American Notes and Pictures from Italy

by Charles Dickens

Dickens went to America in 1842 expecting to find a brave new world whose institutions embodied his own political views. The Americans expected him to extol their new nation. Dickens, however, became deeply disturbed by American culture. American Notes attempts to portray fairly the young Republic's new cities, strange landscapes and bustling people, but is coloured by Dicken's doubts about the failings of democratic politics in an egalitarian society.

Genres: Travel, Classics, 19th Century, Fiction, Literature, Collections, British Literature

80 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1846

About the author

Charles John Huffam Dickens (1812-1870) was a writer and social critic who created some of the world's best-known fictional characters and is regarded as the greatest novelist of the Victorian era. His works enjoyed unprecedented popularity during his lifetime, and by the twentieth century critics and scholars had recognised him as a literary genius. His novels and short stories enjoy lasting popularity.

Dickens left school to work in a factory when his father was incarcerated in a debtors' prison. Despite his lack of formal education, he edited a weekly journal for 20 years, wrote 15 novels, five novellas, hundreds of short stories and non-fiction articles, lectured and performed extensively, was an indefatigable letter writer, and campaigned vigorously for children's rights, education, and other social reforms.

Dickens was regarded as the literary colossus of his age. His 1843 novella, A Christmas Carol, remains popular and continues to inspire adaptations in every artistic genre. Oliver Twist and Great Expectations are also frequently adapted, and, like many of his novels, evoke images of early Victorian London. His 1859 novel, A Tale of Two Cities, set in London and Paris, is his best-known work of historical fiction. Dickens's creative genius has been praised by fellow writers—from Leo Tolstoy to George Orwell and G. K. Chesterton—for its realism, comedy, prose style, unique characterisations, and social criticism. On the other hand, Oscar Wilde, Henry James, and Virginia Woolf complained of a lack of psychological depth, loose writing, and a vein of saccharine sentimentalism. The term Dickensian is used to describe something that is reminiscent of Dickens and his writings, such as poor social conditions or comically repulsive characters.

On 8 June 1870, Dickens suffered another stroke at his home after a full day's work on Edwin Drood. He never regained consciousness, and the next day he died at Gad's Hill Place. Contrary to his wish to be buried at Rochester Cathedral "in an inexpensive, unostentatious, and strictly private manner," he was laid to rest in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey. A printed epitaph circulated at the time of the funeral reads: "To the Memory of Charles Dickens (England's most popular author) who died at his residence, Higham, near Rochester, Kent, 9 June 1870, aged 58 years. He was a sympathiser with the poor, the suffering, and the oppressed; and by his death, one of England's greatest writers is lost to the world." His last words were: "On the ground", in response to his sister-in-law Georgina's request that he lie down.

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[GoldGato · Rating 4 out of 5]

Combining the trips Dickens took to Italy in 1844 and to the States/Canada in 1842 and 1868, this book brings a delightful look via the usual Dickens wit at travel in the 19th century. The view of America at that time is still one of innocence, with railways not as mainstream as England and travel still rather arduous via steamboats, barges, and stagecoach.

His sojourn to Italy can be both hilarious and morose, as it's obvious he despises the poverty he sees in some towns and the papal obsession of the natives. But he lightens up in the American section, and some of his comments are still dead-on in today's time ("it would be impossible to get on anywhere, in America, without a rocking-chair").

He assigns politics to the animals he sees on the street ("he is in every respect a republican pig...mingling with the best society"), and labels Philadelphia as it truly is ("distractingly regular").

With a sharp eye, he notes the immediate difference between his ancient English and the brash Americans, by noting that when an Englishman cries, "All right", an American will say, "Go ahead". Thus, one saying explains the national character of each land.

Of course, the joy of Dickens is his passion for learning more and then translating the mundane into words that never fail to hit their mark (describing a rather tall gentleman as a "lighthouse walking among lamp-posts"). His Canada is still our Canada...steady and "advancing quietly". Love it, love Dickens.

I can think of few things better than idling away on an Amtrak ride while reading this book. I even loved Dickens' moniker he assigned to those inquisitive travellers who are always bothering others and forever asking for personal information. "He was an embodied enquiry". Times haven't changed that much after all.

Book Season = Year Round

[SoulSurvivor · Rating 2 out of 5]

Many of Dickens' books have stood the test of time and become classics; this one did not, and has not.

[P.J. MacNamara · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dickens' travel books are less well known than his fiction, as is evidenced by the small number of ratings and reviews this volume has gathered. They are however well worth your time.

