The first edition of this book is dated 1834. The edition used is dated 1895. The publisher was Richard Edward King, 88 Curtain Road, London E.C. The number of pages is 333.

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General information

Captain Frederick Marryat was born July 10 1792, and died August 8 1848. He retired from the British navy in 1828 in order to devote himself to writing. In the following 20 years he wrote 26 books, many of which are among the very best of English literature, and some of which are still in print.

Marryat had an extraordinary gift for the invention of episodes in his stories. He says somewhere that when he sat down for the day’s work, he never knew what he was going to write. He certainly was a literary genius.

“Japhet in Search of a Father” was published in 1836, the seventh book to flow from Marryat’s pen. It was the first of Marryat’s books not to have a nautical setting. It is a brilliantly written book, giving us insights into aspects of nineteenth century life that we cannot easily get elsewhere.

This e-text was transcribed in 1998 by Nick Hodson, and was re- formatted in 2003, and again in 2005.

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Contents

Chapter I.
Like most other children, who should be my godfather is decided by mammon—So precocious as to make some noise in the world, and be hung a few days after I was born—Cut down in time, and produce a scene of bloodshed—My early propensities fully developed by the choice of my profession.

Chapter II.
Like all tyros, I find the rudiments of learning extremely difficult and laborious, but advance so rapidly that I can do without my master.

Chapter III.
I perform a wonderful cure upon Saint John Long’s principle, having little or no principle of my own—I begin to puzzle my head with a problem, of all others most difficult to solve.

Chapter IV.
Very much puzzled with a new patient, nevertheless take my degree at fifteen as an MD and what is still more acceptable, I pocket the fees.

Chapter V.
My vanity receives a desperate wound, but my heart remains unscathed—An anomaly in woman, one who despises beauty.

Chapter VI.
My prescriptions very effective and palatable, but I lose my patient—The feud equal to that of the Montagues and the Capulets—Results different—Mercutio comes off unhurt.

Chapter VII.
Looking out for business not exactly minding your own business—The loss of the scales occasions the loss of place to Timothy and me, who when weighed in other scales were found wanting—We bundle off with our bundles on.

Chapter VIII.
We take a coach, but the driver does not like his fare and hits us foul—We change our mode of travelling, upon the principle of slow and sure, and fall in with a very learned man.

Chapter IX.
In which the adventures in the waggon are continued, and we become more puzzled with our new companions—We leave off talking Latin, and enter into an engagement.

Chapter X.
In which the reader is introduced to several new acquaintances, and all connected with them, except birth and parentage, which appears to be the one thing wanting throughout the whole of this work.

Chapter XI.
Whatever may be the opinion of the reader, he cannot assert that we are no conjurers—We suit our wares to our customers, and our profits are considerable.

Chapter XII.
It is very easy to humbug those who are so eager to be humbugged as people are in this world of humbug—We show ourselves excessively disinterested, which astonishes everybody.

Chapter XIII.
The seed having been carefully sown, we now reap a golden harvest—We tell everybody what they knew before, and we are looked upon as most marvellous by most marvellous fools.

Chapter XIV.
In which Melchior talks very much like an astrologer, and Tim and I return to our old trade of making up innocent prescriptions.

Chapter XV.
In which Timothy makes a grand speech, quite as true as those delivered from the hustings—Melchior, like the candidate, states his pretensions for public favour, and the public, as usual, swallow the bait.

Chapter XVI.
Important news, but not communicated—A dissolution of partnership takes place.

Chapter XVII.
A cabinet council—I resolve to set up as a gentleman, having as legitimate pretensions to the rank of one as many others.

Chapter XVIII.
I receive a letter from my uncle, by which I naturally expect to find out who is my father—Like other outcasts I am warned by a dream.

Chapter XIX.
An important chapter—I make some important acquaintances, obtain some important papers, which I am importunate to read through.

Chapter XX.
I open an account with my bankers, draw largely upon credulity, and am prosperous without a check.

Chapter XXI.
I come out under a first-rate chaperon, and at once am established into the regions of fashion—Prove that I am deserving of my promotion.

Chapter XXII.
The real Simon Pure proves the worse of the two—I am found guilty, but not condemned; convicted, yet convince; and after having behaved the very contrary to, prove that I am, a gentleman.

Chapter XXIII.
The major prevents the landlord from imposing on me, hot I gain nothing by his interference—For economical reasons I agree to live with him that he may live on me.

Chapter XXIV.
The major teaches me how to play whist so as never to lose, which is by playing against each other, and into each other’s hands.

Chapter XXV.
We fund our winnings, and consider to refund, a work of supererogation—In looking after my father, I obey the old adage, “Follow your nose.

Chapter XXVI.
In following my nose, I narrowly escaped being nosed by a beak.

Chapter XXVII.
A chapter of mistakes—No benefit of clergy—I attack a bishop, and am beaten off—The major hedges upon the filly stakes.

Chapter XXVIII.
I am over head and ears in trouble about a lady’s earrings; commit myself sadly, and am very nearly committed.

Chapter XXIX.
I borrow money upon my estate, and upon very favourable terms.

Chapter XXX.
The major is very fortunate and very unfortunate—He receives a large sum in gold and one ounce of lead.

Chapter XXXI.
The major pays the only debt of consequence he ever did pay, and I find myself a man of property.

Chapter XXXII.
A chapter full of morality, which ends in a Jew refusing upwards of £1000, proving the millennium to be nearly at hand.

Chapter XXXIII.
I decide upon honesty as the best policy, and what is more strange, receive legal advice upon this important point.

