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Foulon who told my baby it might suck grass, when these breasts were dry with want! O mother of God, this Foulon!
A Tale of Two Cities
O Heaven our suffering! Hear me, my dead baby and my withered father: I swear on my knees, on these stones, to avenge you on Foulon! Husbands, and brothers, and young men, Give us the blood of Foulon, Give us the head of Foulon, Give us the heart of Foulon, Give us the body and soul of Foulon, Rend Foulon to pieces, and dig him into the ground, that grass may grow from him!
With these cries, numbers of the women, lashed into blind frenzy, whirled about, striking and tearing at their own friends until they dropped into a passionate swoon, and were only saved by the men belonging to them from being trampled under foot. Nevertheless, not a moment was lost; not a moment!
This Foulon was at the Hotel de Ville, and might be loosed. Never, if Saint Antoine knew his own sufferings, insults, and wrongs! Armed men and women flocked out of the Quarter so fast, and drew even these last dregs after them with such a force of suction, that within a quarter of an hour there was not a human creature in Saint Antoine's bosom but a few old crones and the wailing children.
The shoemaker's bench in the first plate is connected with the twin towers of the Bastille, occupied by the victorious revolutionaries in the second plate. Just as the cobbler's workbench is out of place in the physicians study with its three shelves of books, ornate screen, and comfortable chair — so the implements of destruction in the second plate — bloodied swords, knives, and meat-cleavers — and the military drum seem quite incongruous in the hands of women. Each scene involves a passive object about to be destroyed as symbolic of an odious and oppressive past, the glum Foulon just left of centre being the human counterpart of the bench.
A re-visiting of the poses and violent action of "The Rioters with their Spoils" and "The Rioters at Work" in Phiz's plates for Dickens's first historical novel, Barnaby Rudge twenty years earlier, "The Sea Rises" reiterates the left-to-right movement of the earlier crowd scenes, "The Stoppage at the Fountain" and "The Spy's Funeral," but centuries of pent-up anger, poverty, and near-starvation have transformed some of the participants in the Bastille riot into animals, as Phiz suggests through the gaunt figure and fury-like visage of the female, centre.
Here, no thoughtful and respectably dressed bourgeoisie are present; there is no moderating influence; just up-right of rear centre, barely recognizable human heads are thrust above the level of the crowd's heads. What is new here, both in terms of the earlier novel's riot scenes and the earlier crowd scenes of A Tale of Two Cities is a sense of power unleashed, of a tidal wave of humanity about to sweep away neverything before it; this crowd is not full of caricatures as the 83 plates' crowds are, and the objects of their destruction are not mere property but individuals exemplified by the hapless Foulon and a centuries-old oppression by institutions represented by the Bastille.
This reconsideration of Phiz's critically under-rated and neglected plates for A Tale of Two Cities and how best to read them was stimulated in part by Elizabeth Cayzer's critical reappraisal of seven of the sixteen plates in her Dickensian article. Some of her most perceptive observations occur in her analysis of "The Accomplices," in which an anxious and furtive Miss Pross and Mr.
Lorry dismember the shoemaker's bench that was Dr. Manette's sole companion during his confinement in the Bastille: The reader would be fully alert to such textual implications by now while, at the same time, comparing this picture with its companion 'The Sea Rises' which does deal with murder. Further echoes with events in Paris are exhibited in the wooden bench compare the lamp-posts and the saw compare the mob's axes and other improvised tools of destruction and murder.
Browne, typically, adds his own touch of irony by placing a skull on top of the bookcase, and comments on Lucie's probable anxiety over her friends' actions by the inclusion of an oval portrait-head of a young woman peering down on the scene. The skull is both an object appropriate to a doctor's study and a grim foreshadowing of the maniacal forces of destruction unleashed in the companion plate that threaten many of the tale's principals.
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The bench, screen, and books acquire additional meanings when one juxtaposes "The Accomplices" and previous pictures. The inverted cobbler's bench is the same one on which the withdrawn, ill-clad ex-prisoner sits in "The Shoemaker" June , and resembles that on which Dr. Manette sits in the lower-right register of the monthly wrapper.
Later, monthly readers will encounter that same bench in the frontispiece "In the Bastille" December. Thus, the bench comes to represent an irrepressible past to which in "The Accomplices" the well-meaning vandals attempt to prevent their friend returning. The screen, or one very like it, connects Dr. Finally, the shelves of books in Dr. Manette's private library connect this scene with the scenes at Tellson's and the wine-shop. They remind us that recorded knowledge here, presumably, medical knowledge is power.
To clarify why Browne has established these visual resonances in "The Accomplices" and to what extent these originate with Dickens himself, one must turn once again to the printed text. The details of light Browne is probably wise in his choice of candle over lamp or rush-light , "chopper, saw, chisel, and hammer", as well as the "mysterious and guilty manner" of the pair are all there, but everything else in the plate is the artist's invention.