Even with his lesser works Dickens manages to make most other writers look like buffoons.

[Alan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Despite some questions on America, Dickens admires Boston institutions, like the Perkins Institute for the Blind, and the Asylum for the Insane, and the Juvenile Jail. He devoted many pages to specific children at Perkins, especially one who is deaf, blind and mute, from scarlet fever. This girl learned shapes of letters, forming with her finger, eventually very quickly (before Braille). He observes that in provincial life like Boston, the "Pulpit has great influnece"-- the Puritans discouraging amusements like theatres, which hence are attended by few, mostly women. He met Channing the Unitarian (the one church that supported amusements) and admires Unitarian "disgust of Cant" and Carlyle's"follower" Emerson: "If I were a Bostonian, I think I would be a Transcendentalist"(57). Emerson was minister at my New Bedford UU church for six months before he gave up being clergy, objecting to communion, which he may have learned from Mary rotch who walked out every communion. (Fine bust of him in the church, as there's also a huge Tiffany mosaic behind the pulpit.)

Attending one small church on the harbor, he admires the former seaman preacher, "a weather-beaten, hard-featured man of six o eight and fifty, with deep lines graven into his face, and a stern, keen eye. Yet his general character was pleasant and agreeable." "The little choir in the gallery opposite the pulpit featured a violincello, and a violin." This church too small, too poor for an organ, had arguably better music.
He tours Lowell's mills, finds the mill "girls" housing includes a piano some can play, and books fom circulating libraies, as well as bank accounts. They publish a paper, the Lowell Offering, and they often come from farms, work a few mill years and return home. He refrains from comparing English mills, where a lifetime, and "great haunts of desperate misery."
He admires Worcester, takes train to my hometown Springfield; then , a small water craft down the Connecticut river, with a rocking chair in the cabin. A lady on the boat is the most beautiful he's met.
When he gets to D.C. he notes that the House of representatives is too big, "beautiful to look at, but singulalay bad for purposes of hearing" (118) while the Senate room, smaller, "well adapted." While in the waiting room to meet the US President Tyler (CD, "not vey popular") he sees a man from Kentucky who is 6'6", leaning against the wall with his hat on; another does nothing but whistle; another, nothing but spit--from chewing tobacco-- ignoring the spittoons. Our editor Sitwell cuts a great passage editor M. Slater includes: "The rest balanced themselves, now on one leg, now on another, and chewed mighty quids of tobacco. They all constantly squirted forth upon the carpet, a yellow saliva which quite altered its pattern." President Tyler had a smaller room, and desk covered with papers. "He looked somewhat worn and tired as well he might, being at war with everybody, but his demeanour mild and manner unaffected. He became his station singularly well."

Next, in his Pictures from Italy, Dickens' first sight of rome, coming from Siena, looks like London-- large domes in each city. (He wonders if he should say this.) He's there for Holy Week, 1842. Critiques the ceremonies as entertainment: the candles being lighted from a tall step-ladder, "only" 112 candles one night. Both Keats and Shelley are buried in the same small cemetery. Sistine Chapel, so crowded when a Lady faints, brought out, 100 people think they can enter to her place. The Pope's feet-washing of 13 (12 apostles +) a high point, the 13 on raised seats so feet high enough to see. Evidently angels not musicians, but shown playing fiddles in St Peter's. After washing feet, the Pope, in scarlet robes, serves a meal-- fish and veggies-- and wine, white and red. Judas looks depressed, while St Peter eats everything. Someone asks if there's a mustard-pot; one saw oil in cruets (402).

Leaving the city, they see carts full of wine heading back, a shaggy peasant directing each. They head to Napoli, where I spent a month one year--researching Giordano Bruno, who was born nearby in Nola--, followed by a week the next. See my two books, the Worlds of Giordano Bruno, and his play, Candelaio. Spoke on 'em at Harvard Astrophysics, Oct 1 2013: google "Giordano Bruno Harvard Video." Bruno studied at San Domenico Maggiore 11 years. A painting in that church spoke to St Thomas Aquinas.

CD, "Everything is done in pantomime in Naples. All over Italy, a peculiar shake of the right hand from the wrist, the foefinger stretched out. expresses a negative--the only negative beggars understand. But in Naples, those five fingers are a copious language." Two people in carriages meeting, "one touches his lips, twice or thrice, holding up the five fingers of his right hand, and gives a horizontal cut in the air with the palm. The other nods briskly, and goes his way. He has been invited to dinner at half-past five o'clock, and will surely come."

