Peter Simple and The Three Cutters, Vol. 1 | Page 7

pleasurable
portion of anticipated bliss is that there will be no publishers there.
That idea often supports me after an interview with one of your
fraternity."
Marryat only returned to England a few months before hurrying off to
America in April 1837. The reasons for this move it is impossible to
conjecture, as we can scarcely accept the apparent significance of his
comments on Switzerland in the Diary on the Continent:--
"Do the faults of these people arise from the peculiarity of their
constitutions, or from the nature of their government? To ascertain this,
one must compare them with those who live under similar institutions. I
must go to America--that is decided."
He was received by the Americans with a curious mixture of suspicion
and enthusiasm. English men and women of letters in late years had
been visiting the Republic and criticising its institutions to the mother
country--with a certain forgetfulness of hospitalities received that was
not, to say the least of it, in good taste. Marryat was also an author, and
it seemed only too probable that he had come to spy out the land. On
the other hand, his books were immensely popular over the water and,
but for dread of possible consequences, Jonathan was delighted to see
him. His arrival at Saratoga Springs produced an outburst in the local
papers of the most pronounced journalese:--
"This distinguished writer is at present a sojourner in our city. Before
we knew the gallant Captain was respiring our balmy air, we really did
wonder what laughing gas had imbued our atmosphere--every one we

met in the streets appeared to be in such a state of jollification; but
when we heard that the author of Peter Simple was actually puffing a
cigar amongst us we no longer marvelled at the pleasant countenances
of our citizens. He has often made them laugh when he was thousands
of miles away. Surely now it is but natural that they ought to be tickled
to death at the idea of having him present."
The Bostonians were proud to claim him as a compatriot through his
mother, and a nautical drama from his pen--The Ocean Wolf, or the
Channel Outlaw--was performed at New York with acclamation. He
had some squabbles with American publishers concerning copyright,
and was clever enough to secure two thousand two hundred and fifty
dollars from Messrs Carey & Hart for his forthcoming Diary in
America and The Phantom Ship, which latter first appeared in the New
Monthly, 1837 and 1838. He evidently pleased the Americans on the
whole, and was not unfavourably impressed by what he saw, but the six
volumes which he produced on his return are only respectable
specimens of bookmaking, and do not repay perusal. It was, indeed, his
own opinion that he had already written enough. "If I were not rather in
want of money," he says in a letter to his mother, "I certainly would not
write any more, for I am rather tired of it. I should like to disengage
myself from the fraternity of authors, and be known in future only in
my profession as a good officer and seaman." He had hoped to see
some service in Canada, but the opportunity never came.
In England, to which he returned in 1839, the want of money soon
came to be felt more seriously. His father's fortune had been invested in
the West Indies, and began to show diminishing returns. For this and
other reasons he led a very wandering existence, for another four or
five years, until 1843. A year at 8 Duke Street, St James, was followed
by a short stay with his mother at Wimbledon House, from which he
took chambers at 120 Piccadilly, and then again moved to Spanish
Place, Manchester Square. Apparently at this time he made an
unsuccessful attempt to return to active service. He was meanwhile
working hard at Poor Jack, Masterman Ready, The Poacher, Percival
Keene, etc., and living hard in the merry circle of a literary Bohemia,
with Clarkson Stanfield, Rogers, Dickens, and Forster; to whom were

sometimes added Lady Blessington, Ainsworth, Cruickshank, and
Lytton. The rival interests served to sour his spirits and weaken his
constitution.
The publication of The Poacher in the Era newspaper involved its
author in a very pretty controversy. A foolish contributor to Fraser's
Magazine got into a rage with Harrison Ainsworth for condescending
to write in the weekly papers, and expressed himself as follows:--
"If writing monthly fragments threatened to deteriorate Mr Ainsworth's
productions, what must be the result of this hebdomadal habit? Captain
Marryat, we are sorry to say, has taken to the same line. Both these
popular authors may rely upon our warning, that they will live to see
their laurels fade unless they more carefully cultivate a spirit of
self-respect.