No More Learning

King Edward-
No, no: for if thou mean'st to murder me,
Thou wilt return again; and therefore stay. [Sleeps. )
Lightborn - He sleeps.
King Edward [waking] -
Oh, let me not die yet! Oh, stay a while!
Lightborn — How now, my lord ?
King Edward -
Something still buzzeth in mine ears,
And tells me if I sleep I never wake;
This fear is that which makes me tremble thus.
And therefore tell me, Wherefore art thou come?
Lightborn To rid thee of thy life. — Matrevis, come!
Enter Matrevis and Gurney
King Edward -
I am too weak and feeble to resist :
Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul!
Lightborn - Run for the table.
King Edward -
Oh, spare me, or dispatch me in a trice.
Matrevis brings in a table. )


## p. 9727 (#135) ###########################################

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
9727
Lightborn — So, lay the table down, and stamp on it,
But not too hard, lest that you bruise his body.
King Edward is murdered. ]
Matrev'is — I fear me that this cry will raise the town,
And therefore, let us take horse and away.
Lightborn Tell me, sirs, was it not bravely done?
Gurney - Excellent well: take this for thy reward.
[Gurney stabs Lightborn, who dies. ]
Come, let us cast the body in the moat,
And bear the King's to Mortimer our lord !
Away!
[Exeunt with the bodies.
FROM THE JEW OF MALTA)
ARABAS
B*
So that of thus much that return was made;
And of the third part of the Persian ships,
There was the venture summed and satisfied.
As for those Sabans, and the men of Uz,
That bought my Spanish oils and wines of Greece,
Here have I purst their paltry silverlings.
Fie; what a trouble 'tis to count this trash!
Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay
The things they traffic for with wedge of gold,
Whereof a man may easily in a day
Tell that which may maintain him all his life.
The needy groom that never fingered groat
Would make a miracle of thus much coin;
But he whose steel-barred coffers are crammed full,
And all his lifetime hath been tired,
Wearying his fingers' ends with telling it,
Would in his age be loth to labor so,
And for a pound to sweat himself to death.
Give me the merchants of the Indian mines,
That trade in metal of the purest mold;
The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks
Without control can pick his riches up,
And in his house heap pearls like pebble-stones,
Receive them free, and sell them by the weight;
Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts,
Jacinths, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds,


## p. 9728 (#136) ###########################################

9728
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds,
And seld-seen costly stones of so great price,
As one of them indifferently rated,
And of a carat of this quantity,
May serve in peril of calamity
To ransom great kings from captivity.
This is the ware wherein consists my wealth;
And thus methinks should men of judgment frame
Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade,
And as their wealth increaseth, so inclose
Infinite riches in a little room.
These are the blessings promised to the Jews,
And herein was old Abram's happiness:
What more may Heaven do for earthly man
Than thus to pour out plenty in their laps,
Ripping the bowels of the earth for them,
Making the seas their servants, and the winds
To drive their substance with successful blasts ?
Who hateth me but for my happiness?
Or who is honored now but for his wealth ?
Rather had I a Jew be hated thus,
Than pitied in a Christian poverty:
For I can see no fruits in all their faith,
But malice, falsehood, and excessive pride,
Which methinks fits not their profession.
Haply some hapless man hath conscience,
And for his conscience lives in beggary.
They say
we are a scattered nation;
I cannot tell, but we have scambled up
More wealth by far than those that brag of faith.
There's Kirriah Jairim, the great Jew of Greece,
Obed in Bairseth, Nones in Portugal,
Myself in Malta, some in Italy,
Many in France, and wealthy every one;
Ay, wealthier far than any Christian.
I must confess we come not to be kings:
That's not our fault; alas, our number's few,
And crowns come either by succession,
Or urged by force; and nothing violent,
Oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.
Give us a peaceful rule; make Christians kings,
That thirst so much for principality.


## p. 9729 (#137) ###########################################

9729
CLÉMENT MAROT
(1497-1544)
顯
​HE quality that gives a peculiar charm to the verses of Marot
is the blending of gayety and gravity. With light touches
he expresses serious feeling, and the sincerity of his senti-
ment suffers no wrong from the fantastic dress of the period. His
Muse wears a particolored robe; not that of Folly, but a garment of
rich and noble patches, in which velvets and brocades oddly harmon-
ize with the homespun they strengthen and adorn. It is because
they are the velvets and brocades of the Renaissance, any scrap
or shred of which had a decorative value.
And still another material is to be observed:
the strong linen of the Reformation, whose
whiteness endues with the more pictur-
esqueness the brilliant colors.
The poetic life of Clément Marot opened
on the plane of pedantry, and closed on
that of preaching; but between these two
conditions - each of them the consequence
of the influences of the time — his own indi-
viduality asserted itself in countless humor-
ous, delicate, charming, exquisite epistles »
and "elegies,” “epitaphs” and “étrennes »
and “ballades,” “dizains,” rondeaux,” and CLÉMENT MAROT
(chansons, and in "epigrammes,” — some of
them coarse and cynical, and some to be counted among his best and
most original work. He wrote also eclogues”; and one on the death
of the queen mother, Luise of Savoie, is considered a masterpiece.
Two other kinds of composition in which he also excelled had in the
sixteenth century a great vogue: the “blazon” and the coq à l'âne. ”
The “blazons » were eulogistic or satirical descriptions of different
parts of an object; they were devoted by the gallantry of the day
to the description of a woman's eyebrow or eyes, or hand, or more
intimate parts of the body. The two “blazons” of Marot ("Du Beau
Tetin' and Du Layd Tetin') inspired a whole series of productions of
the same kind from contemporary versifiers. The pieces called “coq
à l'âne” were, before Marot, a jeu d'esprit of incoherent verses. Marot
gave them a new character by making able use of this apparent
incoherency to veil satirical attacks on formidable enemies.
XVII—609