This "most beautiful and lovely spot on earth"(413). I left feeling the most beautiful city was San Francisco, or Napoli. CD, "Whether we turn towards the Miseno shor of the splendid watery amphitheatre, or take the other way, towards Vesuvius and Sorrento, it is one succession of delights" (414). From Sorrento, where the poet Tasso drew inspiration, the clusters of white houses in Naples "dwindle down to dice."

[Simon Mcleish · Rating 3 out of 5]

Neither of these travelogues are among Dickens' great works, but are worth reading if you like Dickens. American Notes, the longer, has more interest. It includes some funny passages (the scathing depiction of Washington political life, the hogs in New York streets), and shows what now seems a bizarre fascination with visiting prisons and asylums. The book concludes with one of Dickens' most heartfelt and fierce pieces of writing, a condemnation of the institution of slavery. Bolstered by a large number of extracts from actual documents he collected on his trip, he passionately attacks the the inhumanity of the treatment of slaves. This was quite a controversial thing to do - he notes that pro-slavery lobbying was strong enough that those opposed to it were drowned out in Washington if they dared raise the topic, and he adds a statement regretting that by attacking slavery he may lose friends made on the trip. Pictures From Italy is shorter and less interesting, but includes one of my favourite brief descriptions in Dickens' writing: a man carrying a large amount of firewood is like "Birnham Wood going for a winter walk".

[Kristian · Rating 3 out of 5]

The amusing notes and subsequent literary renditions of Dickens from his travels to the States and to Italy around the middle of the 19th century. He is (obviously) an excellent writer with a sense of humor and a vision, and the books read well. I also kinda like this oldish English with its weird and unnecessarily complex, long sentences... which is funny, because precisely for the same reason I often loathe to read the kind of academic text where you can see that the writer has almost deliberately made it more complex than it needs to be. But with old English (and with many other languages too) the time gap rather makes it amusing and entertaining than frustrating... well, depending on what you're reading of course.

[Spiros · Rating 4 out of 5]

Two of The Inimitable's travelogues for the price of one: his 1842 sojourn in the United States, with his long-suffering wife, and a collection of impressions from a year spent (mostly) in Italy, with most of his family. The American trip was the more purposeful of the two: he was there to investigate the culture, but also to crusade for copywrite laws. His was a peculiar sort of tourism; the most vivid accounts are of visits to prisons, schools for the blind, and poor-houses. He curtailed a projected trip to the Carolinas, because the spectacle of slavery so disgusted him, but he did manage to make it as far south and west as St. Louis, where he even ventured across the Mississippi to spend an afternoon on the prairie. Dickens found much that was positive in his experiences: he reported a population that was predominantly earnest (if a little too much so), polite, and hospitable. Our institutions were more of a mixed bag: some run on enlightened principles, some on more medieval models. Three things distressed him, almost in equal measure: the universal habit of spitting copious streams of tobacco juice in, or more often in the general vicinity of, spittoons; an ethos of "Universal Distrust", which caused Americans to undermine much that was worthwhile in society; and the unfortunate tendency we displayed to spend much of our time shooting one another. This violence he imputed to the baleful influence of slavery (he devotes a whole chapter toward the end of the book passionately denouncing the Peculiar Institution), without pausing to consider whether the prevalent gunplay and the existence of slavery might not be symptoms of a deeper, underlying cause. But then, Dickens was never a systematic thinker. He was a brilliant writer, and all of this book reflects that brilliance.

His visit to Italy was a much more sedentary affair. His entourage set up house in Genoa, and made various trips south and east. Dickens found much to inspire and much to vex him in Italy. He loved the warmth and good nature of the people, and hated the way they were treated by the Church and the squalor in which they lived. His art criticism is a somewhat suspect; he didn't have much use for "Michael Angelo". He is at his glorious best in his descriptions a dreamy sojourn in Venice, of Carneval in Rome, and of a harebrained moonlight ascent of Vesuvius, during which he climbed to the rim of the caldera.

