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

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. That which was venial in a miserable starveling of Grub Street is perfectly disgusting in the extravagantly paid novelists of these days--the caressed, of generous booksellers. Mr Ainsworth and Captain Marryat ought to disdain such pitiful peddling. Let them eschew it without delay."
Marryat's reply was, spirited and manly. After ridiculing Fraser's attempt "to set up a standard of precedency and rank in literature," and humorously proving that an author's works were not to be esteemed in proportion to the length of time elapsing between their production, he turned to the more serious and entirely honest defence that, like Dickens, he was supplying the lower classes with wholesome recreation:--
"I would rather write for the instruction, or even the amusement of the poor than for the amusement of the rich; and I would sooner raise a smile or create an interest in the honest mechanic or agricultural labourer