»
»
»
(
>


## p. 9730 (#138) ###########################################

9730
CLÉMENT MAROT
It has been prettily said that he was as the bee among poets, -
delicately winged, honey-making, and with a sting for self-defense.
Born in 1497, the son of a secretary of Queen Anne of Brittany,
in 1515 the youthful poet presented to the youthful King (Francis
the First) a poetical composition, the longest he ever wrote, entitled
Le Temple de Cupido. ' In 1519 he - "Le Despourveu,” as he styled
himself -- was attached to the court of Marguerite (the sister of
Francis), then the Duchesse d'Alençon. Five years later he became
one of her pensioners, and through all his after life he was cared
for and protected by her. In 1528 he was made one of the King's
household, and at this moment his powers attained their highest
point. The court, as he himself says, was his true “schoolmistress. ”
In 1532 appeared the first collection of his verses.
But for some years previously his half-heretical opinions had
drawn trouble upon him, protest as he might
« Point ne suis Lutheriste,
Ne Zuinglien, et moins Anabaptiste;
Je suis de Dieu par son fils Jesuchrist. ”
a
(
In 1526 he suffered imprisonment for a few weeks, and this imprison-
ment was the occasion of a long poem entitled Hell,' — a satire
on the tribunal and prison of the Châtelet. This «si gentil æuvre »
was first printed at Antwerp, and was reprinted some years later by
Estienne Dolet, “in the most beautiful form,” he says, and with the
most ornament possible to me, . . because in reading it I have
found it free from anything scandalous respecting God and religion,
and not containing anything against the majesty of princes. ” It was
of such crimes that Marot had been accused.
In 1531 he was again brought before the Parliament, and once
more he was summoned in 1535. The matter now looked so serious
that he thought it best to fly to Ferrara, to the court of Renée of
France, where he found himself in company with Calvin. The per-
sonal unhappiness of the Princess Renée made a profound impression
on Marot. He saw this ardent protectress of the Protestants to be
sadly in need herself of protection; and more than once, at this time
and later, he addressed to her, and to others regarding her, strains of
heartfelt compassion.
Her ducal husband Ercole d'Este — the enemy
of her friends-swept out of the city as with a besom all her pro-
tégés as often as he could; and Marot was soon obliged to make his
way to Venice.
Within the year, however, he received permission to
return to France, and was once more high in the King's favor.
But the immense, wide-spread success of a translation of some of
the Psalms he now made again roused the Sorbonne; and he was
forced to take refuge at Turin, where he died in 1544.
later his friend Estienne Dolet was burned at the stake.
Two years


## p. 9731 (#139) ###########################################

CLÉMENT MAROT
9731
Such was the outward career of this vivid, eager poet. He was
perhaps, in his relations to the world, audacious rather than bold;
in his relations to the other world, a lover of novelty rather than
of truth; as a man, somewhat vain and boastful, somewhat licen-
tious in a licentious age, - but he wrote verses that disarm criticism.
In reading the best of them, one is persuaded for the moment that
nothing is so enchanting as spontaneity, gayety, grace, quickness,
keenness, unimpassioned sentiment and natural courtesy, and the
philosophy that jests at personal misfortunes, flowing from a heart
of tenderness. Admiration of another kind also is excited in remem-
bering that this poet, whose epistles to “the great ” — to the King
and his sister - are almost in the tone of equal addressing equal, was
after all, nominally their servant, actually their dependent. A foolish
legend has prevailed that the relations between Marot and the Queen
of Navarre were of extreme intimacy. There is absolutely nothing to
justify such a belief. The attachment between them — respectful on
both sides was only one of the illustrations of the relations brought
about by the Renaissance between crowned heads and men of letters.
The long Epistles of Marot are his most interesting productions.
He was the creator of the “épître-badine,” and he has never been
surpassed in this kind of writing. The Epistle to Lyon Jamet, con-
taining the fable of the rat and the lion, is the most famous; but its
length and the exquisite quality of its style forbid any attempt at
its reproduction here. In his Epistles, as elsewhere in his work, the
best and most characteristic and the gayest verses of Marot are of
extreme difficulty to translate. Their form is their very substance:
change even the mere sound of a word, and its meaning is gone.
He, like La Fontaine,- there are many similarities between the two,
can be known only by those who can read him in the original.
The following translations can scarcely do more than show the sub-
jects of the verses selected, and the general tone.
Marot exercised no durable influence, though his style was
marked that it became a generic designation -"le style Marotique. ”
But “le style Marotique” means different things according to the
person using the phrase. Marmontel defines it as “a medley of
phrases vulgar and noble, old-fashioned and modern. ” La Harpe said
"a (style Marotique) is one that has the gay, agreeable, simple,
natural manner peculiar to Marot. ” La Harpe's definition is the truer,
that of Marmontel the one most generally accepted.
SO
)