On his trip from Rome to Naples, Dickens describes my grandfather's home town of Fondi:
"The Neapolitan frontier crossed, after two hours' traveling; and the hungriest soldiers and custom-house officers appeased; we enter, by a gateless portal, into the first Neapolitan town - Fondi. Take note of Fondi, in the name of all that is wretched and beggarly.
A filthy channel of mud and refuse meanders down the centre of the miserable streets, fed by obscene rivulets that trickle from abject houses. There is not a door, a window, or a shutter; not a roof, a wall, a post, or a pillar, in all Fondi, but is decayed, and crazy, and rotting away. The wretched history of the town, with all its sieges and pillages by Barbarossa and the rest, might have been acted last year. How the gaunt dogs that sneak around the miserable streets, come to be alive, and undevoured by the people, is one of the enigmas of the world.
A hollow-cheeked and scowling people they are! All beggars; but that is nothing. Look at them as they gather round. Some, are too indolent to come downstairs, or are too wisely mistrustful of the stairs, perhaps, to venture: so stretch out their lean hands from upper windows, and howl; others, come flocking about us, fighting and jostling one another, and demanding, incessantly, charity for the love of God, charity for the love of the Blessed Virgin, charity for the love of all the Saints. A group of miserable children, almost naked, screaming forth the same petition, discover that they can see themselves reflected in the varnish of the carriage, and begin to dance and make grimaces, that they may have the pleasure of seeing their antics repeated in this mirror. A crippled idiot, in the act of striking one of them who drowns his clamorous demand for charity, observes his angry counterpart in the panel, stops short, and thrusting out his tongue, begins to wag his head and chatter. The shrill cry raised at this, awakens half-a-dozen wild creatures wrapped in frowsy brown cloaks, who are lying on the church-steps with pots and pans for sale. These, scrambling up, approach, and beg defiantly. "I am hungry. Give me something. Listen to me, Signor. I am hungry!" Then, a ghastly old woman, fearful of being too late, comes hobbling down the street, stretching out one hand, and scratching herself all the way with her other, and screaming, long before she can be heard, "Charity! Charity! I'll go and pray for you directly, beautiful lady, if you'll give me charity!" Lastly, the members of a brotherhood for burying the dead: hideously masked, and attired in shabby black robes, white at the skirts, with the splashes of many muddy winters: escorted by a dirty priest, and a congenial cross-bearer: come hurrying past. Surrounded by this motley concourse, we move out of Fondi: bad bright eyes glaring at us, out of the darkness of every crazy tenement, like glistening fragments of filth and putrefaction."

Now if that won't engender a sense of civic pride in a fellow, I don't know what will.

[Carol · Rating 3 out of 5]

Enjoyed the description of travel methods and conditions in 19th century Italy. Loved the description of Pompeii, of Florence, and especially of an excursion to the summit of Vesuvius. PP 418 to 423 very entertaining.

[Alexander Rolfe · Rating 3 out of 5]

Four stars for American Notes, and two stars for Pictures From Italy, which Dickens didn't seem to like much. The squalor, begging, and medieval Catholicism really drew out his sour side. I enjoyed his doings in America-- bumping into a Choctaw chief (as well as the Kentucky Giant), visiting prisons, schools for the blind, legislatures, and lots of dangerous travel by steamboat. The things that did arouse his disgust were revelations to me as well: tobacco juice being spit everywhere at all times, filthy graffiti kept in books at Niagara Falls, northern newspapers full of ads for runaway slaves (which he quotes at length, and which are horrifying), and a licentious press.

[ashok · Rating 4 out of 5]

These are a couple of lesser known books by Dickens. Pictures from Italy makes entertaining reading -- especially the chapter about visiting the puppet theatre in Napoli and the wine trade in Genoa (I used Pictures from Italy as my travel guide in Italy, which made it even more interesting). This is really a travelogue, so you get fleeting descriptions colored by opinion. American Notes is no less interesting (if a slightly more difficult read).

[Gina · Rating 5 out of 5]

I only read the Italian one and I thoroughly enjoyed it. He is so funny and clever. Obviously I was always a fan of his work but here you feel as if he is speaking to you. It is so interesting to experience 1840s Italy along with him. It is also fascinating to see how people lived then. I loved how GE ended it talking about the beauty of the people and the sadness of how they had suffered as well as the belief they would rise again.

[Mark]

I'm sure it's a great book, but my reading schedule this year, at the moment, gives me no option but to set it aside, but a fourth finished. The language, for proper English, of course, is still pretty thick, & I do have some other short-term library loans that are well ahead in terms of what I want to be reading at the moment So sorry, Chuck, we'll get back to ya sometime.

[Alleycatfan · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is really fun so far though the tours of prisons and asylums I could do without. However, the humanity that he brings to all his work is clearly evident in his everyday life.

[Linda Hendry]

This was a charity shop bargain for the cover alone. Dickens goes to the USA on a paddle steamer in 1840. We could easily have lost him!

[Geneva · Rating 3 out of 5]

Update: Read Pictures of Italy and did not like it as much as American Notes. 2 stars

Review is for American Notes only. Will read Pictures of Italy at a later date. 4 stars