The room, we note, is specifically Dr. Manette's, and not just a parlour or drawing-room; thus, the vacant chair that bears witness to the clandestine dismemberment is Dr. Manette's, a metonymy for the usual occupant himself, a man of taste, discernment, and learning, a counterpoint to his other identity, prisoner and automaton. In contrast to the behind-the-scenes, close-up study of the destruction of the shoemaker's bench and implements intended to preserve the physician's sanity, "The Sea Rises" is a public panorama of anarchic natural forces that will sweep away innocent and guilty alike.
In its composition, it is akin to earlier plates "The Stoppage at the Fountain" and "The Spy's Funeral" with its violent motion from right to left accentuated in all three crowd scenes by fine, dense horizontal lines running through the lower half of the plate, suggestive of Shakespeare's "tide in the affairs of men" that, once set in motion, proves unstoppable and its swirling figures all gripped by powerful emotion.
It is likely that this is Phiz's realization of the Vengeance, "The short, rather plump wife of a starved grocer" who Dickens indicates carries a drum that she keeps behind her shop counter. Our eyes are drawn to a glum face in the midst of the maelstrom, Foulon, then is deftly drawn forward to a woman who calmly regards him although we cannot see her face, she is almost certainly intended to be Madame Defarge, distinguished by her cap while the other furies are characterized by "streaming hair,".
Already the crowd is approaching the fatal lamp standard extreme left. Present participles "panting, bleeding, yet always entreating and beseeching for mercy" in the printed text imply a highly active, groveling Foulon, not the rigid, passive figure in uniform in Phiz's plate. Nevertheless, Phiz achieves focus by Foulon's impassivity and the still figure of Madame Defarge who, as in the printed text, "silently and composedly" regards her prey as he approaches the lamp-post, pulled on by a musket-carrying male who may be Defarge, for he is described as carrying such a weapon when he enters Dr.
Finally, the lightly sketched-in face of Foulon left of center reminds us of another lightly sketched-in face, that of the Marquis right of center in "The Stoppage at the Fountain" — perhaps Phiz's way of suggesting that both men, like the system that they represent, are now less substantial than the oppressed masses who are rising against them. Lorry hacked the shoemaker's bench to pieces, while Miss Pross held the candle as if she were assisting at a murder — for which, indeed, in her grimness, she was no unsuitable figure. I think this is the text, closest I can find anyway: Then, among the advancing echoes, there was the tread of her tiny feet and the sound of her prattling words.
Let greater echoes resound as they would, the young mother at the cradle side could always hear those coming. They came, and the shady house was sunny with a child's laugh, and the Divine friend of children, to whom in her trouble she had confided hers, seemed to take her child in his arms, as He took the child of old, and made it a sacred joy to her. Ever busily winding the golden thread that bound them all together, weaving the service of her happy influence through the tissue of all their lives, and making it predominate nowhere, Lucie heard in the echoes of years none but friendly and soothing sounds.
Her husband's step was strong and prosperous among them; her father's firm and equal. Lo, Miss Pross, in harness of string, awakening the echoes, as an unruly charger, whip-corrected, snorting and pawing the earth under the plane-tree in the garden! A tremendous roar arose from the throat of Saint Antoine, and a forest of naked arms struggled in the air like shriveled branches of trees in a winter wind: Who gave them out, whence they last came, where they began, through what agency they crookedly quivered and jerked, scores at a time, over the heads of the crowd, like a kind of lightning, no eye in the throng could have told; but, muskets were being distributed—so were cartridges, powder, and ball, bars of iron and wood, knives, axes, pikes, every weapon that distracted ingenuity could discover or devise.
People who could lay hold of nothing else, set themselves with bleeding hands to force stones and bricks out of their places in walls. 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. As a whirlpool of boiling waters has a center point, so, all this raging circled round Defarge's wine-shop, and every human drop in the caldron had a tendency to be sucked towards the vortex where Defarge himself, already begrimed with gunpowder and sweat, issued orders, issued arms, thrust this man back, dragged this man forward, disarmed one to arm another, labored and strove in the thickest of the uproar.
Where is my wife? Here you see me! Madame's resolute right hand was occupied with an axe, in place of the usual softer implements, and in her girdle were a pistol and a cruel knife.
You shall see me at the head of women, by-and-bye. Alarm-bells ringing, drums beating, the sea raging and thundering on its new beach, the attack began. Deep ditches, double drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. Through the fire and through the smoke—in the fire and in the smoke, for the sea cast him up against a cannon, and on the instant he became a cannonier—Defarge of the wine-shop worked like a manful soldier, Two fierce hours.
Deep ditch, single drawbridge, massive stone walls, eight great towers, cannon, muskets, fire and smoke. That was well done to tie a bunch of grass upon his back. That was well done. Let him eat it now! Madame Defarge had but followed and turned her hand in one of the ropes with which he was tied — The Vengeance and Jacques Three were not yet up with them, and the men at the windows had not yet swooped into the Hall, like birds of prey from their high perches — when the cry seemed to go up, all over the city, "Bring him out!
