#reading marryat

[marryat92]

Today is the 175th anniversary of Captain Marryat's death: 9 August 1848, he was 56 years old.

Unlike his birthday (July 10th), which usually involves a cake and thoughts on how much Marryat's works have enriched my life; his death anniversary is usually when I reflect on Marryat's lost opportunities. He left young children behind who needed their dad, he left many unwritten stories. I used to contemplate what if he had lived longer, would he have turned away from children's books and written a more serious autobiographical work? Or even revise The Naval Officer (Frank Mildmay) like he swore he would do (and never did).

As much as I know all kinds of errata about Marryat's life (and have joked about knowing too much of his family gossip), there is a lot about him still unknowable. Marryat is very Present as a narrator and personality in his books for adults, and he reveals a lot, but sometimes he plays his cards close. You don't hear about Marryat's children outside of marriage (who almost certainly existed); you don't hear about his Black family including his half-sister Ann Marryat, daughter of Joseph Marryat Sr. and an enslaved woman, Fanny, who lived in the West Indies with slaves of her own.

That fact is from Children of Uncertain Fortune: Mixed-Race Jamaicans in Britain and the Atlantic Family, 1733-1833, by Daniel Livesay. It's definitely not in Marryat's letters or his biographies—not even his most recent biography, written in 2000. His unsavoury family definitely sheds some light on his attitudes and beliefs. No, I don't think Frederick Marryat was as terrible as his awful father, but he was still connected to his world.

[marryat92]

To proceed.

I feel like this is a highly characteristic phrase from Marryat, and I searched an ebook of his collected works for proof.

To proceed. As usual in cases of defeat [...]

But to proceed. The next morning I called upon the old gentleman [...]

— The King’s Own

But to proceed: — The man and boy, who, with Newton, composed the whole crew [...]

To proceed: Captain L — went over the side [...]

To proceed. The merchant ships of the Company are men-of-war [...]

— Newton Forster

I could proceed with more examples, but I think this is enough for now. It's such a Marryat phrase because he's always digressing, and then he announces that he's returning to the main plot.

Marryat's discursive writing style is a feature, not a bug, but he proceeds a lot.

[marryat92]

His books have been criticised for their faulty construction and lack of plot, and also for the artificiality of his feminine characters. This criticism may be deserved, for Marryat was at his best in descriptive narrative when dealing with the subjects he had at his fingers' ends, ships and the sea.

Some of the outstanding passages in his earlier naval books take their place among the finest sea descriptions in the English language. Written with an economy of words and a simple sincerity, they compel those who read them to visualise the scenes in all their stark nakedness, to be convinced that Marryat was describing what he himself had seen. [...] As a true picture of life in the Navy in the early nineteenth century his naval novels stand unsurpassed.

— Captain H. Taprell Dorling, Men O' War

'The Sailor's Description of a Sea Fight': c. 1819-1825 watercolour attributed to Lt. John Sheringham.

[marryat92]

Patrick Brantlinger's book Rule of Darkness: British Literature and Imperialism, 1830–1914 has been a great asset to me in examining themes of imperialism, racism, and colonialism in Captain Marryat's works, as well as placing him in his context of Victorian cultural and literary history. It's slightly dated at this point (originally published in 1988), but still very relevant.

But Brantlinger unfortunately treats Marryat as primarily a writer for children, and he also just hates the guy. He tends to read him without nuance, flattens the moral ambiguity of his stories, and at one point he refers to Marryat's literary colleagues who were also ex-Royal Navy (Frederick Chamier, William Nugent Glascock, William Johnson Neale, etc.) as his SEAGOING CRONIES. (I put the book down and started laughing, at that point.)

There is a light-hearted anecdote in The Life and Letters of Captain Frederick Marryat about Marryat having some improperly cured animal hides on display in his home, which then attracted insects, as told by his daughter Florence—who clearly loved her father but was not above making fun of him. (After angrily insisting that nothing was wrong, Captain Marryat finally admitted the problem and sent the infested hides to be treated).

