April 5th, he again writes to Mr. Forster:

  “I never see any books here, except those in my own library. I am on my legs the best portion of the day, and have hardly time to get through the newspapers. If you can manage it, come down and stay here — you shall do as you please, and so will I. The weather is beautiful, and the country is really, without exaggeration, one mass of violets. I am very busy getting my barley in. Vale.

  “Yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  In May he managed to leave his farm for a few days and run up to town.

  “United Service Club,

  “May 8

  “My DEAR MOTHER,

  “Augusta and I arrived in town last night, having been detained longer than I expected.

  “Mr. Hay tells me that Frederick is at the Golden Cross, Charing Cross, so that we are not very far apart; but I have heard nothing about him, except that Mr. Hay thinks his ardour for painting has very much evaporated since he has found that he cannot make a hundred guineas in a day’s work.

  “I shall know more by to-morrow. I have not seen anybody, for Joe was in the city, Mary in the academy, and neither came home till dinner-time.

  “Yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  On returning to Langham he writes, in July, as follows:

  “Langham.

  “July 16, 1845.

  “MY DEAR MRS. S — ,

  “Your letter has remained a long while unanswered; but I received it just as I was starting for London, and have been so occupied that I have not been able to reply to it. I did not, like you, go to London for pleasure: it was Law and Chancery that drove me up; and I only staid a week, and then came down again to prepare for a trial which comes on at Norwich, if not compromised, on Monday next. I am at issue with one of my tenants, who will not fulfil his covenants and will ruin my property if he is allowed to go on as he does now. I am forced into law, and cannot help myself. I only hope a ‘happy issue out of all my afflictions.’ I did receive ‘Sybil,’ and read it with pleasure; many thanks to you for it, How much it has become the fashion, I may say, to hold up the lower classes: Jerrold, Disraeli, Mrs. Norton, and Dickens, I may add, are all at it; and they will produce some good by their constant efforts. I saw very little of — when in town. I happened to say to him that if my tenant gave up his farm, I should require more capital than I had to carry it on; and I thought afterwards that he had a suspicion that I was about to request a loan of him, for he never was to be seen afterwards. He was very much mistaken, if he did think so; for I would sooner borrow money of a Jew, at fifty per cent., than borrow of even my own mother or relations. With a Jew I am under no obligation, and that is why. But the fact is, I do not want to borrow at all and I only said so, talking, as people say, promiscuously. My little girls are quite well, and the governess gets on smoothly. She has her faults, but who has not? She is too imperative to the servants, and too fond of fruit and sweet things, both of which are bad examples to children. She is still as cold as ever, and as it is of no use attempting to warm her I have let all the fires go out.

  “I expect my eldest son home from India in a few days; so that we shall be a large party. Recollect that Miss Cushman, the American actress, is a great friend of, mine; and I shall give her a letter to you when she goes to Liverpool, and you must be kind and useful to her if you can. I mean the last, when I say if you can — the first you can’t help. I send you an order for ‘The Mission,’ which is approved of; and now I must say farewell.

  “Good-bye, God bless you.

  “Yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  This tenant, the same who fitted up the drawing-room of the manor as a public sleeping-place, proved very difficult to eject. He would not compromise, and, therefore, Captain Marryat was compelled to attend the assizes, as his letter from Norwich will show:

  “Norwich,

  “July 23, 1846.

  “MY dear MRS. S — ,

  “Your letter arrived just as I was setting off for this town, to try a cause at the assizes — being an action that I have brought against one of my tenants for breach of covenant. It has already given me much trouble, hurrying me from town and to town, so that I have been in a constant state of bustle and motion for the last six weeks; and it has proved, as you may suppose, a great worry — I may say, a new sort of worry to me; for I never was in court before. However, it is not to be expected that a man is to pass away his whole life without being involved in law, and I take it as a portion of the ‘ills which flesh is heir to.’ Now that I am writing to you the trial is just coming on, and I am sitting here, not choosing to appear in court myself, as I think it shows an anxiety about your cause unworthy of a philosopher. I have to do with fellows who stick at nothing, and who are trying to outswear me — which is their only chance, and I am sorry to say a very good chance too, in this part of the world. I send you an order for the other two volumes of ‘Masterman Ready,’ but for the autograph you must wait for another opportunity.

  * * * *

  “I sincerely hope that you will be settled in London; it will suit you much better than that half Yankee town of Liverpool; and then, as soon as the railroad opens, I shall hope to see you once more. You will be able to get a very good and spacious house on the other side of Oxford Road, in the Cavendish Square thereabouts, for £100 per annum, or a little more; and as nobody will care where you live, you need not care yourself. I am glad to hear well of the A — s. I presume by L — you mean the eldest. She will make a good wife to any one who deserves her. My teacher seems to improve a little, as far as the servants are concerned; but she has a very sweet tooth, and is always talking of what nice things she had when she lived at some other house with a wealthy corn-factor. I am afraid she must live now upon the remembrance of them. It is a sort of race between her and my children, who shall get the fruit first out of the garden as it ripens. However, I never interfere about these small matters.

  “A message from the Shire Hall, saying the opposite party desire to compromise, if they can. The attorneys have met; but I am almost positive that they will not come to terms.

