"Although not handsome," says Mrs Lean, "Captain Marryat's personal appearance was very prepossessing. In figure he was upright and broad-shouldered for his height, which measured 5ft. 10in. His hands, without being undersized, were remarkably perfect in form, and modelled by a sculptor at Rome on account of their symmetry. The character of his mind was borne out by his features, the most salient expression of which was the frankness of an open heart. The firm decisive mouth, and massive thoughtful forehead were redeemed from heaviness by the humorous light that twinkled in his deep-set grey eyes, which, bright as diamonds, positively flashed out their fun, or their reciprocation of the fun of others. As a young man, dark crisp curls covered his head; but later in life, when, having exchanged the sword for the pen and the plougshare [sic], he affected a soberer and more patriarchal style of dress and manner, he wore his grey hair long, and almost down to his shoulder. His eyebrows were not alike, one being higher up and more arched than the other, which peculiarity gave his face a look of enquiry, even in repose. In the upper lip was a deep cleft, and in the chin as deep a dimple."
Christopher North describes Captain Marryat as "a captain in the navy, and an honour to it—an admirable sailor, and an admirable writer—and would that he were with us on the leads, my lads, for a pleasanter fellow, to those who know him, never enlivened the social board." It is evident, indeed, that an intimate knowledge of his character was necessary to its appreciation, for his daughter declares that "like most warm-hearted people he was quick to take offence, and no one could have decided, after an absence of six months, with whom he was friends, and with whom he was not." One of the said friends wrote truly:—
"His faults proceeded from an over-active mind, which could never be quiet—morning, noon, or night. If he had no one to love, he quarrelled for want of something better to do; he planned for himself and for everybody, and changed his mind ten times a-day."
"Many people have asked," says Mrs Lean "whether Captain Marryat, when at home, was not 'very funny.' No, decidedly not. In society, with new topics to discuss, and other wits about him on which to sharpen his own —or, like flint and steel, to emit sparks by friction—he was as gay and humorous as the best of them; but at home he was always a thoughtful, and, at times, a very grave man; for he was not exempt from those ills that all flesh is heir to, and had his sorrows and his difficulties and moments of depression, like the rest of us. At such times it was dangerous to thwart and disturb him, for he was a man of strong passions and indomitable determination."
It is not difficult to conceive the character in outline—"wise English-hearted Captain Marryat," Kingsley calls him. He was incapable of any mean low vices, but his zest for pleasure was keen, and never restrained by motives of prudence or consideration for others. His strong passions at times made him disagreeably selfish and overbearing, qualities forgiven by acquaintances for his social brilliancy, and by friends for his frank affection. With some business talents and practical shrewdness, he was quite incapable of wisely conducting his affairs, by reason of a mania for speculation and originality. There was considerable waste of good material in his fiery composition.
His books reveal the higher standard of his true nature. Their merits and faults are alike on the surface. Lockhart declared that "he stood second in merit to no living novelist but Miss Edgeworth. His happy delineations and contrasts of character, and easy play of native fun, redeem a thousand faults of verbosity, clumsiness, and coarseness. His strong sense, and utter superiority to affectation of all sorts, command respect, and in his quiet effectiveness of circumstantial narrative he sometimes approaches old Defoe."
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. His crises are the more effective from the absence of any studied introduction or thunderous comment; and he carries his readers through stirring adventures of storm and battle with a business-like precision that silences doubt. He breathes the spirit of the sea, himself a genuine sailor, almost as childlike and simple as one of his own creations. His books are real voyages, in which a day of bustle and danger is followed by peace and quiet, yarns on the quarter-deck, and some practical joking among the middies.
He delights in the exhibition of oddities, and the telling of tall stories outside the regular course of the narrative, which bubbles over with somewhat boisterous fun. And his humour is genuine and spontaneous; it is farcical without descending to buffoonery. His comic types are built up on character, and, if not subtle, are undeniably human and living. They are drawn, moreover, with sympathy.
The whole tone of Marryat's work is singularly fresh, wholesome, and manly. His heroes endure rough handling, but they fight their way, for the most part, to the essential qualities of gentlemen. They are no saints; but excellent comrades, honest lovers, and brave tars.