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"If writing monthly fragments threatened to deteriorate Mr Ainsworth's productions, what must be the result of this hebdomadal habit? Captain Marryat, we are sorry to say, has taken to the same line. Both these popular authors may rely upon our warning, that they will live to see their laurels fade unless they more carefully cultivate a spirit of self-respect.
Marryat, commenting on one of his characters, says that he had seldom known an officer who prided himself on his "practical" knowledge who was at the same time a good navigator; and that such too often "lower the respect due to them by assuming the Jack Tar."
A portrait, in water colours, by Behnes, was engraved as a frontispiece to The Pirate and The Three Cutters. His bust was taken by Carew. Frederick Marryat Without yielding implicit credence to the handsome pedigree of the Marryats supplied by Mrs Lean, the novelist's daughter, we may give a glance in passing to the first-fruits of this family tree.
Many brains have busied themselves with the solution of these problems with such success that dry-fly fishing is now a finished art. The entomology of the dry-fly stream has been studied very deeply by Mr. F.M. Halford, the late G.S. Marryat and others, and improvements both in flies and tackle have been very great.
Oddly enough, lunching once with an old and distinguished British admiral, who had been a midshipman while Marryat still lived, he told me that he remembered him well; his reputation, he added, was that of "an excellent seaman, but not much of an officer," an expressive phrase, current in our own service, and which doubtless has its equivalent in all maritime languages.
It is easy to criticise Marryat, for his grammar is reckless, he could not construct a plot, he wrote too much and too rapidly in order to earn money. But then he was an altogether admirable raconteur, and for the purposes of narration his style was peculiarly appropriate simple, rapid, lucid, and vigorous. He does not tax our powers of belief beyond endurance, or weary us with wonder.
During the rainy season, however, very few officers or men went beyond shelter, unless obliged to do so and, from two till four or five, no small proportion passed the time in sleep. Stanley had intended to pay a visit to the Larne; as Captain Marryat, who had dined at the staff mess on the previous evening, had invited him to go on board, whenever it might be convenient to him.
I went back to the bed and tried to sleep, but I couldn't. I could have killed Twigg; but there wasn't any way to do it. He kept on reading and smoking. About six o'clock he said: "This is quite a yarn, isn't it? Somehow I never seemed to find time for Marryat when I was a boy. You've read this, of course?" "Yes," I muttered. "Like it?" "Yes." "What's your favorite book?"
If I delight in Scott, I love Fielding, and Richardson, and Sterne, and Goldsmith, and Defoe. Yes, and I will add Cooper and Marryat, Miss Edgeworth and Miss Austen to confine myself to those who are already classics, to our own country, and to one form of art alone, and not to venture on the ground of contemporary romance in general.
Marryat, who was born in 1792, died at Langham, Norfolk, August 9, 1848. The following is the list of his published works: I am about to write a very curious history, as the reader will agree with me when he has read this book.
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