Bring him to the lamp! Once, he went aloft, and the rope broke, and they caught him shrieking; twice, he went aloft, and the rope broke, and they caught him shrieking; then, the rope was merciful, and held him, and his head was soon upon a pike, with grass enough in the mouth for all Saint Antoine to dance at the sight of. They again joined hands. To both, he wrote that he would despatch letters in proof of his safety, immediately after his arrival. It was a hard day, that day of being among them, with the first reservation of their joint lives on his mind.
It was a hard matter to preserve the innocent deceit of which they were profoundly unsuspicious. But, an affectionate glance at his wife, so happy and busy, made him resolute not to tell her what impended he had been half moved to do it, so strange it was to him to act in anything without her quiet aid , and the day passed quickly.
Early in the evening he embraced her, and her scarcely less dear namesake, pretending that he would return by-and-bye an imaginary engagement took him out, and he had secreted a valise of clothes ready , and so he emerged into the heavy mist of the heavy streets, with a heavier heart. The unseen force was drawing him fast to itself, now, and all the tides and winds were setting straight and strong towards it.
He left his two letters with a trusty porter, to be delivered half an hour before midnight, and no sooner; took horse for Dover; and began his journey. He held the letter out inquiringly; and Monseigneur looked at it, in the person of this plotting and indignant refugee; and Monseigneur looked at it in the person of that plotting and indignant refugee; and 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. They will recompense him now, I hope, as he deserves.
Is that the sort of fellow? Let us look at his infamous name. Stryver on the shoulder, and said: D'ye hear what he did? Don't ask, why, in these times. Darnay, I am sorry for it. I am sorry to hear you putting any such extraordinary questions. Here is a fellow, who, infected by the most pestilent and blasphemous code of devilry that ever was known, abandoned his property to the vilest scum of the earth that ever did murder by wholesale, and you ask me why I am sorry that a man who instructs youth knows him? Well, but I'll answer you.
I am sorry because I believe there is contamination in such a scoundrel. There has been a violent stress in one direction, and it needs a counterweight. Assuming for a moment, that he was overworked; it would show itself in some renewal of this disorder? I do not think," said Doctor Manette with the firmness of self-conviction, "that anything but the one train of association would renew it.
I think that, henceforth, nothing but some extraordinary jarring of that chord could renew it. After what has happened, and after his recovery, I find it difficult to imagine any such violent sounding of that string again. I trust, and I almost believe, that the circumstances likely to renew it are exhausted. It was not for his friend to abate that confidence. He professed himself more relieved and encouraged than he really was, and approached his second and last point. He felt it to be the most difficult of all; but, remembering his old Sunday morning conversation with Miss Pross, and remembering what he had seen in the last nine days, he knew that he must face it.
Lorry, clearing his throat, "we will call—Blacksmith's work, Blacksmith's work. We will say, to put a case and for the sake of illustration, that he had been used, in his bad time, to work at a little forge. We will say that he was unexpectedly found at his forge again. Is it not a pity that he should keep it by him?
Lorry, with an anxious look at his friend. Manette, and his friend and confidant, the elderly English banker Jarvis Lorry, occurs some ten days after the marriage of Lucie Manette and Charles Darnay. Barnard deftly realizes the confessional scene in which Dr. Manette confronts obliquely — in the third person — his reversion to insanity immediately after his daughter's marriage.
In his book-lined study and apparently having reverted his saner self after nine days of relapsing into the Bastille identity of the shoe-mender, Dr. Manette left avoids making eye-contact with Lorry right, dressed much as he is in the third illustration at the very beginning of the volume as he attempts to assess the psychological condition of his "friend. Rather than the static scene in which Dickens has Dr. Alexandre Manette confront his recent retreat into his Bastille persona, Phiz chose to realize the emotionally charged conclusion of chapter 19 when Miss Pross and Mr.
Lorry clandestinely destroy their friend's shoe-making bench and equipment in "The Accomplices", one of two illustrations for the October monthly part. Compare the romantic headnote illustration for chapter nineteen by John McLenan in Harper's Magazine, August 27, Defarge had but sprung over a railing and a table, and folded the miserable wretch in a deadly embrace—Madame Defarge had but followed and turned her hand in one of the ropes with which he was tied—The Vengeance and Jacques Three were not yet up with them, and the men at the windows had not yet swooped into the Hall, like birds of prey from their high perches—when the cry seemed to go up, all over the city, "Bring him out!
Nor was this the end of the day's bad work, for Saint Antoine so shouted and danced his angry blood up, that it boiled again, on hearing when the day closed in that the son-in-law of the despatched, another of the people's enemies and insulters, was coming into Paris under a guard five hundred strong, in cavalry alone. Saint Antoine wrote his crimes on flaring sheets of paper, seized him—would have torn him out of the breast of an army to bear Foulon company—set his head and heart on pikes, and carried the three spoils of the day, in Wolf-procession through the streets.
