character, represented in no amiable colours, bore the name of Captain
Marryat." The truth of the story seems to be that the Captain went in
hot wrath to Bentley, and demanded an apology or a statement that the
coincidence was unintentional. Maurice replied, through his publisher,
that he had never heard of Captain Marryat. It may be questioned whether
the apology was not more galling than the original offence.

In 1834 some legal difficulties arose in connection with his father's
memory, which Marryat accepted with admirable philosophy:--

"As for the Chancellor's judgment," he told his mother, "I cannot say
that I thought anything about it, on the contrary, it appears to me
that he might have been much more severe if he had thought proper. It
is easy to impute motives, and difficult to disprove them. I thought,
considering his enmity, that he let us off cheap; as there is no
_punishing a chancellor,_ and he might say what he pleased with
impunity. I did not therefore _roar_, I only _smiled_. The effect will
be nugatory. Not one in a thousand will read it; those who do, know it
refers to a person not in this world; and of those, those who knew my
father will not believe it, those who did not will care little about
it, and forget the name in a week. Had he given the decision in our
favour, I should have been better pleased, _but it's no use crying;
what's done can't be helped."_

This letter was written from Brighton, and the following year found
Marryat on the Continent, at home in a circle of gay spirits who might
almost be called the outcasts of English society. They were
pleasure-seekers, by no means necessarily depraved but, by narrow
incomes or other causes, driven into a cheerful exile. The captain was
always ready to give and take in the matter of entertainment, and he was