Diary in America, Series Two

In Short

Diary in America, Series Two serves as a sharp-tongued, unapologetic travelogue and political commentary written by a celebrated British novelist during the late 1830s. Spanning a tumultuous period for North America, the text shifts between harrowing firsthand accounts of industrial catastrophes—such as steamship explosions—and polemical essays regarding the "tyranny of the majority" in American democracy. Marryat is an observer who prioritizes his own firm, often reactionary, opinions over diplomatic neutrality. Because he focuses on the friction between British traditions and the raw, experimental nature of American life, his work remains a vital artifact for understanding the mutual misunderstandings that defined the nineteenth-century Atlantic world. It is a dense, provocative, and deeply personal record of an era in flux.

The Story

The narrative arc of the Diary is less a journey through landscapes and more a descent into the author’s evolving confrontation with democratic ideology. It begins with the premise that a foreigner sees a country more clearly than its own citizens, whose familiarity breeds a dangerous blindness. Marryat arrives in North America determined to look past the surface of its burgeoning prosperity. He moves quickly from general observations of travel to specific, chilling accounts of "great casualties." By detailing the horrific explosions and fires of American steamships like the Ben Sherrod, he establishes a motif of reckless expansionism, suggesting that the drive for profit in America often comes at the direct cost of human life.

From these tragedies, the focus moves to the moral and social fabric of the American public. Marryat is famously critical of the "hotel culture," where he perceives a lack of privacy leading to a decline in female virtue and a rise in vacuous scandal. His interactions with Americans are often adversarial; he records dialogue where he parries with locals who challenge his view on the relative morality of the two nations. This leads to a wider analysis of the American character, which he deems "matter-of-fact" and utilitarian, lacking in poetic imagination yet possessed of an aggressive, egotistical nationalism.

As the text progresses, the scope widens from personal anecdotes to geopolitical warnings. Marryat analyzes the "robbery of Texas," interpreting the expansionist policies of the United States as a threat to the global order. He views the American annexation of territory not as a natural evolution, but as a moral failure enabled by a government that ignores international law. This leads him to the Canadian frontier, where he examines the friction between French and English settlers. Here, he acts as an armchair strategist, critiquing the British administration for its perceived weakness in dealing with French-Canadian resistance and the "Yankee pirates" threatening the border.

The diary concludes by circling back to the author’s primary intellectual obsession: the inevitable, violent fracture of the American Union. He posits that the very speed of American progress ensures its future collapse into fragmented, warring states. In a final, striking pivot, he addresses the "missing tribes" of the Jewish people, attempting to draw parallels between their history and the Indigenous populations of North America, before launching into a grand, prophetic vision for the return of the Jewish people to Jerusalem. The ending is essentially a call for the preservation of imperial order against the chaos he believes democracy inevitably invites.

How It Unfolds

The traveller’s lens The author asserts that citizens are blinded by habit, making the visiting foreigner the only objective observer of a nation's true character. He sets a tone of superiority, preparing the reader for a critique that will favor British stability over American innovation.

The toll of progress The narrative shifts to the physical dangers of the American interior, specifically the recurring disasters on steamships. Detailed reports of boilers exploding and ships catching fire serve as his primary evidence for the reckless, profit-driven nature of the American spirit.

The culture of the hotel Marryat turns his attention to American social life, which he finds shallow and lacking in moral refinement. He describes a society of public exhibitionists, particularly within the transitory environments of hotels and boarding houses, where he finds the lack of privacy leads to a loss of delicacy.

Political and moral decay The author targets American institutions, including the press and the government's approach to territorial expansion. He portrays newspapers as conduits for corruption and the annexation of Texas as a "high-handed theft" that highlights a lack of national integrity.

The Canadian frontier The focus shifts to the struggle for stability in the Canadian provinces under British rule. He documents the linguistic and cultural conflicts between English and French settlers, lamenting the administrative concessions he believes have weakened the Crown’s authority.

