It may be taken as proved, then, that Marryat had in abundance that kind of good nature which is displayed when the owner is pleased and happy--of which this may at least be said, that it is vastly superior to no good nature at all. Moreover, we have to consider what things it was that made him displeased and unhappy. Mrs. Ross Church’s qualification to the character just quoted shows that he did not entirely hang his fiddle up when he came home. To his children “he was a most indulgent father and friend, caring little what escapades they indulged in so long as they were not afraid to tell the truth. ‘Tell truth and shame the devil’ was a quotation constantly on his lips; and he always upheld falsehood and cowardice as the two worst vices of mankind. He never permitted anything to be locked or hidden away from his children, who were allowed to indulge their appetites at their own discretion; nor were they ever banished from the apartments which he occupied. Even whilst he was writing, they would pass freely in and out of the room, putting any questions to him that occurred to them, and the worst rebuke they ever encountered was the short determined order, ‘Cease your prattle, child, and leave the room,’ an order that was immediately obeyed. For with all his indulgence of them, Captain Marryat took care to impress one fact upon his children--that his word was law.”
The children were aware that they were dealing with a parent not incapable of getting in a rage, and therefore stopped in time--which is one of the many advantages of not possessing a too equable temper. These collisions of theirs with the sovereign authority at Langham cannot, however, have been frequent, as this further quotation from Mrs. Ross Church will show: “The long-expected governess [there were great negotiations over the engagement of this official], when eventually secured and transplanted to Langham, was not received by the children, who had been accustomed to have their own way in everything, with much enthusiasm; and their father was the friend to whom they invariably appealed for protection against her authority. Captain Marryat had rather an original plan with respect to punishment and reward. He kept a quantity of small articles for presents in his secretary, and at the termination of each week the children, and governess armed with a report of their general behaviour, were ushered with much solemnity into the library to render up an account. Those who had behaved well during the preceding seven days received a prize, because they had been so good; and those who had behaved ill also received one, in hopes that they would never be naughty again. The governess was also presented with a gift, that her criticism on the justice of the transaction might be disarmed. Thus all parties left the room perfectly satisfied; an end which, Captain Marryat used to observe, it required some diplomacy to attain. The governess was in the habit of restraining the children’s thoughtlessness by imposition of fines or lessons when they tore their clothes; but, as tearing their clothes was an event of daily occurrence, the punishment became rather heavy; and one of the younger ones, having made a large rent in a new frock, ran in dismay to her father in order to consult him how best to escape the impending doom. Captain Marryat, without any regard to the future of the garment in question, took hold of the rent and tore off the whole lower part of the skirt. ‘Tell her _I_ did it,’ he said in explanation as he walked away.” This story, which had previously made its appearance in an article in the _Cornhill Magazine_, is supported there by the general assertion that whenever any of the young Marryats required punishment they were doubly petted for the rest of the day. “It seemed as if no amount of indulgence was thought too much for compensation; like the jam to take the taste of the physic out of the mouth.”