## p. 9732 (#140) ###########################################

9732
CLÉMENT MAROT
OLD-TIME LOVE
N GOOD old days such sort of love held sway
As artlessly and simply made its way,
And a few flowers, the gift of love sincere,
Than all the round earth's riches were more dear:
IN
For to the heart alone did they address their lay.
And if they chanced to love each other, pray
Take heed how well they then knew how to stay
For ages faithful — twenty, thirty year —
In good old days.
But now is lost Love's rule they used t’ obey;
Only false tears and changes fill the day.
Who would have me a lover now appear
Must love make over in the olden way,
And let it rule as once it held its sway
In good old days.
EPIGRAM
N°
LONGER am I what I have been,
Nor again can ever be;
My bright Springtime and my Summer
Through the window flew from me.
Love, thou hast ever been my master,
I've served no other God so well;
Oh, were I born a second time, Love,
Then my service none could tell.
TO A LADY WHO WISHED TO BEHOLD MAROT
B
EFORE she saw me, reading in my book,
She loved me; then she wished to see iny face:
Now she has seen me, gray, and swart of look,
Yet none the less remain I in her grace.
O gentle heart, inaiden of worthy race,
You do not err: for this my body frail,
It is not I; naught is it but my jail :
And in the writings that you once did read,
Your lovely eyes — so may the truth avail —
Saw me more truly than just now, indeed.


## p. 9733 (#141) ###########################################

CLÉMENT MAROT
9733
THE LAUGH OF MADAME D'ALBRET
SHF
He has indeed a throat of lovely whiteness,
The sweetest speech, and fairest cheeks and eyes;
But in good sooth her little laugh of lightness
Is where her chiefest charm, to my thought, lies.
With its gay note she can make pleasure rise,
Where'er she hap to be, withouten fail;
And should a bitter grief me e'er assail,
So that my life by death may threatened be,
To bring me back to health will then avail
To hear this laugh with which she slayeth me.
FROM AN (ELEGY »
Th
Hy lofty place, thy gentle heart,
Thy wisdom true in every part,
Thy gracious mien, thy noble air,
Thy singing sweet, and speech so fair,
Thy robe that does so well conform
To the nature of thy lovely form:
In short, these gifts and charins whose grace
Invests thy soul and thee embrace,
Are not what has constrained me
To give my heart's true love to thee.
'Twas thy sweet smile which me perturbed,
And from thy lips a gracious word
Which from afar made me to see
Thou'd not refuse to hear my plea.
Come, let us make one heart of two!
Better work we cannot do;
For 'tis plain our starry guides,
The accord of our lives besides,
Bid this be done. For of us each
Is like the other in thought and speech:
We both love men of courtesy,
We both love honor and purity,
We both love never to speak evil,
We both love pleasant talk that's civil,
We both love being in those places
Where rarely venture saddened faces,
We both love merry music's measure,
We both in books find frequent pleasure.


## p. 9734 (#142) ###########################################

9734
CLÉMENT MAROT
What more is there? Just this to sing
I'll dare: in almost everything
Alike we are, save hearts;— for thine
Is much more hard, alas! than mine.
Beseech thee now this rock demolish,
Yet not thy sweeter parts abolish.
THE DUCHESS D'ALENÇON
S
UCH lofty worth has she, my great mistress,
That her fair body's upright, pure, and fine;
Her steadfast heart, when Fortune's star doth shine,
Is ne'er too light, nor elsetimes in distress.
Her spirit rare than angels is no less,
The subtlest sure that e'er the heavens bred.
O marvel great! Now can it clear be seen
That I the slave am of a wonder dread. -
Wonder, I say, for sooth she has, I ween,
A woman's form, man's heart, and angel's head.
TO THE QUEEN OF NAVARRE
M
OURN for the dead, let who will for them mourn;-
But while I live, my heart is most forlorn
For those whose night of sorrow sees no dawn
On this earth.
( Flower of France whom at the first I served,
Those thou hast freed from pain that them unnerved
Have given pain to thee, ah! undeserved,
I'll attest.
Of ingrates thou hast sadly made full test;
But since I left thee (bound by stern behest), -
Not leaving thee, - full humbly I've addrest
A princess
Who has a heart that does not sorrow less
Than thine. Ah God! shall I ne'er know mistress,
Before I die, whose eye on sad distress
Is not bent?
Is not my Muse as fit and apt to invent
A song of peace that would bring full content
As chant the bitterness of this torment
Exceeding ?


## p. 9735 (#143) ###########################################

CLÉMENT MAROT
9735
Ah! listen, Margaret, to the suffering
That in the heart of Renée plants its sting;
Then, sister-like, than hope more comforting,
Console her.
FROM A LETTER TO THE KING; AFTER BEING ROBBED
I
HAD of late a Gascon serving-man:
A monstrous liar, glutton, drunkard, both,
A trickster, thief, and every word an oath,-
The rope almost around his neck, you see, -
But otherwise the best of fellows he.
This very estimable youngster knew
Of certain money given me by you:
A mighty swelling in my purse he spied;
Rose earlier than usual, and hied
To take it deftly, giving no alarm,
And tucked it snugly underneath his arm,-
Money and all, of course, - and it is plain
'Twas not to give it back to me again,
For never have I seen it, to this day.
But still the rascal would not run away
For such a trifling bagatelle as that,
So also took cloak, trousers, cape, and hat,-
In short, of all my clothes the very best,
And then himself so finely in them dressed
That to behold him, e'en by light of day,
It was his master surely, you would say.
He left my chamber finally, and flew
Straight to the stable, where were horses two;
Left me the worst, and mounted on the best,
His charger spurred, and bolted; for the rest,
You may be sure that nothing he omitted,
Save bidding me good-by, before he quitted.
So— ticklish round the throat, to say the truth,
But looking like St. George — this hopeful youth
Rode off, and left his master sleeping sound,
Who waking, not a blessed penny found.
This master was myself,— the very one,-
And quite dumbfounded to be thus undone;
To find myself without a decent suit,
And vexed enough to lose my horse, to boot.


