(ironically, in Dr. Manette’s name) needed to condemn him. Defarge
stops just short of denouncing Dr. Manette and Lucie, too, but there
are hints from Madame and friends that he’d better start toeing the
line.
Dickens leaves us with the thought that, finally, Defarge is
controlled by a force more powerful than politics, or even his wife.
In Sydney Carton’s last vision, Defarge and Madame Defarge perish by
the guillotine. Is it fate, irony, or historic inevitability that
kills them? You decide.
-MISS PROSS
Eccentric, mannish-looking Miss Pross is a type of character familiar
to readers of Dickens’ novels. Beneath her wild red hair and
outrageous bonnet, she’s as good as gold, a fiercely loyal servant.
Dickens places Miss Pross in the plot by means of her long-lost
brother. Solomon Pross is revealed to be John Barsad, Old Bailey spy
and “sheep of the prisons.”
Miss Pross’ two defining characteristics are her devotion to Lucie
and Solomon, and her stalwart Britishness. When Madame Defarge
marches in, armed, to execute Lucie and her family, Miss Pross
understands the Frenchwoman’s intent–but not a word she says. Miss
Pross has refused to learn French.
Miss Pross’ blind patriotism and devotion work to her advantage.
She’s empowered by love. Mistaking Miss Pross’ tears of resolve for
weakness, Madame Defarge moves toward a closed door, and in a heated
struggle is shot by her own pistol. A Tale of Two Cities isn’t
markedly anti-France or pro-England, but Miss Pross’ victory may
strike you as a victory for her country, too.
-STRYVER
Dickens dislikes Stryver. You may be hard put to find a single
lovable feature in this “shouldering” lawyer, who has been “driving
and living” ever since his school days with Sydney Carton. Yet the
ambitious Stryver–his name a neat summing up of the man–is making
his way in the world. With little talent for law, he pays the doomed
but brilliant Carton to do his work for him. For the Stryvers of
society, ambition and unscrupulousness count far more than skill.
Dickens’ Stryver is one of the new men of industrialized Victorian
England. Abhorring his progress in real life, Dickens renders him
the butt of jokes and scorn in the novel: Stryver’s three adopted
sons, though not of his flesh and blood, seem tainted by the mere
connection.
Dickens’ portrayal of Stryver as the man we love to hate seems rather
one-sided. Does this make him a more memorable creation, or of
limited interest? Notice how sharply Stryver is drawn in individual
scenes–during his midnight work sessions with Carton, and in his
conferences with Lorry about marrying Lucie. But once Lucie is
married, and Darnay returns to France, Stryver drops out of the
story. His role as the object of Dickens’ satire is at an end.
-JERRY CRUNCHER
For some readers, spiky-haired Jerry Cruncher supplies an element of
humor in an otherwise serious novel. Other readers claim that the
Cockney odd-job man who beats his wife for “flopping” (praying) isn’t
a particularly funny fellow. Cruncher’s after hours work is digging
up newly buried bodies and selling them to surgeons, which may not
seem a subject for comedy. But it does contribute, in two important
ways, to A Tale’s development.
Cruncher’s grave robbing graphically illustrates the theme of
resurrection: he literally raises people from the dead. (Victorian
grave robbers were in fact nicknamed “resurrection men.”)
One of the plot’s biggest surprises hinges on Cruncher’s failed
attempt to unearth the body of Roger Cly, the spy who testified with
John Barsad against Charles Darnay. In France, years after his
graveyard expedition, Cruncher discloses that Cly’s coffin contained
only stones and dirt. This information enables Sydney Carton to
force Barsad, Cly’s partner, into a plot to save Charles Darnay’s
life.
As for Cruncher’s moral character, a brush with Revolutionary terror
reforms him. He promises to make amends for his former “honest
trade” by turning undertaker, burying the dead instead of raising
them. In the last, tense pages of the novel, Cruncher’s vow, “never
no more will I interfere with Mrs. Cruncher’s flopping,” finally
strikes a humorous chord. It’s darkly comic relief.
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