A Tale of Two Cities

by Charles Dickens

It was so like Smith's work, so much more like the top of a strongly spiked wall than a head of hair, that the best of players at leap-frog might have declined him, as the most dangerous man in the world to go over.

I just think this is silly and a fun way to describe someone's hair.

But, though the bank was almost always with him, and though the coach (in a confused way, like the presence of pain under an opiate) was always with him,

Ah yes, a common addictive drug during the time of the early 1800's. Many romanticist poets such as Thomas De Quincey writes about "eating" the drug in "Confessions of an English Opium-Eater" (1821). Another famous poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, historically took opium and wrote "Kubla Khan" (1798). Very interesting aspect in the concept of the time this book takes place, and when it was published.

When the mail got successfully to Dover,

Could this be a reference to Matthew Arnold's "Dover Beach"?

The likeness passed away, like a breath along the surface of the gaunt pier-glass behind her, on the frame of which, a hospital procession of negro cupids, several headless and all cripples, were offering black baskets of Dead Sea fruit to black divinities of the feminine gender—

Could this be a bit of racism? I would argue no. I think the juxtaposition of "negro" and "cupid" is an interesting comparison. He might be attempting to make a comment on the dehumanization of black people similar to that of the French Revolution. Similar to a corruption of innocence in a way.

Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled look towards the hospital procession of negro cupids. As if they had any help for anybody in their absurd baskets!

Dickens is describing this scene as out of place. It is grotesque. Cupid would assume a sort of natural or innocent love. Describing "negroes" as cupids, he describes them as headless, crippling, etc. Their pureness is essentially damaged by the sufferings underwent by the hands of slavery. The baskets he is referring to are filled with "Dead Sea fruit", which is the inability to really change anything. They are offering poisoned fruit to divinites, but to no avail. I like this small detail.

The wine was red wine, and had stained the ground of the narrow street in the suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, where it was spilled. It had stained many hands, too, and many faces, and many naked feet, and many wooden shoes. The hands of the man who sawed the wood, left red marks on the billets; and the forehead of the woman who nursed her baby, was stained with the stain of the old rag she wound about her head again. Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched, his head more out of a long squalid bag of a nightcap than in it, scrawled upon a wall with his finger dipped in muddy wine-lees—BLOOD.

The short passage opening us as readers to France is quite interesting. Wine could represent the class divide between poor and wealthy. The poor struggle over each other to get a sip of wine (or symbolically wealth). No one can quite get enough. Yet, everyone still returns back to their daily lives. Dickens could be commenting on the inequality of classes, possibly even violence since the wine was red. Could this really be another commentary on the bloodiness of the French Revolution? The fact that it is left on everyone displays the impact of the violence; no one comes out clean. When war or death is invovled, everone is involved. Very neat.

"If you hear in my voice—I don't know that it is so, but I hope it is—if you hear in my voice any resemblance to a voice that once was sweet music in your ears, weep for it, weep for it! If you touch, in touching my hair, anything that recalls a beloved head that lay on your breast when you were young and free, weep for it, weep for it! If, when I hint to you of a Home that is before us, where I will be true to you with all my duty and with all my faithful service, I bring back the remembrance of a Home long desolate, while your poor heart pined away, weep for it, weep for it!"

The repetition here is beautfiul. "Weep for it" to confirm you know the person you love? My goodness!

newly released from the horror of being ogled through the windows, by the heads exposed on Temple Bar with an insensate brutality and ferocity worthy of Abyssinia or Ashantee.

Abyssinia is now modern-day Ethopia and Ashantee is Ghana, two African countries that were viewed during this period of time as "exotic" or "savage" since they were not colonized. Dickens with his eurocentric view is saying those who are looking into the Tellson's are wild or uncivilized to do so. He is attempting again to say his current period of time is cruel, but by comparing it to African countries, feels just a tad bit wrong.

Death is Nature's remedy for all things, and why not Legislation's?

This feels like a pretty harsh view of the world, but possibly from Dicken's own frustration with legislation and brutality of the French Rev. You could call it a "radical" view or progressive of its' time. He's arguing that if death ends suffering and injustice 'naturally', then why not abolish the laws that do so to others? Why not serve the miniority?

It was famous, too, for the pillory, a wise old institution, that inflicted a punishment of which no one could foresee the extent; also, for the whipping-post, another dear old institution, very humanising and softening to behold in action; also, for extensive transactions in blood-money, another fragment of ancestral wisdom, systematically leading to the most frightful mercenary crimes that could be committed under Heaven.

Good old sarcastic Dickens...

Whatever is is right;" an aphorism that would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome consequence, that nothing that ever was, was wrong.

he'll be drawn on a hurdle to be half hanged, and then he'll be taken down and sliced before his own face, and then his inside will be taken out and burnt while he looks on, and then his head will be chopped off, and he'll be cut into quarters. That's the sentence."