Probably having had access to Jean-Louis Prieur's famous graphic rendering of the event or of another that depicts the execution of Bertier de Sauvigny at the same location later that same day, Barnard has achieved a dynamic realization of Dickens's account of revolutionary violence that is all the more interesting in that it invites the reader to compare the Household Edition's handling of his material and that of Phiz in the original serial sequence's in "The Sea Rises" in Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities in the October monthly number.
Although he was probably not acquainted with John McLenan's headnote vignette for "The Sea Still Rises" in Harper's Weekly 10 September , Barnard has certainly responded effectively to the Phiz illustration bearing the same title, which appeared in the twenty-second chapter of the second book in the serial sequence. With such vigorous writing in the historic present, which the vivid illustrations of Phiz and Barnard complement so well, it is no wonder that some modern readers believe that A Tale of Two Cities provides an accurate account of events leading up to the French Revolution — and that Madame Defarge and her publican husband are historical figures rather than purely literary inventions.
Dickens describes her in the midst of the action, playing with the hapless Foulon "as a cat might have done to a mouse" while her compatriots from Saint Antoine revile him and continue to stuff his mouth with grass. According to such historians of the period as Charles Knight , the group that abducted and hanged Foulon from a lamp standard near the city hall were peasants from Vitry, near Fontainebleau where Foulon had fled after the fall of the Bastille on July 14 — but why spoil a good story?
Dickens expropriated and assimilated "The Murder of Foulon and Berthier" in the fashion of such historical novelists as Sir Walter Scott, having the urban unemployed of Saint Antoine rather than agricultural workers from south of the metropolis punish Foulon for his hubris: Other sources give "hay," so that Dickens's text refers to both forms of animal fodder. Using his imagination to realize the violent moment from history and literature, Barnard has wooden-shoed peasants and urban proletarians with slippers and even bare feet truss up Foulon, in preparation for hoisting him up on the lamp post right rear, opposite the Hotel de Ville , the Jacobin cap and revolutionary cockade being historical artifacts that Barnard repeats throughout the scene to lend it verisimilitude.
One of the guards who had lately had custody of Foulon lies beneath his feet, presumably struck down by the meat-cleaver wielded by the gaunt, muscular Jacobin left. Although he has incorporated a number of female heads and limbs among the "forest of legs," curiously Barnard has not included the recognizable figures of Defarge and his wife. Shortly, as in McLenan's headnote vignette, the mob will severe Foulon's head and parade it through the streets on a pike. Whereas in Phiz's "The Sea Rises" Foulon in military uniform is still standing, the center of verbal abuse which the harridans of Saint Antoine hurl at him, in Barnard he has been swept off his feet and is barely recognizable as the uniformed official of Phiz's illustration.
Whereas Phiz gives us a sea of figures waving swords aloft and clearly shows the Bastille in the background, Barnard focuses on the foreground, giving us fewer but more solid figures in contrast to the October illustration. Muting the violence somewhat as he emphasizes the release of pent-up energy in the swirling mass of Saint Antoine women, Phiz has placed several bodies lying on the pavement, but these do not arrest our attention as does the single corpse at the center of Barnard's composition.
A History 3 vols. Lorry's usual desk, with Monseigneur swarming within a yard or two of it, boastful of what he would do to avenge himself on the rascal-people before long. It was too much the way of Monseigneur under his reverses as a refugee, and it was much too much the way of native British orthodoxy, to talk of this terrible Revolution as if it were the only harvest ever known under the skies that had not been sown—as if nothing had ever been done, or omitted to be done, that had led to it—as if observers of the wretched millions in France, and of the misused and perverted resources that should have made them prosperous, had not seen it inevitably coming, years before, and had not in plain words recorded what they saw.
Such vapouring, combined with the extravagant plots of Monseigneur for the restoration of a state of things that had utterly exhausted itself, and worn out Heaven and earth as well as itself, was hard to be endured without some remonstrance by any sane man who knew the truth. And it was such vapouring all about his ears, like a troublesome confusion of blood in his own head, added to a latent uneasiness in his mind, which had already made Charles Darnay restless, and which still kept him so.
Among the talkers, was Stryver, of the King's Bench Bar, far on his way to state promotion, and, therefore, loud on the theme: Him, Darnay heard with a particular feeling of objection; and Darnay stood divided between going away that he might hear no more, and remaining to interpose his word, when the thing that was to be, went on to shape itself out. The House approached Mr. Lorry, and laying a soiled and unopened letter before him, asked if he had yet discovered any traces of the person to whom it was addressed?
The House laid the letter down so close to Darnay that he saw the direction—the more quickly because it was his own right name. The address, turned into English, ran: To Monsieur heretofore the Marquis St. Confided to the cares of Messrs. Nobody else knew it to be his name; his own wife had no suspicion of the fact; Mr. Lorry could have none. Lorry, in reply to the House; "I have referred it, I think, to everybody now here, and no one can tell me where this gentleman is to be found.