The inevitable collapse In the final chapters, the author offers his definitive prognosis for the United States. He predicts a future of inevitable civil strife and fragmentation, viewing the country's rapid growth not as a success, but as the engine of its own destruction.

The People

The figures in this diary are often archetypes used to illustrate the clash of cultures. Captain Marryat himself is the central, pervasive presence; he is an aristocratic, somewhat cynical officer who prides himself on his directness. He wants to expose the "real" America behind the facade of republican optimism, and he is constantly frustrated by the Americans' inability to admit their own faults. His primary antagonist is not a single person, but the "American Majority," a faceless, monolithic force that he believes dictates public opinion, stifles free speech, and drives the nation toward radicalism.

Within his specific accounts, he portrays the American steamship Captain Castleman as a symptom of a system that prioritizes speed over safety, leading to the tragedy of the Ben Sherrod. He also features the "Southern Gentleman," a figure whom he views with a mix of fascination and disdain. These men are characterized by their obsession with the "Bowie-knife" and a misplaced sense of honor that leads to frequent, senseless violence. Finally, he encounters the American press agent, Mr. Bennett, whom he describes as a "species of philosopher" who monetizes slander and moral decay. These figures are framed as evidence of a society where financial gain and the approval of the masses have replaced traditional virtues.

In Its Own Voice

"I believe that the remarks of a traveller in any country not his own, let his work be ever so trifling or badly written, will point out some peculiarity which will have escaped the notice of those who were born and reside in that country."

The author justifies his role as a foreign observer, arguing that his detachment allows him to see truths that natives are too close to perceive.

"The boat was one hundred and sixteen feet from the water's edge, one hundred and ninety-two from the top of the bank, which was forty-three feet in perpendicular height above the water."

In documenting the steamship catastrophe, he uses precise, clinical measurements to emphasize the sheer, industrial violence of the explosion.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is a reactionary critique of the American experiment as it stood in the 1830s. Marryat is preoccupied with the tension between individual liberty and the "despotism of the majority," a concept he believes makes true freedom impossible in a republic. He argues that American utilitarianism—the obsession with money, speed, and expansion—has stripped the culture of its moral and poetic depth. The book is an attempt to define the limits of democracy, suggesting that without the stabilizing forces of a monarchy, an established church, and an hereditary nobility, a nation will inevitably descend into lawlessness and mob rule. Beneath his travel observations lies a deep, existential anxiety regarding the decline of British imperial influence and the rise of a new, hostile power. He uses the American example as a cautionary tale for the Old World, questioning whether a society can truly thrive when it sacrifices its historical roots for the sake of rapid, unchecked development.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the sharp, opinionated prose of nineteenth-century travel writers will find much to engage with here. It is a rewarding read for anyone interested in the perspective of a contemporary critic who witnessed the United States during its most formative and volatile expansionist years. The writing is precise, often acerbic, and consistently provocative; the author refuses to hedge his bets, which gives the text a startling, unvarnished quality that is rare in more polite travel memoirs.

However, modern readers should approach the book with an awareness of its significant limitations. Marryat is a product of his time, and his work is saturated with the colonial attitudes and cultural biases typical of a British naval officer of the early Victorian era. His disdain for American customs can feel repetitive, and his analysis of Canadian politics is heavily colored by his loyalty to the Crown. The text also requires patience; it frequently shifts from travel narrative to dense, dry discussions of legislative reports, parliamentary testimonies, and speculative theology regarding the "missing tribes." It is not a smooth, linear story but a collection of observations and arguments that reflect the author's changing moods and interests. If you seek a balanced, objective account of American history, this is not it. But if you want to understand the visceral, often hostile, and deeply skeptical way that the British establishment viewed the "American experiment," this diary remains an essential, if abrasive, primary source. It stays with you because it captures the specific friction of an era where two worldviews—the old imperial tradition and the new republican fervor—were colliding with irreversible force.