I forgot they did this during Victorian times (thank you Brittany Broski) ! A punishment called "quartering" , usually reserved for treason, would require the victim to be hung, disemboweled, and cut into "quarters" or 4 pieces. Quite brutal

That, they never could lay their heads upon their pillows; that, they never could tolerate the idea of their wives laying their heads upon their pillows; that, they never could endure the notion of their children laying their heads upon their pillows; in short, that there never more could be, for them or theirs, any laying of heads upon pillows at all, unless the prisoner's head was taken off.

I really like the balance Dickens is setting up here. It's a bit sarcastic and pokes fun of those who genuinely believe that life would be better, and they would be safe if this random man's head was brutally taken off and body severed. He's calling out a divide that exists between a jury (those who decide your fate) and what little control you have on life (while they could care less).

The blue-flies buzzed again,

Describing the crowd witnessing the court trial as "blue flies" is such an interesing symbol! Flies usually represent decay or filth, since flies appear around such atmospheres. If the crowds are blue flies, then Dickens is saying they are not comprehendable. They buzz and each looks the same. It's a mindless swarm bent on and driven by the possibility of witnessing a brutal death. They are easily swayed with no individual thought for themselves. Nicely done.

The learned profession of the law was certainly not behind any other learned profession in its Bacchanalian propensities;

Charles Dickens is referring to the ancient Roman god, Bacchus, who was associated with wine and celebration. The legal profession or law having "Bacchanalian propensities" is saying that lawyers like to drink and party during this time period. However, the legal field is not the only field that indulges often. Dickens is pointing out the hypocrisy and questionable legal practices during this time.

The lion then composed himself on his back on a sofa on one side of the drinking-table, while the jackal sat at his own paper-bestrewn table proper, on the other side of it, with the bottles and glasses ready to his hand.

What a fun narrative device! Using animals to symbolize characters and referring to them in this manner. Very neat.

The footsteps were incessant, and the hurry of them became more and more rapid. The corner echoed and re-echoed with the tread of feet; some, as it seemed, under the windows; some, as it seemed, in the room; some coming, some going, some breaking off, some stopping altogether; all in the distant streets, and not one within sight.

Think this represents the growth of the French Revolution and its' forces. The characters cannot see where the footsteps are coming from meaning they are powerless against the government. It could even represent the powers of the government and authority oppressing the characters.

Yes. It took four men, all four ablaze with gorgeous decoration, and the Chief of them unable to exist with fewer than two gold watches in his pocket, emulative of the noble and chaste fashion set by Monseigneur, to conduct the happy chocolate to Monseigneur's lips. One lacquey carried the chocolate-pot into the sacred presence; a second, milled and frothed the chocolate with the little instrument he bore for that function; a third, presented the favoured napkin; a fourth (he of the two gold watches), poured the chocolate out. It was impossible for Monseigneur to dispense with one of these attendants on the chocolate and hold his high place under the admiring Heavens. Deep would have been the blot upon his escutcheon if his chocolate had been ignobly waited on by only three men; he must have died of two.

Interesting metaphor! Chocolate here represents indulgence and the high power of the aristocats during this time period. Monseigneur lives in *extreme* luxury, even being fed by multiple servants. Once again, Dickens comments on how the wealthy overconsume materials, and the social divide that exists between the upper and lower classes.

Military officers destitute of military knowledge; naval officers with no idea of a ship; civil officers without a notion of affairs; brazen ecclesiastics, of the worst world worldly, with sensual eyes, loose tongues, and looser lives; all totally unfit

Dickens is saying that the uppper class and ranking officials never tend to know what they're truly doing. He is speaking about aristocats in connection with one another. They do not work hard and are not the ones doing the grunt of the work. Interesting take.

People not immediately connected with Monseigneur or the State, yet equally unconnected with anything that was real, or with lives passed in travelling by any straight road to any true earthly end, were no less abundant. Doctors who made great fortunes out of dainty remedies for imaginary disorders that never existed, smiled upon their courtly patients in the ante-chambers of Monseigneur. Projectors who had discovered every kind of remedy for the little evils with which the State was touched, except the remedy of setting to work in earnest to root out a single sin, poured their distracting babble into any ears they could lay hold of, at the reception of Monseigneur. Unbelieving Philosophers who were remodelling the world with words, and making card-towers of Babel to scale the skies with, talked with Unbelieving Chemists who had an eye on the transmutation of metals, at this wonderful gathering accumulated by Monseigneur. Exquisite gentlemen of the finest breeding, which was at that remarkable time—and has been since—to be known by its fruits of indifference to every natural subject of human interest, were in the most exemplary state of exhaustion, at the hotel of Monseigneur. Such homes had these various notabilities left behind them in the fine world of Paris, that the spies among the assembled devotees of Monseigneur

Peasant women kept the unfashionable babies close, and brought them up, and charming grandmammas of sixty dressed and supped as at twenty.