## p. 9736 (#144) ###########################################

9736
CLÉMENT MAROT
But for the money you had given me,
The losing it ought no surprise to be;
For, as your gracious Highness understands,
Your money, Sire, is ever changing hands.
FROM A RHYMED LETTER TO THE KING
I
AT THE TIME OF His Exile AT FERRARA — 1535
THINK it may be that your Majesty, Sovereign King, may be.
lieve that my absence is occasioned by my feeling the prick
of some ill deed; but it is not so, for I do not feel myself to
be of the number of the guilty: but I know of many corruptible
judges in Paris, who, for pecuniary gain, or for friends, or for
their own ends, or in tender grace and charity to some fair
humble petitioner, will save the foul and guilty life of the most
wicked criminal in the world; while on the other hand, for lack
of bribing or protection, or from rancor, they are to the inno-
cent so inhuman that I am loth to fall into their hands.
They are much my enemies because of their hell, which I
have set in a writing, wherein some few of their wicked wiles I
lay bare. They wish great harm to me for a small work.
As much as they, and with no good cause, wishes ill to me
the ignorant Sorbonne. Very ignorant she shows herself in being
the enemy of the noble trilingual academy [Collège de France)
your Majesty has created. It is clearly manifest that within her
precincts, against your Majesty's will is prohibited all teaching
of Hebrew or Greek or Latin, she declaring it heretical. O poor
creatures, all denuded of learning, you make true the familiar
proverb, “Knowledge has no such haters as the ignorant. ”
They have given me the name of Lutheran. I answer them
that it is not so. Luther for me has not descended from
heaven. Luther for my sins has not hung upon the cross; and
I am quite sure that in his name I have not been baptized: I
have been baptized in that Name at whose naming the Eternal
Father gives that which is asked for, the sole Name in and by
which this wicked world can find salvation.
O Lord God
grant that whilst I live, my pen may
be employed in thy honor; and if this my body be predestined
by thee one day to be destroyed by fire, grant that it be for no
light cause, but for thee and for thy Word. And I pray thee,
Father, that the torture may not be so intense that my soul may
be sunk in forgetfulness of thee, in whom is all iny trust.
(


## p. 9737 (#145) ###########################################

9737
FREDERICK MARRYAT
(1792-1848)
Hough it is nearly half a century since Captain Frederick
Marryat passed away, he still lives in his sea stories. The
circulating-library copies are dog's-eared with constant use,
and an occasional new edition testifies to the favor of a younger gen-
eration. His most ardent admirers, however, do not rank him among
the great novelists. He had no theories of fiction; he had little cult-
ure, and of philosophy or psychology he did not dream. But there
is life, energy, directness in his tales, coupled with lively narrative
and spontaneous humor which keep them
fresh and interesting. He is a born story-
teller; and the talent of the story-teller
commands attention and enchains an audi-
ence, whatever the defects of manner.
Marryat was descended from a Huguenot
family that fled from France at the end of
the sixteenth century and settled in Eng-
land. On his mother's side he was of a
German stock, transplanted to Boston, and
there etherealized, perhaps, by east winds
and Yankee cultivation. He boasted indeed
of the blood of four different peoples. He
was the second son of Joseph Marryat of FREDERICK MARRYAT
Wimbledon, Member of Parliament for Sand-
wich, and was born in London. Educated at private schools, he
was noted from his early boyhood for his boisterous and refractory
though not unamiable temper, which often involved him in passion-
ate quarrels with his teachers, and resulted in his running away.
After he had run away repeatedly, and always with the intention of
going to sea, his father, yielding to his determined bent, got him
at the age of fourteen on board the frigate Impérieuse as midship-
His ship was engaged as part of the squadron which supported
the Catalonians against the French. His service there was active
and brilliant: he took part in some fifty engagements, in one of
which he was severely wounded and left for dead. His pugnacity
saved him; for the contemptuous kick of a fellow midshipman, whom
he hated, roused a fury in him that overcame his speechless and

man.


