The dining and sitting-rooms were
hung with the original water-colour drawings - mostly by
Stanfield, I think - which illustrated his minor works.
Trophies from all parts of the world garnished the walls.
The only inmates beside us two were his son, a strange, but
clever young man with considerable artistic abilities, and
his talented daughter, Miss Florence, since so well known to
novel readers.
Often as I had spoken to Marryat, I never could quite make
him out. Now that I was his guest his habitual reserve
disappeared, and despite his failing health he was geniality
itself. Even this I did not fully understand at first. At
the dinner-table his amusement seemed, I won't say to make a
'butt' of me - his banter was too good-natured for that - but
he treated me as Dr. Primrose treated his son after the
bushel-of-green-spectacles bargain. He invented the most
wonderful stories, and told them with imperturbable
sedateness. Finding a credulous listener in me, he drew all
the more freely upon his invention. When, however, he
gravely asserted that Jonas was not the only man who had
spent three days and three nights in a whale's belly, but
that he himself had caught a whale with a man inside it who
had lived there for more than a year on blubber, which, he
declared, was better than turtle soup, it was impossible to
resist the fooling, and not forget that one was the Moses of
the extravaganza.
In the evening he proposed that his son and daughter and I
should act a charade. Napier was the audience, and Marryat
himself the orchestra - that is, he played on his fiddle such
tunes as a ship's fiddler or piper plays to the heaving of
the anchor, or for hoisting in cargo. Everyone was in
romping spirits, and notwithstanding the cheery Captain's
signs of fatigue and worn looks, which he evidently strove to
conceal, the evening had all the freshness and spirit of an
impromptu pleasure.
When I left, Marryat gave me his violin, with some sad words
about his not being likely to play upon it more. Perhaps he
knew better than we how prophetically he was speaking.
Barely three weeks afterwards I learnt that the humorous
creator of 'Midshipman Easy' would never make us laugh again.
In 1846 Lord John Russell succeeded Sir Robert Peel as
premier. At the General Election, a brother of mine was the
Liberal candidate for the seat in East Norfolk. He was
returned; but was threatened with defeat through an
occurrence in which I was innocently involved.
The largest landowner in this division of the county, next to
my brother Leicester, was Lord Hastings - great-grandfather
of the present lord. On the occasion I am referring to, he
was a guest at Holkham, where a large party was then
assembled.