Brantlinger assumes that it is "perhaps some satisfaction for the modern reader" to learn about this incident, which also cracks me up. Like, there was no need to include this in a literary analysis, but he is just filled with glee to think of some embarrassment happening to Marryat.

[marryat92]

Really one of the most sly and clever parts of Mr. Midshipman Easy is the fact that Jack Easy is an insufferable hypocrite. He goes on and on about the equality of man, but because he thinks he's an Enlightened Intellectual and not because he truly believes in it. There are countless examples of Jack pulling rank on people he thinks are beneath him—and this is when he's still a young idealist; by the end of the book he embraces his privilege and literally becomes a Tory politician.

I was just laughing over teenage Jack, busted trespassing on a neighbour's property and helping himself to the well-stocked fishing pond. Jack's verbose argument that private property shouldn't exist doesn't impress the proprietor, who instructs his groundskeepers to get rid of him.

“Sir, I beg your pardon, you have not yet heard all my arguments,” replied Jack, who did not approve of the conclusions drawn.

“I have no time to hear more, Mr. Easy: I wish you a good morning.” And the proprietor departed, leaving Jack in company with the keepers.

“I’ll trouble you for that rod, master,” said William. James was very busy stringing the fish through the gills upon a piece of osier.

“At all events you will hear reason,” said Jack. “I have arguments—”

“I never heard no good arguments in favour of poaching,” interrupted the keeper.

“You’re an insolent fellow,” replied Jack. “It is by paying such vagabonds as you that people are able to be guilty of injustice.”

“It’s by paying us that the land an’t poached — and if there be some excuse for a poor devil who is out of work, there be none for you, who call yourself a gentleman.”

“According to his ‘count, as we be all equal, he be no more a gentleman than we be.”

“Silence, you blackguard, I shall not condescend to argue with such as you: if I did I could prove that you are a set of base slaves, who have just as much right to this property as your master or I have.”

“As you have, I dare say, master.”

“As I have, you scoundrel; this pond is as much my property, and so are the fish in it, as they are of your master, who has usurped the right.”

“I say, James, what do you say, shall we put the young gentleman in possession of his property?” said William, winking to the other.

William took the hint; they seized Jack by the arms and legs, and soused him into the pond.

[marryat92]

I love Frank "mederick farryat" Mildmay fakename. Love a narrator who opens his book like, "hi. i'm a privileged little shit and an awful person. Want to see me commit war crimes? I have probably more than one child out of wedlock but they conveniently disappear from my narrative. I'm in a great mood right now and NOT emotionally disturbed from PTSD. anyway, I get a happy ending."

(inspired by this classic tweet)

[marryat92]

For there is often a contrast between the ardent humanity of Marryat’s principles and the cruelty (occasionally the ‘caddishness’ even) of his humour. This is not to impute insincerity to his professions of a benevolent faith. He was an impulsive and generous friend, whether to cause or individual; nor did he ever shirk the possible evil consequences to himself of theories espoused or victims championed. But he had a love of horse-play, characteristic alike of the service in his time and of the great writers of the eighteenth century from whom he held direct inspirational descent. This liking for boisterous gaiety led him occasionally to involve his heroes in jokes of very questionable taste.

— Michael Sadleir, “Marryat: A Portrait”

Illustration from an 1896 edition of Marryat’s Percival Keene. The cruel teacher Mr. O’Gallagher, who often threatens students with a “blow-up” (a beating), is himself blown up with fireworks in a prank by Percival that also destroys the school.

[marryat92]

In lieu of finding a boat picture today, I will offer my Quickstart Guide to Reading Marryat, if you are looking for one of his books to pick up:

Does the book have a cool title? It's probably bad! e.g. The Pirate and The Phantom Ship, two of Marryat's weakest and most disappointing offerings.

Does the book have a weird clunky title and/or it's the main character's name? Probably worth your while! e.g. Frank Mildmay, Japhet in Search of a Father, Jacob Faithful.