Their tail-coats, snuff box, cane, fobs, waistcoats, riding-crop, silk stockings, and laced cuffs and shirt fronts, are the appropriate appurtenances of affluence. Stryver ironically derides the "heretofore" Marquis St.
A Tale of Two Cities Book 2, Chapter 21 Summary
Little does "Bully Stryver" know that in denouncing the Marquis St. Apparently, on the marriage morning Doctor Manette had sworn his son-in-law to secrecy about his real name, so that even Lucie does not know her own husband of three years as a member of the accursed race of St. A thorough Liberal, Darnay will now, out of a misguided sense of responsibility towards the old family retainer Gabelle whom Dickens named after the infamous salt tax , is about to leave wife and child as he is "drawn to the "Loadstone Rock".
Book II Chapter 19 Commentary: Manette, Jarvis Lorry and Miss Pross destroy his shoemaker's bench, his sole companion and solace throughout his eighteen years in the Bastille. The passage that the serial illustrators and Eytinge have realised is this: Dramatic as this textual moment may be, Household Edition illustrator Fred Barnard elected not to attempt it, perhaps because Phiz had already handled it so well. Other than Miss Pross's clenched left hand and slightly shocked expression, nothing in Eytinge's illustration suggests that the artist intends the dual character study to be a realization of their destruction of the shoemaker's bench.
However, since the pair appear alone together so rarely in the novel, Eytinge's object would seem to have been to complement their surreptitious act. As in Phiz's "The Accomplices," the pair are dressed in the fashion of the mid-eighteenth century, Miss Pross's cap, sleeves, and apron being identical to their counterparts in Phiz's more dynamic and detailed illustration. The McLenan serial illustration, "The Auto da Fe", Eytinge may very well have seen; however, the earlier American illustration appears not to have influenced the composition of the second.
Whereas Eytinge has Mr. Lorry, in a snuff-colored suit, standing beside Miss Pross, McLenan has the pair facing one another as Lorry, in a dark suit, wields a cleaver at the bench while Miss Pross illuminates his actions with a candle. As in Phiz's illustration, a screen behind McLenan's figures suggests the secretive nature of their destructive act intended to preserve Dr. The moral issue which these illustrations and the passage ask the reader to confront and one that lies at the heart of a work about political revolution is, "Do the ends ever justify the means?
Miss Pross and Mr. Lorry mean well when they destroy the workbench, but they fail to take into account the possible consequences to Dr. Eytinge's illustration, although effective as an imaginative portrait of these significant secondary characters, fails to address this moral issue because it fails to contextualise the moment realized by offering, as Phiz and McLenan do, the specifics of the workbench and the screen.
The Vengeance Sol Eytinge Jr. The passage upon which Eytinge has based his final illustration is most probably this, even though it does not specifically reference The Vengeance: We can kill as well as the men when the place [i. Although Dickens stipulates that The Vengeance is the "custodian of the drum" Book Two, Chapter 22 , Phiz imagines that the plump grocer's wife carrying the drum in the assault upon Foulon is a figure separate from that of The Vengeance centre. Of The Vengeance the cool, controlled, strategic Madame Defarge's atavistic, blood-thirsty, anarchic double and devoted deputy , Stone notes that this character is never named in the normal manner, and therefore personifies Saint Antoine's lust for retribution in the form of aristocratic blood.
Although The Vengeance may be regarded as a psychological projection of the "dark" side of Madame Defarge herself, as Stone asserts, neither Phiz in his group study nor Eytinge in his individual study seems to be offering such a psychological interpretation: Madame Defarge's ferocity, relentless and bloodthirsty, has been growing and maturing for many years. She is the product of unendurable grievances. She has good reasons for being what she is and doing what she does.
She embodies in her person what mobs — or at least most Dickensian mobs — embody in their corporate being. Like the mobs of Oliver Twist and Barnaby Rudge, like the mobs she leads but also follows, Madame Defarge is righteous as well as savage, aggrieved as well as wantonly destructive. However disordered her vision, however distorted her actions, she is still a rough embodiment of perceived justice in pursuit of perceived evil.
She is an embodiment, in short, of human and righteous impulses become wild and savage. Dickens fully empathizes with her wounded beginnings, he can savor, even glory in, her fierce flourishing's; but at the same time he views her with horror as a monstrous harpy, and he revels in her destruction.