  “Poor Mrs. — ! Gaiety may ‘keep up her health and spirits’; but let her be omitted in the list of invitations where she anticipates going, or let any other trifle hurt her vanity, and she would vote London a nuisance and set off on a tour a month sooner than she intended. However, she is right to make the most of the present, for life is short, and all is vanity and, but too often, vexation of spirit.

  “Four o’clock. I left my letter open. They could not come to a compromise, and the trial took place; I have gained my cause, with £150 damages. I am glad it is over, and I hope never to be at law again.

  “Yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  In the same month Mr. Ainsworth, having purchased the ‘New Monthly Magazine’ from Mr. Colburn, asks his old friend to become a contributor. “You will confer the greatest favour upon me, if you will write for me and lend me the weight of your name”; and after suggesting a novel, he continues: “but if this plan does not suit you, at least let me have two or three short tales or sketches of any sort.” The consequence of this request was, that the number of the ‘New Monthly’ for August contained a story by Captain Marryat, of which Mr. Ainsworth writes: “The ‘Log’ reads capitally, and I hope you will approve the heading I have given it. You must give a longer ‘extract,’ twelve pages or a sheet, next month, and let us have it early.” In the following note to Mr. Forster, Captain Marryat does not appear to have quite given up the idea of writing Lord Collingwood’s life:

  “Langham, August 21.

  “MY DEAR FORSTER,

  “I return the proof, which is quite correct. I am reading for ‘Collingwood’; but I think I must read more, and perhaps apply to his relatives for matter, before I shall have enough to make one volume. However, it is too soon to decide that point. When you see. Stanfield say I inquired if he was alive. Remembrances to Dickens. I have been helping ‘Blue and Yellow Fire,’ as I call him — Ainsworth, I mean — in his ‘New Monthly,’ and that has put me back a little.

  “Yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  Mr. Forster was not behind his other friends, in trying to coax him to return to the world which he had left:

  “Look at this bill enclosed; it is all Dickens’s doing. I am a lamb at the slaughter. But will you come up? Stanny, and all of us, are in it. Dickens plays Bobadil. I have kept my best place for you, if you will come. Tell me, and you shall have the card of invitation by return of post. Many are coming from far greater distances than Langham. Do come. I shall be so pleased to hear ‘Off, off,’ and ‘Fling him over!’ (for hear them I suppose I must) from your friendly voice. Now, be a gentleman — a trump — a first-rater, and come ‘special’ for the play. Tickets are at a premium, I can tell you.”

  “MY DEAR FORSTER,

  “Would you have me disinherited? And yet, to accede to your proposal, and at the same time to gratify my own wishes, would probably have such a result. My honoured mother, for the first time, comes down here in state to pay a visit to her son — and I expect her in a few days. It is impossible for me to be absent at the time or to go away while she is here. If it were not as I say, I would come with great pleasure; but I dare not. I do think, however, that, once begun, it will go on and I shall have another chance; then I will not only come, but snuff the candles, play the lion, or the hind legs of an elephant for you, just as you please.

  “Got through the letters at last, thank heaven. By-the-by, I have been reading for ‘Collingwood,’ and up to the present I do not think that a life of Collingwood could be written — the materials are so meagre, and it must be wholly composed of what is already in print and well known. Still I am not certain, and I shall begin to read again in a few days.

  “Yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  Captain Marryat’s next letter to Mrs. S — , dated August 20th, is chiefly on business, unimportant to any one but himself; the remainder only therefore is transcribed:

  “With respect to speculating in railroads, I am aware that much money has been and is to be yet made, but I also know that the loss must eventually fall upon somebody, and there must be a crash by-and-by. As long as people do not hold they may continue for some time to make money; but the great point is to bide your time. A railroad speculation is composed of two tides: you start it at young flood and up it goes till you arrive at high water; then comes the ebb, and those who embarked too late find themselves aground. I will not speculate except in cattle. A large farm is a heavy yearly speculation upon the seasons, and quite as much as I choose to embark in, as I like to sleep sound at night.

  “You are very kind to promise me some grouse; I am very fond of those interesting little animals and hope you will not forget me. Do not be afraid of their condition, as I like them high. I really wish you would write your confessions, I will publish them. I have a beautiful opening in some memoranda I have made of the early life of a Frenchwoman, that is, up to the age of seventeen, when she is cast adrift upon the world, and I would work it all up together. Let us commence, and divide the tin; it is better than doing nothing. I have been helping Ainsworth lately in the ‘New Monthly,’ and I told him that I had commenced a work called ‘Mdlle. Virginie,’ which he might perhaps have. Without my knowing it, he has announced its coming forth; but it does not follow that he is to have it, nevertheless, and indeed he now wishes me to continue one that I have already begun in the magazine.

  “My boy Frederick is with me, just come home from Hong Kong — a very queer, eccentric fellow, as idle as he is talented. He has taken possession of the pipe you gave me, and smokes awfully. My young ones are all well. I expect my mother down here on the ninth of September, and am preparing to receive the old lady with all the honour due to her age and grey hairs. Addio, or as Fred says, Chin chin, which is the Chinese salutation.

