, the stake invariably consisted of sugar plums provided by himself. These trifles, put on paper, look sadly, insignificant; but, if a feather shows the way the wind blows, the index to a man’s character is far oftener to be found in private than in public life — in little than in great things; and when a father is alone with his children, his true feelings rise to the surface. Many people have asked whether Captain Marryat, when at home, was not “very funny.” No, decidedly not. In society, with new topics to discuss, and other wits about him on which to sharpen his own — or, like flint and steel, to emit sparks by friction — he was as gay and humorous as the best of them; but at home he was always a thoughtful, and, at times, a very grave man; for he was not exempt from those ills that all flesh is heir to, and had his sorrows and his difficulties and moments of depression, like the rest of us. At such times it was dangerous to thwart or disturb him, for he was a man of strong passions and indomitable determination; but, whoever felt the effects of his moods of perplexity or disappointment his children never did. To them he was a most indulgent father and friend, caring little what escapades they indulged in, so long as they were not afraid to tell the truth. “Tell truth and shame the devil,” was a quotation constantly upon his lips; and he always upheld falsehood and cowardice as the two worst vices of mankind, He never permitted anything to be locked or hidden away from his children, who were allowed to indulge their appetites at their own discretion; nor were they ever banished from the apartments which he occupied. Even whilst he was writing, they would pass freely in and out of the room, putting any questions to him that occurred to them, and the worst rebuke they ever encountered was the short, determined order, “Cease your prattle, my child, and leave the room,” an order that was immediately obeyed.

  For, with all his indulgence of them, Captain Marryat took care to impress one fact upon his children— ‘that his word was law.

  The long-intended visit to London was accomplished in the early part of February, and the following letter was despatched from his old lodgings in Pall Mall:

  “120, Pall Mall,

  “Wednesday.

  “MY DEAR MRS. S — ,

  “I don’t write to say that I am safe here, because you would have heard if I had not been, but because I like to write to you and I think you like to hear from me.

  “I have been busy enough since I have been here. The B — s have not turned up yet. Have they left you? I want to see Peter very much. I saw Lady Morgan today; she is far from well — influenza; speaks in high terms of you, Went down to Gore House — nobody at home but little E — . Yesterday dined at the de Bathes’ and from thence went to a get-up at Dickens’: very pleasant indeed — lots of fun — Wilson and Parry sung; children had then a ball and supper, and made speeches, and sung convivial songs; afterwards, ball and capital supper; everyone there: Talfourd, Macready, Cruikshank, Landor, Stanfield, Forster, and a hundred more. Left Mrs. G — dancing Sir Roger de Coverley like mad. I hope you are better. Has D — returned? How’s my little Flo? I dine with Ainsworth to-day. No politics at present; but they say that Peel will not touch the Corn Laws much; if he attempts it he will be thrown on his back. Since Ellenborough has been sent to the Admiralty the name is changed to the ‘Elephant and Castle -House of Call.’ They ask, Why must officers in future study litigation instead of navigation? Because they must go to law before they can get a ship. What was Joan of Arc made of? She was Maid of Orleans. Is that new?

  “Ever yours,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  Notwithstanding the numerous letters that had passed between Captain Marryat and Mrs. S — on the subject of their meeting, it did not, after all, take place, as a fortnight later we find him back again at his country house — when he writes:

  “Langham

  “February 25, 1845.

  “My dear MRS. S — ,

  “You are a very provoking personage. You told me that you would be in town the first week in February, and requested that I would arrange so as to meet you, which I did at some inconvenience to myself. On the 3rd of February I went to London, and immediately went to Priaulx and made inquiries. He said that you were not come, and would not come, he was certain. I remained in town till the 22nd, when I was obliged to return down here, and now you write to tell me you are coming up. Thus, you perceive, I kept my appointment, and you did not keep yours; moreover I loaded myself with the — correspondence, as I had promised to bring it up to you, and had to lug it all down again; and I hardly need say that I was very much disappointed. There is certainly no chance of our meeting now, as I could not possibly come up again; and we must live on hopes.

  “Let me hear from you if you have time. It will be all the consolation left me. Kind regards to your husband, and

  “Ever yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  “Consolation” appears to have arrived by return of post.

  “Langham,

  “February 28, 1845.

  “My DEAR Mrs. S — ,

  “It does appear rather arbitrary to insist upon my making an apology for having kept my engagement; but, as it must be I presume, I do apologize, and if you wish it, will promise never to do so again. You remind me of Tom Sheridan, when I lived with him, who, when people came to his own appointment, declared that they Were so cursed punctual that he had not a moment to himself. Why I did not write was from Osmond’s asseveration that you would not come; in fact, that you could not; and, as I presumed that he knew something of his aunt’s movements, I believed him: I never accused you, or any other woman, of being either Mede or Persian; and I should not fancy a woman of that description, if such a one is to be found. Your great charm consists in your variety, and although fickleness may be a great fault, yet, somehow or another, it causes us men to be more assiduous; what we are certain of soon becomes indifferent to us, and that is the cause why matrimony is sometimes a little wearisome. What do I think of Sir R.

