Diary in America, Series One | Page 3

when at the
Tremont House in Boston, begged me particularly not to pay attention
to what they said of his state in that quarter. Both a Virginian and
Tennessean, when I was at New York did the same.
At Boston, I was drinking champaign at a supper. "Are you drinking
champaign?" said a young Bostonian. "That's New York--take claret; or,
if you will drink champaign, pour it into a green glass, and they will
think it hock; champaign is not right." How are we to distinguish
between right and wrong in this queer world? At New York, they do
drink a great deal of champaign; it is the small beer of the dinner-table.
Champaign become associated with New York, and therefore is not

right. I will do the New Yorkers the justice to say, that, as far as drinks
are concerned, they are above prejudice: all's right with them, provided
there's enough of it.
The above remarks will testify, that travellers in America have great
difficulties to contend with, and that their channels of information have
been chiefly those of the drawing-room or dinner-table. Had I worked
through the same, I should have found then very difficult of access; for
the Americans had determined that they would no longer extend their
hospitality to those who returned it with ingratitude--nor can they be
blamed. Let us reverse the case. Were not the doors of many houses in
England shut against an American author, when from his want of
knowledge of conventional usage, he published what never should have
appeared in print! And should another return to England, after his
tetchy, absurd remarks upon the English, is there much chance of his
receiving a kind welcome? Most assuredly not; both these authors will
be received with caution. The Americans, therefore, are not only not to
blame, but would prove themselves very deficient in a proper respect
for themselves, if they again admitted into their domestic circles those
who eventually requited them with abuse.
Admitting this, of course I have no feelings of ill-will toward them for
any want of hospitality toward me; on the contrary, I was pleased with
the neglect, as it left me free, and unshackled from any real or fancied
claims which the Americans might have made upon me on that score.
Indeed, I had not been three weeks in the country before I decided upon
accepting no more invitations, even charily as they were made. I found
that, although invited, my presence was a restraint upon the company;
every one appeared afraid to speak; and when anything ludicrous
occurred, the cry would be--"Oh, now. Captain Marryat, don't put that
into your book." More than once, when I happened to be in large
parties, a question such as follows would be put to me by some "free
and enlightened individual":--
"Now, Captain Marryat, I ask you before this company, and I trust you
will give me a categorical answer, Are you, or are you not about to
write a book upon this country?" I hardly need observe to the English

reader, that, under such circumstances, the restraint, became mutual; I
declined all farther invitations, and adhered to this determination as far
as I could without cause of offence, during my whole tour through the
United States.
But if I admit, that after the usage which they had received, the
Americans are justified in not again tendering their hospitably to the
English, I cannot, at the same time, but express my opinion as to their
conduct toward me personally. They had no right to insult and annoy
me in the manner they did, from nearly one end of the Union to the
other, either because my predecessors had expressed an unfavourable
opinion of them before my arrival, or because they expected that I
would do the same upon my return to my own country, I remark upon
this conduct, not from any feeling of ill-will or desire of retaliation, but
to compel the Americans to admit that I am under no obligations to
them: that I received from them much more of insult and outrage than
of kindness; and, consequently, that the charge of ingratitude cannot be
laid to my door, however offensive to them some of the remarks in this
work may happen to be.
And here I must observe, that the Americans can no longer anticipate
lenity from the English traveller, as latterly they have so deeply
committed themselves. Once, indeed, they could say, "We admit and
are hospitable to the English, who, as soon as they leave our country,
turn round and abuse and revile us. We have our faults, it is true: but
such conduct on their part is not kind or generous." But they can say
this no longer; they have retaliated, and in their attacks they