## p. 9738 (#146) ###########################################

9738
FREDERICK MARRYAT
a
apparently lifeless condition. The work of his division was cutting
out privateers, storming batteries, and destroying marine signal tele-
graph stations. Long afterwards he portrayed the daring and judg-
ment of his commander, Lord Cochrane, in the characters of Captain
Savage in Peter Simple, and Captain M- in 'The King's Own.
Marryat was man of a personal daring as reckless as that
of his favorite heroes. Again and again he risked his life to save
drowning men or to protect his superiors. More than once he re-
ceived the medal of the Humane Society, and King Louis Philippe
decorated him with the cross of the Legion of Honor. A life of
great exposure, constant danger, and severe exertion ruined his health;
and before he was forty he resolved to leave the sea and devote
himself to story-writing. He took many of his characters and inci-
dents from real life, copying them closely in the main, but exagger-
ating and coloring them to meet the purposes of fiction. While not
without imagination, he depended so greatly on his observation and
experience that many of his novels may be said to be almost auto-
biographic. To this fact they owe much of their naturalness, vivid-
ness, and verisimilitude. His ample fund of rough humor and his
extraordinary fondness for spinning yarns.
- a characteristic which
belongs to the nautical temperament -contributed their best quali-
ties to his books; giving them not only the hue and quality, but
the very sound and odor of the sea. One of his old shipmates, who
lived hale and hearty to be an octogenarian, used to say that to read
Midshipman Easy) or (Jacob Faithful' was exactly like spending
half a day in the Captain's company in his best mood. There is
very little art in his thirty-five or forty volumes. They are the nar-
ratives of a bluff, bold, thorough-going, somewhat coarse sailor, who
has a strong dramatic sense and an intense relish for fun. Hardly
any of his novels have what deserves to be called a plot, - the King's
Own' and one or two others, perhaps, being exceptions,— nor are
they generally finished, or even carefully studied. Frequently they
read like half-considered, uncorrected manuscripts that have been dic-
tated. The principal events are graphically recorded, the minor cir-
cumstances and their connections loosely woven. But with all their
defects, the stories seem to the ordinary reader more as if they
had actually happened than as if they had been invented. They are
entirely realistic, -- the characters being perfectly vitalized, ar ting,
breathing human beings.
Among Marryat's best known novels, besides those already men-
tioned, are Adventures of a Naval Officer; or, Frank Mildmay,' his
first work, published at twenty-eight; Newton Forster,) (The Pacha of
Many Tales, (The Pirate and the Three Cutters, Japhet in Search
of a Father,' (Peter Simple,' Percival Keene,' (Snarley-Yow,' 'The


## p. 9739 (#147) ###########################################

FREDERICK MARRYAT
9739
>
Phantom Ship, Poor Jack,' and (The Privateersman One Hundred
Years Ago,' all of which had a large sale. He served in the Medi-
terranean, in the East and West Indies, and off the coast of North
America; participating during the war of 1812 in a gunboat fight on
Lake Pontchartrain, just before the battle of New Orleans. In the
same year he was made lieutenant, and after a few inonths com-
mander. At twenty-seven he married a daughter of Sir Stephen
Shairp, and became the father of eleven children. In 1837 he visited
this country; and two years later published A Diary in America,' in
which he ridiculed the republic, -as Mrs. Trollope had done in her
(Domestic Manners,' as Dickens is still believed (by those who have
not read the book) to have done not long after in his American
Notes,' and as he did most viciously in 'Martin Chuzzlewit' to revenge
himself for the uproar over the American Notes. Americans of the
present generation are so much less sensitive than their predecessors,
however, that they are perhaps more inclined to ask whether these
adverse criticisms were not well founded than to resent their severity.
After this journey he produced divers miscellaneous books; among
which Masterman Ready' and 'The Settlers in Canada' delighted
the boys of two generations, and are still popular. Masterman
Ready' was primarily written because his children wished him to
write a sequel to the Swiss Family Robinson,' which was structur-
ally not feasible; but was also designed to ridicule that priggish
story, and was meant as a protest of naturalness against artificiality.
Fortunate indeed is the owner of an early illustrated edition of Mas-
terman,' portraying that excellent father of a family, Mr. Seagrave,
walking about his fortuitous island, turning over turtles, building
stockades, or gathering cocoanuts, attired in a swallow-tailed coat,
voluminous cravat, trousers severely strapped down under high-heeled
boots, and a tall silk hat which he seemed never to remove.
In his later life Marryat retired to Norfolk, and undertook amateur
farming, with the usual result of heavy losses. He died in 1848 at
Langham; comparatively poor, through carelessness, mismanagement,
and extravagance, although for many years he had earned a large
income. In England Peter Simple and Mr. Midshipman Easy
take rank with Smollett's Peregrine Pickle' and 'Roderick Random. '
Not a few of his characters are as individual and as often cited as
(Tom Bowling' and Jack Hatchway. And if he is somewhat out of
fashion in manner, it is still probable that his naturalness, his racy
dialogue, and his comical incidents, will make him a welcome com-
panion for years to come.
(