If the Day of Judgment had only been ascertained to be a dress day, everybody there would have been eternally correct.

The water of the fountain ran, the swift river ran, the day ran into evening, so much life in the city ran into death according to rule, time and tide waited for no man, the rats were sleeping close together in their dark holes again, the Fancy Ball was lighted up at supper, all things ran their course.

My friend, I will die, perpetuating the system under which I have lived."

A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but I wish you to know that you inspired it."

approached; they were bawling and hissing round a dingy hearse and dingy mourning coach, in which mourning coach there was only one mourner, dressed in the dingy trappings that were considered essential to the dignity of the position.

Excellent use of alliteration

It was as if a professed unbeliever in ghosts should be frightened by a ghost story.

So much was closing in about the women who sat knitting, knitting, that they their very selves were closing in around a structure yet unbuilt, where they were to sit knitting, knitting, counting dropping heads.

I have altogether perished from the remembrance of the living, and in the next generation my place was a blank."

Headlong, mad, and dangerous footsteps to force their way into anybody's life, footsteps not easily made clean again if once stained red, the footsteps raging in Saint Antoine afar off, as the little circle sat in the dark London window.

Every pulse and heart in Saint Antoine was on high-fever strain and at high-fever heat. Every living creature there held life as of no account, and was demented with a passionate readiness to sacrifice it.

This, That, and The Other, all had something disparaging to say, in French or in English, concerning the Marquis who was not to be found.

One of the many reasons Dickens is so refreshing to read! Writing common nouns "this", "that", and "other" as proper nouns is so compelling. Such a little change that provides personality to a seemingly boring interaction.

"I understand how to put you in a corner, Mr. Darnay," said Bully Stryver,

Mr. Stryvver's first name is actually Sydney. Another reason Dickens is so interesting is because he makes interactions easy to follow along with using "Bully" as a way to show the readers Stryvver's arrogance.

Like the mariner in the old story, the winds and streams had driven him within the influence of the Loadstone Rock, and it was drawing him to itself, and he must go.

Dickens is referencing Coleridge's story or rather poem, "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" which was one of the first 'romantic' poems I read by English poets of the 1700s. It's about a mariner who is riddled with guilt and haunted by his own actions. It is cool to see Dickens use this to explain how Darnay is feeling at this moment.

Ghosts all! The ghost of beauty, the ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes that were changed by the death they had died in coming there.

The great grindstone, Earth, had turned when Mr. Lorry looked out again, and the sun was red on the courtyard. But, the lesser grindstone stood alone there in the calm morning air, with a red upon it that the sun had never given, and would never take away.

What an interesting comparison! A regular, small grindstone being worked to death by mean compared to Earth as the great grindstone that continues to turn. But the smaller grindstone must represent the lives of the French and English, forever spilling blood over a feud.

It was the popular theme for jests; it was the best cure for headache, it infallibly prevented the hair from turning grey, it imparted a peculiar delicacy to the complexion, it was the National Razor which shaved close: who kissed La Guillotine, looked through the little window and sneezed into the sack. It was the sign of the regeneration of the human race. It superseded the Cross. Models of it were worn on breasts from which the Cross was discarded, and it was bowed down to and believed in where the Cross was denied.

"I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die." Now, that the streets were quiet, and the night wore on, the words were in the echoes of his feet, and were in the air. Perfectly calm and steady, he sometimes repeated them to himself as he walked; but, he heard them always. The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge listening to the water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the picturesque confusion of houses and cathedral shone bright in the light of the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the sky. Then, the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and for a little while it seemed as if Creation were delivered over to Death's dominion. But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden of the night, straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. And looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a bridge of light appeared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river sparkled under it. The strong tide, so swift, so deep, and certain, was like a congenial friend, in the morning stillness. He walked by the stream, far from the houses, and in the light and warmth of the sun fell asleep on the bank. When he awoke and was afoot again, he lingered there yet a little longer, watching an eddy that turned and turned purposeless, until th...

Just wow. No words. Dickens is writing the moon and night to represent death: cold, and pale. Then, the sun rises which shines and allows the river to be seen. The river represents life and the people as it flows through the city. This metaphor accompanied by the popular Christian reference is so good! I can literally feel the melancholy and grief from the page.

There could have been no such Revolution, if all laws, forms, and ceremonies, had not first been so monstrously abused, that the suicidal vengeance of the Revolution was to scatter them all to the winds.

The wind is rushing after us, and the clouds are flying after us, and the moon is plunging after us, and the whole wild night is in pursuit of us; but, so far, we are pursued by nothing else.

Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of rapacious license and oppression over again, and it will surely yield the same fruit according to its kind.

Jezebels,

I actually only know what this means because of Little House on the Prairie, embarrassingly enough. A Jezebel is an unfaithful woman to religion, specifically Christianity.

"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."