  “Yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  The work alluded to was ‘The Privateersman,’ first published in the ‘New Monthly’ and afterwards in three volumes, and of which Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, in a letter to the author,’ says: “‘The Privateersman’ and your note arrived safely together. What a wonderful little hand you write! It is like copperplate and almost invisible. The compositors ought to have magnifying glasses.”

  Captain Marryat’s handwriting (a facsimile specimen of which will be found in these volumes) has already been noticed for its extreme minuteness, and it used to be said there was but one compositor in London who could set up his copy without assistance.

  Mrs. S — did not agree to add her experiences with those of Mademoiselle Virginie, and make one story out of two lives, and, in a subsequent communication on the subject, Mr. Ainsworth says: “By all means go on with ‘Mdlle. Virginie,’ we shall soon be ready for her in the ‘New Monthly.’ I hope you have not written the whole of ‘The Privateersman’ in your microscopic hand: you have literally frightened away some of the compositors from Whiting’s — at all events don’t write Mademoiselle out so diminutively.” Before publication the name of this work was changed, and it appeared under the title of ‘“Valérie.’

  The two first volumes and part of the third were written by Captain Marryat, but, owing to the first symptoms of the illness which proved fatal to him making themselves apparent whilst the story was still running in the magazine, it was completed by another hand.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  Correspondence—’ Letters of a Norfolk Farmer — Captain Marryat’s talent for Agriculture— ‘Children of the New Forest ‘—’ Little Savage’ — First symptoms of his illness.

  “September 9, 1845.

  “MY dear Mrs. S — ,

  “New wheat is down to twenty shillings the coomb at Norwich Market, that is forty shillings the quarter, but it will be higher than that, although not a great deal. We have splendid harvest weather, and the barley will be most abundant. This fine weather will produce an average crop of turnips, which is more than we expected. So much for farming. I still hold my opinion about railroads; I prefer being a stander-by and watching the rush of the crowd to becoming one of it. Not that I do not want money, but I prefer making it by sure means and hard fagging, to risking what little I have by speculation. What I value most, because I have had so little of it in this world, is peace and quiet, and those who have such heavy stakes upon the turn of the die cannot but be in a state of constant excitement and irritation. I had sooner saunter in my garden and discuss the merits of a greengage than argue upon the merits of all the broad gauges in the world. Observe what a tame subdued mortal I have become, and how unworthy the attention of any woman of spirit. My boy Frederick has just obtained his promotion to a lieutenant — which is a sure speculation, as it gives him a hundred per annum for life and may lead to more. He has a great aversion to the service, and wishes to remain on shore; but that I fear cannot be, as they employ them all as soon as they are promoted. They have given him three months leave, and nous verrons.

  “I cannot possibly come down to you at the time that you mention, and I assure you the very idea of taking the chair at a meeting would be enough to keep me away. I have a great horror of any publicity. Time was, but time is. Moreover, I am convinced that you gain in public opinion now by keeping quiet. There are so many thrusting themselves forward on the public, most of whom are found wanting, that they serve to direct people’s attention to those who do not seek popularity. Some of these days, like another Cincinnatus at his plough, I may have a deputation, and if it never does come, so much the better. I have had my swing, tried and tasted everything, and find that it is vanity. I have also just found out that I have been writing upon two sheets of note paper instead of one, which is not economy.

  “But I could not pay you a visit at the time you mention, as, at the commencement of November, law business begins; and I am told that my tenant, rather than pay the expenses of the action which terminated in my favour, means to make a fraudulent bankruptcy and walk off. Now, I could not be away at such a time, and if he does do so, I shall have to farm the whole property, 700 acres, and shall have enough to do to get through the business. I do with all my heart wish that we lived nearer, but it is no use wishing. Come and see you as soon as I can get away I certainly will, and then we can talk over this, that, and everything else in the world. In the meantime, with kind regards to your husband,

  “Ever yours truly,

  “F. MARRYAT.”

  “Langham, Sept. 28, 1845.

  “MY DEAR MRS. S — ,

  “I have to thank you on my bended knees for a basket of grouse, which arrived in good order and were very acceptable. My honoured mother was, however, gone before their arrival — that was her fault. The grouse, by-the-by, remind me of the black-cock that you sent me last year. I gave one to a large farmer, a neighbour of mine, who had been very civil, and he was so astonished at it that he took it the following day to Fakenham market, to show to the rest of his fraternity, and there was as much admiration and astonishment at it as if it had been a mermaid or the King of the Cannibal Islands. You see we are very primitive down here. Harvest was finished last night — all got in well, and in good condition. To-morrow the men have the harvest-home dinner, and the next day they put apart to get drunk; such being the invariable custom of the county. It certainly does appear that we English will always have some excuse to get fuddled whenever we can. I proposed, last year, that they should get drunk on the day of the harvest dinner, but they scouted the idea — they would have a day for intoxication entirely — such was the custom. It was true that they would lose a day’s wages, but they must do as their forefathers had always done before them. Perhaps they are right; for one day in the year they will forget their cares, and then get up next morning to renew their year of toil. It is but the Saturnalia of slaves.