In her dress and leadership role, she resembles the respectably-clad Madame Defarge rather than the harpies at the vortex of the illustration who grab and threaten to rend the immobilized figure in uniform, Old Foulon the Controller General of Finances under Louis XVI , representative of the class which has oppressed the denizens of Saint Antoine for centuries. Artfully, Phiz leaves the reader to imagine the mixed expression of elation, triumph, and blood-lust on Madame Defarge's face. On the other hand, Eytinge's portrait of Madame Defarge's lieutenant is a caricature of a human monster: With powerful arms and broad shoulders, Eytinge's virago figure is an emblem of revolutionary retribution for past injustices rather than a realistically-drawn female, a giantess or ogre out of fairytale and nightmare, and therefore a foreshadowing of Stone's symbolist and psychological interpretation of Dickens's character rather than a literal realization of the "short, rather plump wife of a starved grocer" that Dickens himself describes in the second paragraph of Book Two, Chapter 22 "The Sea Still Rises".
Eytinge's exaggerated Vengeance is hardly "the mother of two children," unless those offspring be Mindless Destruction and Unmitigated Retribution. Under Eytinge's hand she becomes the very spirit of the proletarian phase of the French Revolution, which succeeded the bourgeois and constitutional phases and led immediately to the excesses of the Reign of Terror, at the conclusion of which Dickens forecasts that this grocer's wife from Saint Antoine will perish under the very blade near, as one of the knitters in the front row, she has applauded the extermination of so many aristos and their sympathizers.
Here as elsewhere in his sequence of eight full-page illustrations Eytinge is not much interested in dressing his narrow stage. For Eytinge the whirlwind revolutionary Tale is an intersecting series of personal narratives enacted in narrow, generalized space rather than against a panoramic urban context. Setting is incidental, character is all. A woman personifying the concept and the goddess of Liberty leads the people forward over the bodies of the fallen, holding the flag of the French Revolution — the tricolour flag, which remains France's national flag — in one hand and brandishing a bayonetted musket with the other.
The figure of Liberty is also viewed as a symbol of France and the French Republic known as Marianne.
A Tale of Two Cities Book 2, Chapter 21 Summary | irideryjawex.tk
Book II Chapter 21 - A. Dixon Collins Edition Text Illustrated: Book II Chapter 23 - A. The trees environing the old chateau, keeping its solitary state apart, moved in a rising wind, as though they threatened the pile of building massive and dark in the gloom. Up the two terrace flights of steps the rain ran wildly, and beat at the great door, like a swift messenger rousing those within; uneasy rushes of wind went through the hall, among the old spears and knives, and passed lamenting up the stairs, and shook the curtains of the bed where the last Marquis had slept.
East, West, North, and South, through the woods, four heavy-treading, unkempt figures crushed the high grass and cracked the branches, striding on cautiously to come together in the courtyard. Four lights broke out there, and moved away in different directions, and all was black again. But, not for long. Presently, the chateau began to make itself strangely visible by some light of its own, as though it were growing luminous.
Then, a flickering streak played behind the architecture of the front, picking out transparent places, and showing where balustrades, arches, and windows were. Then it soared higher, and grew broader and brighter. Soon, from a score of the great windows, flames burst forth, and the stone faces awakened, stared out of fire. A faint murmur arose about the house from the few people who were left there, and there was a saddling of a horse and riding away.
The mender of roads, and two hundred and fifty particular friends, stood with folded arms at the fountain, looking at the pillar of fire in the sky. The rider from the chateau, and the horse in a foam, clattered away through the village, and galloped up the stony steep, to the prison on the crag. At the gate, a group of officers were looking at the fire; removed from them, a group of soldiers.
The chateau is on fire; valuable objects may be saved from the flames by timely aid! I have gone aside from my purpose; I was speaking about our being friends. Now, you know me; you know I am incapable of all the higher and better flights of men. If you doubt it, ask Stryver, and he'll tell you so. At any rate you know me as a dissolute dog, who has never done any good, and never will. If you could endure to have such a worthless fellow, and a fellow of such indifferent reputation, coming and going at odd times, I should ask that I might be permitted to come and go as a privileged person here; that I might be regarded as an useless and I would add, if it were not for the resemblance I detected between you and me, an unornamental piece of furniture, tolerated for its old service, and taken no notice of.
I doubt if I should abuse the permission. It is a hundred to one if I should avail myself of it four times in a year. It would satisfy me, I dare say, to know that I had it. I thank you, Darnay. I may use that freedom with your name? Hammerton has provided — "Tallest and most unpromising of men" — is not situated by either a chapter or a page number, although Hammerton has juxtaposed the image of Carton dressed as a barrister against his legal partner Stryver's complaining outside Tellson's about the iniquities of the revolutionary regime across the Channel in Chapter 24, "Drawn to the Loadstone Rock.
Even as Charles Darnay feels "drawn to the loadstone rock" to rescue the functionary of the house of St. Furniss makes Carton seem less physically attractive than the other illustrators have conceived of him; certainly, if not a pathetic figure, he is isolated and despondent in the Furniss study. In the original monthly sequence of illustrations, readers encountered the image of the disaffected but brilliant Sydney Carton twice in the two illustrations for the second installment, in court and then after Darnay's acquittal, outside the Old Bailey.