  P — ? I think that he is a great man because others are so little, nothing more. I think he is a humbug, and I dislike him most amazingly; but I am more disgusted with the cowardice of those who support him after his having broken faith with them. I did see the d’Orsay and milady, I did promise to dine with them, and I did not keep my promise; but I made the same to so many that I could not keep one promise without breaking another, and that neutralised the sin and satisfied my conscience. The fact is that I was divided between my mother’s sick-bed and looking out for’ a governess for my children. I succeeded at last, and bore her down in triumph to this place; and, as far as I can judge, she will do very well and appears to be well satisfied with her position. If Sir — would serve us agriculturists he would send away this frost, for I assure you it is now becoming very serious. The wheats are very much injured and the stock are starving — another ten days and thousands and thousands must perish for want of food. We are feeding our sheep upon oil-cake now, but that cannot last long, as very little is left, and it as risen already to ten pounds the ton. I am better off than my neighbours, and that is all I can say; but the foreign cattle imported here brought over with them an epidemic, which saves us the expense of feeding a large proportion of those which are left. As for the labourers they are literally starving; for those who would give them work cannot while this frost lasts, as it has put a stop to everything except eating.

  “I regret, as much as you do, not having seen you, but we are all the slaves to circumstances and they lead us by the nose hither and thither. It is to be hoped that in following our noses we may again stumble upon one another. Next June we shall have a railroad within distance, and then I shall persuade you to come down here and see how I am rusticating among the pigs and calves.

  “Very truly yours,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  In March he writes to a friend in town:

  “Very busy getting in the barley and praying for the grass to grow, that the stock may not starve. I suspect that there will be a hiatus between the turnips and the grass of about a fortnight, during which the cattle must fast, as the farmers have no hay.” And two months later, in a letter to Mr. Forster dated May 27th, he says:

  “How pleasant is the grumbling farmer’s lot,

  The world forgetting — by the world forgot.”

  “So Pope might have said, if he had pleased, with about as much truth as in the case of the vestal. I am tied down here and do not think I shall be able to come to town this season, unless it be late in next month for a few days. The grass is growing at last, but we still require sun.”

  The long expected governess, when eventually secured and transplanted to Langham, was not received by the children, who had been accustomed to have their own way in everything, with much enthusiasm; and their father was the friend to whom they invariably appealed for protection against her authority. Captain Marryat had rather an original plan with respect to punishment and reward. He kept a quantity of small articles for presents in his secretary; and at the termination of each week the children and governess, armed with a report of their general behaviour, were ushered with much solemnity into the library to render up an account. Those who had behaved well during the preceding seven days received a prize, because they had been so good; and those who had behaved ill also received one, in hopes that they would never be naughty again: the governess was also presented with a gift, that her criticism on the justice of the transaction might be disarmed. Thus all parties left the room perfectly satisfied: an end which, Captain Marryat used to observe, it required some diplomacy to attain.

  This governess was in the habit of restraining the children’s thoughtlessness by the imposition of fines or lessons when they tore their clothes; but, as tearing their clothes was an event of daily occurrence, the punishment became rather heavy; and one of the younger ones, having made a large rent in a new frock, ran in dismay to her father in order to consult him how best to escape the impending doom. Captain Marryat, without any regard to the future of the garment in question, took hold of the rent and tore off the whole lower part of the skirt. “Tell her I did it,” he said in explanation as he walked away.

  In the spring of 1845 ‘The Mission’ was completed, and announced for publication; when Mr. Forster wrote, “Now that you have knocked off another little book, you have doubtless a little breathing time. What would you say to giving a month or two to a short biography, of about a volume, something of the size and manner of Southey’s ‘Nelson,’ and the subject, ‘Collingwood’?”

  This biography was never written, but that it was contemplated is evidenced by the following extracts from Captain Marryat’s letters:

  “I should like to write about Collingwood, but, if I were to write it in anything like a stipulated time I should not do it well. Biography is most difficult writing, and requires more time and thought than any original composition, and if I take it up I must be free as air.”

  And again: “With respect to your inquiry as to my reasons for not writing ‘Collingwood one is, that I have lately taken to a different style of writing, that is, for young people. My former productions, like all novels, have had their day, and for the present at least will sell no more; but it is not so with the juveniles; they have an annual demand, and become a little income to me; which I infinitely prefer to receiving any sum in a mass, which very soon disappears somehow or other.”