## p. 9740 (#148) ###########################################

9740
FREDERICK MARRYAT
PERILS OF THE SEA
From Peter Simple)
W
E CONTINUED our cruise along the coast until we had run
down into the Bay of Arcason, where we captured two or
three vessels and obliged many more to run on shore.
And here we had an instance showing how very important it is
that a captain of a man-of-war should be a good sailor, and have
his ship in such discipline as to be strictly obeyed by his ship's
company. I heard the officers unanimously assert, after the dan-
ger was over, that nothing but the presence of mind which was
shown by Captain Savage could have saved the ship and her
crew. We had chased a convoy of vessels to the bottom of the
bay: the wind was very fresh when we hauled off, after running
them on shore; and the surf on the beach even at that time was
so great, that they were certain to go to pieces before they could
be got afloat again. We were obliged to double-reef the topsails
as soon as we hauled to the wind, and the weather looked very
threatening In an hour afterwards the whole sky was covered
with one black cloud, which sank so low as nearly to touch our
mast-heads; and a tremendous sea, which appeared to have risen
up almost by magic, rolled in upon us, setting the vessel on
dead lee shore. As the night closed in, it blew a dreadful gale,
and the ship was nearly buried with the press of canvas which
she was obliged to carry: for had we sea-room, we should have
been lying-to under storm staysails; but we were forced to carry
on at all risks, that we might claw off shore. The sea broke
over us as we lay in the trough, deluging us with water from
the forecastle aft to the binnacles; and very often, as the ship
descended with a plunge, it was with such force that I really
thought she would divide in half with the violence of the shock.
Double breechings were rove on the guns, and they were further
secured with tackles; and strong cleats nailed behind the trun-
nions; for we heeled over so much when we lurched, that the
guns were wholly supported by the breechings and tackles, and
had one of them broken loose it must have burst right through
the lee side of the ship, and she must have foundered. The cap-
tain, first lieutenant, and most of the officers remained on deck
during the whole of the night: and really, what with the howling
of the wind, the violence of the rain, the washing of the water
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FREDERICK MARRYAT
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(
about the decks, the working of the chain pumps, and the creak-
ing and groaning of the timbers, I thought that we must inevi-
tably have been lost; and I said my prayers at least a dozen times
during the night, for I felt it impossible to go to bed. I had
often wished, out of curiosity, that I might be in a gale of wind;
but I little thought it was to have been a scene of this descrip-
tion, or anything half so dreadful. What made it more appalling
was, that we were on a lee shore; and the consultations of the
captain and officers, and the eagerness with which they looked
out for daylight, told us that we had other dangers to encounter
besides the storm. At last the morning broke, and the lookout
man upon the gangway called out, “Land on the lee beam! ” I
perceived the master dash his feet against the hammock rails as
if with vexation, and walk away without saying a word, and look-
ing very grave.
«Up there, Mr. Wilson,” said the captain to the second lieu-
tenant, «and see how far the land trends forward, and whether
you can distinguish the point. ” The second lieutenant went up
the main rigging, and pointed with his hand to about two points
before the beam.
"Do you see two hillocks inland ? »
“Yes, sir,” replied the second lieutenant.
« Then it is so," observed the captain to the master; "and if
we weather it we shall have more sea-room. Keep her full, and
let her go through the water: do you hear, quartermaster ? ”
"Ay, ay, sir. ”
“Thus, and no nearer, my man. Ease her with a spoke or
two when she sends; but be careful, or she'll take the wheel out
of your hands. ”
It really was a very awful sight. When the ship was in the
trough of the sea, you could distinguish nothing but a waste of
tumultuous water; but when she was borne up on the summit of
the enormous waves, you then looked down, as it were, upon a
low, sandy coast, close to you, and covered with foam and break-
ers. «She behaves nobly,” observed the captain, stepping aft to
the binnacle and looking at the compass: “if the wind does not
baffle us, we shall weather. ” The captain had scarcely time to
make the observation when the sails shivered and flapped like thun-
der. “Up with the helm: what are you about, quartermaster ? ”
« The wind has headed us, sir,” replied the quartermaster
,
coolly.


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FREDERICK MARRYAT
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The captain and master remained at the binnacle watching the
compass; and when the sails were again full, she had broken off
two points, and the point of land was only a little on the lee bow.
“We must wear her round, Mr. Falcon. Hands, wear ship-
ready, oh, ready. ”
"She has come up again,” cried the master, who was at the
binnacle.
“ Hold fast there a minute. How's her head now ? »
"N. N. E. , as she was before she broke off, sir. ”
“Pipe belay,” said the captain. “Falcon,” continued he, if
she breaks off again we may have no room to wear; indeed
there is so little room now that I must run the risk. Which
cable was ranged last night — the best bower ? »
"Yes, sir. ”
“Jump down, then, and see it double-bitted and stoppered at
thirty fathoms. See it well done -- our lives may depend upon
((
it. »
were
The ship continued to hold her course good; and we
within half a mile of the point, and fully expected to weather it,
when again the wet and heavy sails flapped in the wind, and the
ship broke off two points as before. The officers and seamen
were aghast, for the ship's head was right on to the breakers.
"Luff now, all you can, quartermaster,” cried the captain.
" Send the men aft directly. — My lads, there is no room for
words — I am going to club-haul the ship, for there is no time to
wear. The only chance you have of safety is to be cool, watch
my eye, and execute my orders with precision. Away to your
stations for tacking ship. Hands by the best bower anchor. Mr.
Wilson, attend below with the carpenter and his mates ready to
cut away the cable at the moment that I give the order. Silence,
there, fore and aft. Quartermaster, keep her full again for stays.
Mind you, ease the helm down when I tell you. ” About a min-
ute passed before the captain gave any further orders. The ship
had closed-to within a quarter of a mile of the beach, and the
waves curled and topped around us, bearing us down upon the
shore, which presented one continued surface of foam, extending
to within half a cable's length of our position, at which distance
the enormous waves culminated and fell with the report of
thunder. The captain waved his hand in silence to the quarter-
master at the wheel, and the helm was put down.
The ship
turned slowly to the wind, pitching and chopping as the sails
>