Similarly, in his weekly illustrations John MacLenan introduced Carton early in his narrative pictorial sequence. Although Fred Barnard in his Household Edition illustrations of realizes The Lion and the Jackal as dissolute attorneys burning the midnight oil, he does not present a study of Carton until much later on, when he vows to protect those whom Lucie cherishes. That Carton is dressed for court, despite the absence of a wig, and appears to be leaning on a rail perhaps of the prisoner's box suggests that Furniss is recalling his appearance when first introduced, at Darnay's Old Bailey trial for sedition in Book One, Chapter Three, "A Disappointment," a scene vividly realized by Phiz in one of the July engravings, The Likeness.
Although Furniss has depicted Carton as thoroughly inebriated in Carton Finds Consolation and as a dejected suitor in Carton Rejected, perhaps at this point in the narrative, when in the summer of France's revolutionary government has abolished titles and is feeling threatened by its neighbors, Furniss felt it necessary to remind the reader of Carton's professional competence. In contrast to Furniss's choice of illustration for this chapter, Fred Barnard presents Carton's bombastic partner, Stryver, playing the role of a militaristic Tory, advocating Britain's intervening on the side of the aristocracy to put down the revolution.
The hour was come, when Saint Antoine was to execute his horrible idea of hoisting up men for lamps to show what he could be and do. The sea of black and threatening waters, and of destructive upheaving of wave against wave, whose depths were yet unfathomed and whose forces were yet unknown.
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The remorseless sea of turbulently swaying shapes, voices of vengeance, and faces hardened in the furnaces of suffering until the touch of pity could make no mark on them. But, in the ocean of faces where every fierce and furious expression was in vivid life, there were two groups of faces — each seven in number — so fixedly contrasting with the rest, that never did sea roll which bore more memorable wrecks with it. Seven faces of prisoners, suddenly released by the storm that had burst their tomb, were carried high overhead: Whereas the novel's first American illustrator, John McLenan, provided Two illustrations to convey the violence of the outbreak of the Revolution, the wood-engraving within Chapter 21 for the 3 September installment entitled "In the name of all the angels or devils, work!
In Furniss's illustration of the mob inside the main courtyard of the Bastille, in contrast, there is perhaps but one recognizable figure from Dickens's narrative implying that the artist is seeing the moment illustrated through the mists of history rather than through a literary text , whereas the other sanctioned Dickens illustrator, Sol Eytinge, Jr. The effect of Furniss's lithograph is both impressionistic and photographic, whereas another illustrator Edmund Joseph Sullivan that same year depicting the The Walls of Jericho The Fall of the Bastille took an allegorical approach for his representation of this historical turning-point in his kinetic line drawing for Thomas Carlyle's The French Revolution, Chapter Six, "Storm and Victory.
The poor Invalides have sunk under their battlements, or rise only with reversed muskets: The very Swiss at the Portcullis look weary of firing; disheartened in the fire-deluge: See Huissier Maillard, the shifty man! On his plank, swinging over the abyss of that stone Ditch; plank resting on parapet, balanced by weight of Patriots, — he hovers perilous: Deftly, thou shifty Usher: Usher Maillard falls not: The Swiss holds a paper through his porthole; the shifty Usher snatches it, and returns.
Pardon, immunity to all! La Bastille est prise! Through the archway in the rear we see three round objects — undoubtedly the severed heads of a trio of Swiss defenders — but the effect is chaotic and nightmarish rather than gruesome. The single identifiable figure, just right of center, beating a drum would be The Vengeance, but one could hardly term this blotchy rendition a characterization in the sense that Eytinge's distorted figure offers a pointed interpretation of the inciter of mob violence. Nor should we confuse Furniss's version with the highly realistic realizations of the event published at the time, graphics such as Berthault's Fall of the Bastille: De Launay Governor of the Bastille is Arrested and Killed by the Crowd and Jean-Pierre-Louis-Laurent Houel's Prise de la Bastille 14 July , in both of which the artist takes the perspective of those outside, while the assault is still in progress and white smoke rises above the eight towers of the political prison.
In contrast, in this dark plate we have entered the belly of the beast, Revolution, and strive to make sense of what is happening in the mezzotint-like half-light. Furniss discards heroism, idealism, and even the individual actor in the historic scene as irrelevant in the ebb and flow of historical events seen from the perspective of over a century later, through a glass darkly. It was known directly, to the furthest confines of the crowd.
Defarge had but sprung over a railing and a table, and folded the miserable wretch in a deadly embrace — Madame Defarge had but followed and turned her hand in one of the ropes with which he was tied — The Vengeance and Jacques Three were not yet up with them, and the men at the windows had not yet swooped into the Hall, like birds of prey from their high perches — when the cry seemed to go up, all over the city, "Bring him out! Thirty-five years after Barnard's illustration and fifty years after Phiz's, Harry Furniss, apparently having studied both of these illustrations of the scene of mob violence, synthesizes the illustrations in his lithograph, moving Foulon to the right, but enlarging his figure considerably, and indicating to the left of the center the handful of hay that a zealous Jacobin as denoted by his Phrygian cap will presently cram down the bureaucrat's throat.
