was
definitely intended to bear fruit. Before starting he made a bargain
with his publishers to produce a book on his return. The _American
Notes_ thus published, dealing largely with institutions and with the
notable 'sights' of the country, have not retained a prominent place
among his works; with _Martin Chuzzlewit_ and its picture of American
manners it is different. This stands alone among his writings in having
left a permanent heritage of ill-will. Reasons in abundance can be found
for the bitterness caused. He portrayed the conceit, the self-interest,
the disregard for the feelings of others which the less-educated
American showed to foreigners in a visible and often offensive guise;
and the portraits were so life-like that no arrow fails to hit the mark.
The American people were young; they had made great strides in material
prosperity, they had not been taught to submit to the lash by satirists
like Swift or more kindly mentors like Addison. Their own Oliver Wendell
Holmes had not yet begun to chastise them with gentle irony. So they
were aghast at Dickens's audacity, and indignant at what seemed an
outrage on their hospitality, and few stopped to ask what elements of
truth were to be found in the offending book. No doubt it was one-sided
and unfair; Dickens, like most tourists, had been confronted by the
louder and more aggressive members of the community and had not time to
judge the whole. In large measure he recanted in subsequent writings;
and on his second visit the more generous Americans showed how little
rancour they bore. But the portraits of Jefferson Brick and Elijah
Pogram will live; with Pecksniff, 'Sairey' Gamp, and other immortals
they bear the hall-mark of Dickens's creative genius.

To America he did not go again for twenty-five years; but, as he grew
older, he seemed to feel increasing need for change and variety in his
mode of life. In 1844 he went for nearly twelve months to Italy, making
his head-quarters at Genoa; and in 1846 he repeated the experiment at
Lausanne on the lake of Geneva. Later, between 1853 and 1856, he spent a
large part of three summers in a villa near Boulogne. Though he desired
the change for reasons connected with his work, and though in each case
he formed friendly connexions with his neighbours, it cannot be said
that his books show the influence of either country. His genius was
British to the core and he remained an Englishman wherever he went. He
complained when