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FREDERICK MARRYAT
9743
an
even
were spilling. When she had lost her way, the captain gave the
order, “Let go the anchor. We will haul all at once, Mr. Fal-
con,” said the captain. Not a word was spoken; the men went
to the fore-brace, which had not been manned; most of them
knew, although I did not, that if the ship's head did not go
round the other way, we should be on shore and among the
breakers in half a minute. I thought at the time that the cap-
tain had said that he would haul all the yards at once: there
appeared to be doubt or dissent on the countenance of Mr. Fal-
con, and I was afterwards told that he had not agreed with the
captain; but he was too good an officer (and knew that there was
no time for discussion) to make any remark: and the event proved
that the captain was right. At last the ship was head to wind,
and the captain gave the signal. The yards flew round with such
a creaking noise that I thought the masts had gone over the
side; and the next moment the wind had caught the sails, and
the ship, which for a moment or two had been on
keel, careened over to her gunnel with its force. The captain,
who stood upon the weather hammock-rails, holding by the main-
rigging, ordered the helm amidships, looked full at the sails and
then at the cable, which grew broad upon the weather bow and
held the ship from nearing the shore. At last he cried, "Cut
away the cable ! »
A few strokes of the axes were heard, and
then the cable flew out of the hawse-hole in a blaze of fire, from
the violence of the friction, and disappeared under a huge wave
which struck us on the chess-tree and deluged us with water
fore and aft. But we were now on the other tack, and the ship
regained her way, and we had evidently increased our distance
from the land.
«My lads,” said the captain to the ship's company, "you
have behaved well, and I thank you; but I must tell you hon-
estly that we have more difficulties to get through. We have
to weather a point of the bay on this tack. Mr. Falcon, splice
the mainbrace and call the watch. How's her head, quarter-
master? ”
"S. W. by S. Southerly, sir. ”
“Very well, let her go through the water;” and the captain,
beckoning to the master to follow him, went down into the cabin.
As our immediate danger was over, I went down into the berth
to see if I could get anything for breakfast, where I found
O'Brien and two or three more.
(C
(


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9744
FREDERICK MARRYAT
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(
((
the compass
“ By the powers, it was as nate a thing as ever I saw done,”
observed O'Brien: "the slightest mistake as to time or manage-
ment, and at this moment the flatfish would have been dubbing
at our ugly carcasses. Peter, you're not fond of flatfish, are you,
my boy? We may thank heaven and the captain, I can tell
you that, my lads; but now where's the chart, Robinson ? Hand
me down the parallel rules and compasses, Peter; they are in
the corner of the shelf. Here we are now, a devilish sight too
near this infernal point. Who knows how her head is ? »
"I do, O'Brien: I heard the quartermaster tell the captain
S. W. by S. Southerly. ”
“Let me see, continued O'Brien, variation 27- leeway -
rather too large an allowance of that, I'm afraid: but however,
we'll give her 24 points; the Diomede would blush to make any
more, under any circumstances. Here
now we'll
see; » and O'Brien advanced the parallel rule from the compass
to the spot where the ship was placed on the chart. « Bother!
you see it's as much as she'll do to weather the other point now,
on this tack, and that's what the captain meant when he told us
we had more difficulty. I could have taken my Bible oath that
we were clear of everything, if the wind held. ”
«See what the distance is, O'Brien,” said Robinson.
It was
measured, and proved to be thirteen miles. "Only thirteen miles;
and if we do weather, we shall do very well, for the bay is deep
beyond. It's a rocky point, you see, just by way of variety.
Well, my lads, I've a piece of comfort for you, anyhow. It's not
long that you'll be kept in suspense; for by one o'clock this day,
you'll either be congratulating each other upon your good luck
or you'll be past praying for. Come, put up the chart, for I hate
to look at melancholy prospects; and steward, see what you can
find in the way of comfort. ” Some bread and cheese, with the
remains of yesterday's boiled pork, were put on the table, with a
bottle of rum, procured at the time they spliced the main brace);
but we were all too anxious to eat much, and one by one returned
on deck, to see how the weather was, and if the wind at all
favored us. On deck the superior officers were in conversation
with the captain, who had expressed the same fear that O'Brien
had in our berth. The men, who knew what they had to expect,-
for this sort of intelligence is soon communicated through a
ship,- were assembled in knots, looking very grave, but at the
same time not wanting in confidence. They knew that they could
>