Chapter XXXIV.
I attempt to profit by intelligence I receive and throw a lady into hysterics.

Chapter XXXV.
I repair the damage, and make things worse—Plot and counterplot—Tim gains a watch by setting watch upon his tongue.

Chapter XXXVI.
I fall very much in love with honesty, because I find that it is well received in the world—and to prove my honesty, inform the whole world that honest I have never been.

Chapter XXXVII.
I try back to recover the lost scent, and discover to my astonishment, that I have been transported for forgery.

Chapter XXXVIII.
Mischief brewing—Timothy and I set our wits to work, and he resumes his old profession of a gipsy.

Chapter XXXIX.
I set off on a wild-goose chase—And fall in with an old friend.

Chapter XL.
I deny my master.

Chapter XLI.
I turn lawyer.

Chapter XLII.
I affront an Irish gentleman and make a handsome apology, which is accepted.

Chapter XLIII.
I am not content with minding my own business, but must have a hand in that of others, by which means I put my foot in it.

Chapter XLIV.
No hopes of rising next morning alive—As a last chance, I get into bed.

Chapter XLV.
Petticoat interest prevails, and I escape; but I put my head into the lion’s den.

Chapter XLVI.
Under ground, but not yet dead and buried—The prospect anything but pleasant.

Chapter XLVII.
A friend in need is a friend indeed—The tables are turned, and so is the key—The issue is deep tragedy.

Chapter XLVIII.
Is full of perilous adventures, and in which, the reader may be assured, there is much more than meets the eye.

Chapter XLIX.
Another investigation relative to a child, which, in the same way as the former one, ends by the lady going off in a fit.

Chapter L.
In which, if the reader does not sympathise with the parties, he had better shut the book.

Chapter LI.
I return to the gay world, but am not well received; I am quite disgusted with it and honesty, and everything else.

Chapter LII.
A new character appears, but not a very amiable one; but I attach myself to him, as drowning men catch at straws.

Chapter LIII.
Become principal instead of second in a duel, and risk my own and another’s life, my own and others’ happiness and peace of mind, because I have been punished as I deserved.

Chapter LIV.
This is a strange world; I am cut by a man of no character, because he is fearful that I should injure his character.

Chapter LV.
I cut my new acquaintance, but his company, even in so short a time, proves my ruin—Notwithstanding I part with all my property, I retain my honesty.

Chapter LVI.
I resolve to begin the world again, and to seek my fortune in the next path—I take leave of all my old friends.

Chapter LVII.
My new career is not very prosperous at its commencement—I am robbed, and accused of being a robber—I bind up wounds, and am accused of having inflicted them—I get into a horse-pond, and out of it into gaol.

Chapter LVIII.
Worse and worse—If out of gaol, it will be to go out of the world—I am resolved to take my secret with me.

Chapter LIX.
By the committing of magisterial mistakes I am personally and penally committed—I prepare for my trial by calling in the assistance of the tailor and the perfumer—I am resolved to die like a gentleman.

Chapter LX.
I am condemned to be hung by the neck until I am dead, and to go out of the world without finding out who is my father—Afterwards my innocence is made manifest, and I am turned adrift a maniac in the high road.

Chapter LXI
When at the lowest spoke of fortune’s wheel, one is sure to rise as it turns round—I recover my senses, and find myself amongst friends.

Chapter LXII.
I fall in love with religion when preached by one who has the form of an angel.

Chapter LXIII.
Pride and love at issue—The latter is victorious—I turn Quaker, and recommence my old profession.

Chapter LXIV.
I prosper in every way, and become reconciled to my situation.

Chapter LXV.
A variety of the Quaker tribe—Who had a curious disintegration of mind and body.

Chapter LXVI.
I fall in with Timothy.

Chapter LXVII.
Timothy commences his narrative of his search after Japhet.

Chapter LXVIII.
Timothy finishes his narrative.

Chapter LXIX.
I am unsettled by unexpected intelligence, and again yearn after the world of fashion.

Chapter LXX.
I return to London, and meet with Mr. Masterton.

Chapter LXXI.
In which I am let into more particulars relative to my father’s history.

Chapter LXXII.
I am a little jealous, and, like the immortal William Bottom, inclined to enact more parts than one—With a big effort my hankering after bigamy is mastered by Mr. Masterton—and by my own good sense.

Chapter LXXIII.
Contains much learned argument upon broad-brims and garments of grey—I get the best of it—The one great wish of my life is granted—I meet my father, and a cold reception, very indicative of much after-heat.

Chapter LXXIV.
Father and I grow warm in our argument—Obliged to give him a little schooling to show my affection—Takes it at last very kindly, and very dutifully owns himself a fool.

Chapter LXXV.
Father still dutifully submissive at home—Abroad, I am splitting a straw in arguments with Susannah about straw bonnets—The rest of the chapter contains coquetry, courting, and costumes.

Chapter LXXVI.
I renew old ties of friendship, and seek new ones of love—Obliged to take my father to task once more—He receives his lesson with proper obedience.

Chapter LXXVII.
Treats of apologies, and love coming from church—We finesse with the nabob to win me a wife—I am successful in my suit, yet the lawyer is still to play the cards to enable me to win the game.

Chapter LXXVIII.
The Bengal tiger taken in the toils, which promises a speedy end to mine—I kindly permit my father to insist upon the marriage that I have set my heart upon.

Chapter LXXIX.
Poor Cophagus finds an end to his adventures by the means of a mad bull; I, of mine, by matrimony—Father is prettily behaved, and my Quaker wife the most fashionably dressed lady in town—Verily! hum!

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