Prioritizing? Not Really...

It is intriguing that chapter fifteen, Knitting, majorly focuses on a character of whom Dickens chooses only to refer to as “the mender of roads.” Possibly even more intriguing is the exchange between Madame Defarge and this nameless character toward the end of the chapter—it demonstrates a lot not only about his personality, but the viewpoints of French citizens as a whole in this era.

The exchange, on page 181, reads:

“’As to you,’ said she, ‘you would shout and shed tears for anything, if it made a show and a noise. Say! Would you not?’

'Truly, madame, I think so. For the moment.’ 

 ‘If you were shown a great heap of dolls, and were set upon them to pluck them to pieves and despoil them for your own advantage, you would pick the richest and gayest. Say! Would you not?’

‘Truly yes, madame.’

‘Yes. And if you were shown a flock of birds unable to fly, and were set upon them to strip them of their feathers for your own advantage, you would set upon the birds of the finest feathers; would you not?’

‘It is true, madame.’”

Just before this conversation, the mender of roads has a bit of an emotional episode in response to watching the King and Queen pass through the streets—an extremely grand and supposedly joyous occasion. I found this to be ironic considering the entirety of the chapter was devoted to his retelling of the unjust execution of Gaspard; an action performed by the aristocracy. I believe that is what Madame Defarge is referring to in the first paragraph: “You will devote yourself to anything, anything, as long as it is loud and exciting.” She means to say that he is disregarding whether or not this “thing” is actually positive or negative.

After the mender of roads responds affirmatively, Madame Defarge goes further into his distorted prioritizing technique. She metaphorically compares his choices to dolls and birds—if the mender of roads was in need of dolls to loot, his decision in choosing the perfect one would rely merely on the their status and the enthusiasm they bring him.  

Similarly, Madame Defarge uses birds as another example, basically stating “if you [the mender of roads] were to strip birds of their feathers to use or sell, you would immediately skin the most attractive-looking bird. You do not think about the bird that, in actuality, is the most valuable.”

This exchange demonstrates that the mender of roads is a character that relies heavily on excitement, vanity, and glamour to make his decisions. While he himself may not be the most elegant of people, he naturally entrusts his faith on those who are, regardless of their credentials. Therefore, he is blown away when he witnesses the bustle of the King and Queen.

Unfortunately, this is a mindset that many in France had at this time. I do see the sense in this—many of these citizens are poor and suffering, so they are naturally awed by those at large. But, as Madame Defarge explained, this is a dangerous place for one’s head, and it is imperative that the people of France, including the mender of roads, come to their senses.

Or else, Madame Defarge will do it for them!

Not Much of a Leader

Confusion while reading A Tale of Two Cities is pretty unavoidable. I had one of many encounters with it as I made my way through chapters seven and eight of Book the Second, and even after rereading it, I was left with as many questions as answers. Adding to my struggle is the fact that I missed class on Wednesday, so I was left to make sense of it on my own. Dickens proved this to be a difficult task.

My confusion started on page 110 in which the people attending Monseigneur's party--a luxurious, elite gathering of the country's finest--are described. Presence at this party is the ultimate status symbol, meaning attendance is a must. The passage is long, but the general gist of it is quite negative. A portion of it reads:

"Military officers destitute of military knowledge; naval officers with no idea of a ship; civil officers without a notion of affairs...Doctors who made great fortunes out of dainty remedies for imaginary disorders that never existed...Projectors who had discovered every kind of remedy for the little evils in which the State was touched, except the remedy of setting to work in earnest to root out a single sin..."

I was left confused after this passage because I was under the impression that this party was full of political leaders and national heroes, not complete and utter phonies. I could not comprehend why Dickens would give place seemingly undeserving people in a hotel of such luxury and wealth. Was he simple trying to confuse us?

Rereading the passage, however, I attempted to figure out what Dickens was conveying. Here, we have a group of socialites acting as if they're supremacists--while the next chapter focuses on a poor town full of struggling people who can barely afford to make it through the day. This comparison could be foreshadowing the impending war; the country's supposed "leaders" are less focused on the needs of the people than on their status, fortunes, and reputations. Their doctors, for example, have cured tons of tiny evils, but have done nothing in respect to fixing the country as a whole. This is sure to anger anybody.

Although I obviously know that the war is coming, I have to wonder how this will pan out--the citizens described in chapter eight are "submissive," weak, and poor--and they're going to start a war? How could they ever take on a character like Monsieur the Marquis, a guest at the party, and a horribly evil and dictating lord? He is disgusting, but immensely powerful.

Whatever the odds, I hope they do. Monsieur the Marquis and the rest of these so-called "leaders" need a wake-up call.

"Buried"

While reading a book of over 400 pages, it is easy to glaze over the meaning of a single, seemingly insignificant passage. However, In A Tale of Two Cities, it is unlikely that anything is insignificant, as Charles Dickens uses language as a tool to bring forth importance from every word.

An example of his incredible writing lies in chapter 4, "The Preparation." This section, when I first read it, seemed simply like a great description of the room in which we are first introduced to Lucie Manette. Mr. Jarvis Lorry enters through the doorway, and both he and the reader are faced with a dark, gloomy picture that leaves us feeling a bit hopeless.

The passage reads:

"It was a large, dark room, furnished in a funeral manner with black horsehair, and loaded with heavy dark tables. These had been oiled and oiled, until the two tall candles on the middle of the room were gloomily reflected on every leaf; as if they were buried, in deep graves of black mahogany, and no light to speak of could be expected from them until the were dug out" (22-23).

Dickens's language serves a dual purpose here. Its obvious and arguably primary job is simply a description of Lucie's room, of that which Dickens paints a beautiful picture of. His words create an image that evokes both a picture and a feeling for the reader, allowing us to feel as if we are in the room as well, surrounded by the same gloomy atmosphere that Lorry is when he walks through the door.

However, delving deeper into the passage, I took notice of a possible meaning that I believe Dickens is trying to communicate with us. Specifically, his use of the word "buried" caught my attention. Prior to this passage, Dickens wrote about a person being "buried," before being "recalled to life." While we, at this point, do not know if that was meant literally or figuratively, I am sure that his use of the word here--describing the candles--is directly related to the role being "buried" plays in the entire book.

As we continue to read, we soon find out that the person Lorry must "dig out" is Lucie's father, Dr. Manette. He, like the candles, has been buried beyond recognition and is need of rescue. The passage also speaks about the responsibility of the candles; of the light that is to be expected of them after they are dug out. I am curious what was to expected of Dr. Manette once he is dug out; what is his "light?"

And, more importantly, why is it expected? What exactly does Lorry need from Dr. Manette, and what role will it play later in the book?

I will continue to look for an answer to this question--whether it be spoken obviously by a character, written on a sign, or hidden in the simple description of a bedroom--as I continue to read. I must read closely and carefully, as Dickens's methods of foreshadowing so simply and cleverly make reading his work like a treasure hunt for information.The manner in which he can convey so much meaning into a seemingly insignificant passage is remarkable.