On the other hand, only eight years after the original serial publication, the other sanctioned Dickens illustrator, Sol Eytinge, Jr. Dixon in his lithograph identifies the Saint Antoine wine-shop as ground zero for the revolution, but only suggests the ensuing violence by having the Defarges hand out sabres to the assembled mob.
In the turbulent lithograph from an ink-and-wash drawing Furniss focuses upon the Phrygian caps that, as Sanders notes, "became both an emblem of the Revolution and a common item of dress amongst sansculottes". Sanders further notes that Dickens's account of the death of Foulon at the hands of the Defarges and their Saint Antoine compatriots "is substantially from Carlyle" FR 1.
With wild yells, Sansculottism clutches him, in its hundred hands: Only with the third rope for two ropes broke, and the quavering voice [of Foulon] still pleaded, can he be so much as got hanged! His Body is dragged through the streets; his Head goes aloft on a pike, the mouth filled with grass: Foulon looks shocked as he realizes that the Jacobin in the left foreground intends to stuff his mouth with straw, but at least four other members of the mob are clutching fistfuls of straw.
Like Phiz and Barnard, Furniss depicts Foulon caught up by the mob and buffeted, but not yet hanged and beheaded. Although the mob are pointing towards the right, Furniss has not indicated where the surging sea of humanity is drifting, namely towards a lamp standard, as described in the accompanying text. Whereas Furniss has made Foulon's torso a vertical and has rendered his thighs on a right-to-left diagonal, the crowd is overwhelmingly aligned on an opposing, left-to-right diagonal, so that the lone victim seems to be fruitlessly resisting the tidal movement from left to right, from past to future, and from repression to freedom.
The male and female figures center immediately to the left of the ensnared and embattled Foulon may be the Defarges, although these figures do not resemble the publicans of the earlier scenes, Defarge and Knitting. Whereas the women appear to be the leaders of the mob in Dickens's text and are accorded prominence in Phiz's October illustration, The Sea Rises, Furniss's post-Bastille Saint Antoine mob is overwhelmingly male. More significant than the issue of gender is the impression that Furniss conveys through this vigorous, insistent mass of humanity on the move, unstoppable and inexorable, but of one mind, so that the very composition of the scene underscores the inevitability of the destruction of Foulon and all of his ilk who in serving the establishment served themselves rather than the people of France.
Consideration of the issues underlying the French Revolution, prompted by examining Furniss's wash drawings The Fall of the Bastille and The End of Foulon unlike Phiz's somewhat allegorical The Sea Rises, titles suggestive of their chronicling historical events prompts one to consider Furniss's sources of inspiration, for his style of illustration here is so markedly different from the line drawings that dominate the first half of the book. On the one hand, as the captions beneath these historically-based illustrations suggest, Furniss is realizing scenes in the Dickens text.
However, the general absence of specific characters from A Tale of Two Cities and the antecedents in Thomas Carlyle's The French Revolution both suggest that, aside from his usual extra-textual sources, the illustrations of Hablot Knight Browne and Fred Barnard, Furniss has consulted Carlyle and other historical commentaries. The shift in style, then, from line drawings realizing characters in the text to wash drawings reproduced lithographically, surely signals some intention on Furniss's part to convey impressionistically the sheer power of actual events in the Revolution, as well as their influence on the history of Europe over the nineteenth century.
Taking this century-long perspective, Furniss would have us realize that, whereas we view literary characters and events directly and have sufficient authorial comment to assess them accurately, we view the reportage of history in a fragmented and flawed manner, subject to omissions and biases, through a glass darkly. The result of this shift in style is not nearly so satisfying to the viewer as Phiz's detailism and Barnard's realism.
Oct 03, Kim, once again, there's such a wealth of different pictures that I'll need a few hours to get through them all. Lorry and how they semi-secretly did away with the Doctor's shoemaker's bench. The two of them look so sinister and ghoulish especially the candle-bearing Miss Pross that McLenan had better taken a leaf out of Phiz's book, where we see the two "conspirators" in the course of the work of destruction, too. Our editors will review what you've submitted, and if it meets our criteria, we'll add it to the article.
Please note that our editors may make some formatting changes or correct spelling or grammatical errors, and may also contact you if any clarifications are needed. A Tale of Two Cities novel by Dickens. The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. Dec 13, See Article History. A Tale of Two Cities was an experiment, relying less than before on characterization, dialogue, and humour. An exciting and compact narrative, it lacks too many of his strengths to count among his major works.
Darnay is a highly principled young French aristocrat who is caught up in the events leading up to the French Revolution and is saved from the guillotine by Sydney Carton. Articles from Britannica Encyclopedias for elementary and high school students. Help us improve this article! Contact our editors with your feedback. A Tale of Two Cities.
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