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FREDERICK MARRYÁT
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»
trust to the captain, as far as skill or courage could avail them;
and sailors are too sanguine to despair, even at the last moment.
As for myself, I felt such admiration for the captain, after what
I had witnessed that morning, that whenever the idea came over
me that in all probability I should be lost in a few hours, I could
not help acknowledging how much more serious it was that such
a man should be lost to his country. I do not intend to say that
it consoled me; but it certainly made me still more regret the
chances with which we were threatened.
Before twelve o'clock the rocky point which we so much
dreaded was in sight, broad on the lee bow; and if the low sandy
coast appeared terrible, how much more did this, even at a dis-
tance! the black masses of rock covered with foam, which each
minute dashed up in the air higher than our lower mast-heads.
The captain eyed it for some minutes in silence, as if in calcula-
tion.
"Mr. Falcon,” said he at last, "we must put the mainsail on
her. ”
«She never can bear it, sir. ”
“She must bear it,” was the reply. “Send the men aft to the
mainsheet. See that careful men attend the buntlines. ”
The mainsail was set; and the effect of it upon the ship was
tremendous. She careened over so that her lee channels were
under the water; and when pressed by a sea, the lee side of the
quarter-deck and gangway were afloat. She now reminded me
of a goaded and fiery horse, mad with the stimulus applied;
not rising as before, but forcing herself through whole seas, and
dividing the waves, which poured in one continual torrent from
the forecastle down upon the decks below. Four men
secured to the wheel; the sailors were obliged to cling, to pre-
vent being washed away; the ropes were thrown in confusion to
leeward; the shot rolled out of the lockers, and every eye was
fixed aloft, watching the masts, which were expected every mo-
ment to go over the side. A heavy sea struck us on the broad-
side, and it was some moments before the ship appeared to
recover herself; she reeled, trembled, and stopped her way, as if
it had stupefied her. The first lieutenant looked at the captain,
as if to say, “This will not do. ” "It is our only chance,"
answered the captain to the appeal. That the ship went faster
through the water and held a better wind, was certain; but
just before we arrived at the point, the gale increased in force.
were
(
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FREDERICK MARRYAT
»
>
"If anything starts, we are lost, sir,” observed the first lieutenant
again.
“I am perfectly aware of it,” replied the captain in a calm
tone; « but as I said before, and you must now be aware, it is
our only chance. The consequence of any carelessness or neglect
in the fitting and securing of the rigging will be felt now; and
this danger, if we escape it, ought to remind us how much we
have to answer for if we neglect our duty. The lives of a whole
ship's company may be sacrificed by the neglect or incompetence
of an officer when in harbor. I will pay you the compliment,
Falcon, to say that I feel convinced that the masts of the ship
are as secure as knowledge and attention can make them. ”
The first lieutenant thanked the captain for his good opinion,
and hoped it would not be the last compliment which he paid
him.
"I hope not too; but a few minutes will decide the point. ”
The ship was now within two cables' lengths of the rocky
point; some few of the men I observed to clasp their hands, but
most of them were silently taking off their jackets and kicking
off their shoes, that they might not lose a chance of escape pro-
vided the ship struck.
« 'Twill be touch and go indeed, Falcon,” observed the captain
(for I had clung to the belaying pins, close to them, for the last
half-hour that the mainsail had been set). “Come aft; you and
I must take the helin. We shall want nerve there, and only
there, now. ”
The captain and first lieutenant went aft and took the fore.
spokes of the wheel; and O'Brien, at a sign made by the cap-
tain, laid hold of the spokes behind them. An old quartermaster
kept his station at the fourth. The roaring of the seas on the
rocks, with the howling of the winds, was dreadful; but the sight
was more dreadful than the noise. For a few moments I shut
my eyes, but anxiety forced me to open them again. As near
as I could judge, we were not twenty yards from the rocks at
the time that the ship passed abreast of them. We were in the
midst of the foam, which boiled around us; and as the ship was
driven nearer to them, and careened with the wave, I thought
that our main yard-arm would have touched the rock; and at
this moment a gust of wind came on which laid the ship on her
beam-ends and checked her progress through the water, while
the accumulated noise was deafening. A few moments more the


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9747
ship dragged on; another wave dashed over her and spent itself
upon the rocks, while the spray was dashed back from them and
returned upon the decks. The main rock was within ten yards
of her counter, when another gust of wind laid us on our beam-
ends; the foresail and mainsail split and were blown clean out
of the bolt-ropes — the ship righted, trembling fore and aft.
looked astern; the rocks were to windward on our quarter, and
we were safe. I thought at the time that the ship, relieved of
her courses, and again lifting over the waves, was not a bad
similitude of the relief felt by us all at that moment; and like
her we trembled as we panted with the sudden reaction, and felt
the removal of the intense anxiety which oppressed our breasts.
The captain resigned the helm, and walked aft to look at the
point, which was now broad on the weather quarter. In a min-
ute or two he desired Mr. Falcon to get new sails up and bend
them, and then went below to his cabin. I am sure it was to
thank God for our deliverance; I did most fervently, not only
then, but when I went to my hammock at night. We w
comparatively safe - in a few hours completely so, for, strange
to say, immediately after we had weathered the rocks the gale
abated; and before morning we had a reef out of the topsails.
re now
MRS. EASY HAS HER OWN WAY
From Mr. Midshipman Easy)
T
I"
((
WAS the fourth day after Mrs. Easy's confinement that Mr.
Easy, who was sitting by her bedside in an easy-chair, com-
menced as follows: "I have been thinking, my dear Mrs.
Easy, about the name I shall give this child. ”
Name, Mr. Easy? why, what name should you give it but
your own ?
Not so, my dear,” replied Mr. Easy: "they call all names
proper names, but I think that mine is not. It is the very worst
name in the calendar. ”
Why, what's the matter with it, Mr. Easy ? »
“The matter affects me as well as the boy. Nicodemus is a
long name to write at full length, and Nick is vulgar. Besides,
as there will be two Nicks, they will naturally call my boy Young
Nick, and of course I shall be styled Old Nick, which will be
diabolical. »


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FREDERICK MARRYAT
>
>>
I will ap-
« Well, Mr. Easy, at all events then let me choose the name. ”
“That you shall, my dear; and it was with this view that I
have mentioned the subject so early. ”
“I think, Mr. Easy, I will call the boy after my poor father:
his name shall be Robert. »
“Very well, my dear: if you wish it, it shall be Robert. You
shall have your own way.