Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Liberty, Equality, Fraternity... or Death: A Review

Sometime between the end of high school and the beginning of college, I got into the habit of reading an Austen novel every winter and a Dickens novel every summer. I've finished all of Austen (except her short stories, which I am still working through) but I still have quite a few Dickens novels to finish.

This summer I chose A Tale of Two Cities, mainly because my copy is small and would be easier to move than a hardcover novel (Navy problems.) Normally I choose the novel according to the most recent BBC adaptation. For example, summer before last I read Great Expectations since two adaptations were coming out in the same year. Beforehand, I read Bleak House and Little Dorrit so that I could watch the lengthy seven hour adaptations which BBC masterfully produced. Unfortunately, there are no recent adaptations of A Tale of Two Cities, and no adaptations on Netflix.

A Tale of Two Cities takes place between London and Paris during the late 18th century. The novel is divided into three parts: Part One mainly occurs in pre-Revolution Paris; Part Two mainly takes place in London; and Part Three unfolds in Paris at the height of the French Revolution. All the main characters have connections with both cities, which is a major driving force behind the novel.

The novel begins when a banker named Mr. Lorry accompanies Lucie Manette to Paris to retrieve her father, a doctor who spent twenty years in the Bastille. Upon retrieving him and bringing him back to London, Doctor Manette regains his sanity. Through different means they meet Sydney Carton and Charles Darnay, and quickly it becomes clear that both men are in love with Lucie. Lucie marries Darnay, and on their wedding day he tells Doctor Manette the secrets of his past. Here, the novel skips forward a few years. Darnay receives a letter from a friend in France who has been imprisoned, and Darnay embarks on a rescue mission to France. Before making it to Paris, he is imprisoned when it is discovered that he is the heir of a French nobleman. Lucie and Doctor Manette come to Paris as soon as they hear word of Darnay's imprisonment, and after a year a trial proceeds where Doctor Manette convinces the jury of Darnay's innocence. Darnay is released, but is later taken into custody again at the urges of Monsieur and Madame Defarge, two leaders in the Revolution. At the second trial, Monsieur Defarge produces a letter written by Doctor Manette during his imprisonment in the Bastille which identifies Darnay's family as the instigators behind the Doctor's unfair imprisonment. Darnay is sentenced to the guillotine the following day. Sydney Carton arrives in Paris and, displaying his love for Lucie, sneaks Darnay out of the prison and takes his place at the guillotine, allowing Lucie and Darnay to escape from France.

It is a morbid ending to an equally dark novel, but in that way Dickens captures the essence of the French Revolution. He incorporates those Romantic elements which are prominent throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, especially in Gothic novels, and creates a terrifying tale of a period of bloodshed. The dismal, hopelessness experienced by Lucie and Darnay is similar to Emily's struggle in The Mysteries of Udolpho as she attempts to escape from the Castle Udolpho. While Dickens does not address elements such as the supernatural like are found in Gothic novels, the elements of death, hopelessness, imprisonment, terror, and a wicked villain are all driving forces behind Gothic novels.

Dickens is writing about seventy years after the beginning of the Revolution. The equivalent would be someone today writing about World War II. While he was not alive during this time and he did not have the advantage of extensive academic research, there were still people alive who lived through it, people who's families were affected by it, just like today the effects of World War II are still felt in small ways.

Dickens points out several aspects of the French Revolution which are sometimes overlooked by high school history classes, and even college history classes. History books focus on the annihilation of the French aristocracy: the deaths of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, the murder of countless French nobles, and the pillage of French chateaus across the country. But Dickens reveals the depth of the wickedness of the French Revolution: death did not stop at the nobility.

One of the initial chapters of the novel portrays a cask of wine from the Defarge's wine shop breaking open on the streets, and the peasants flocking to scoop up the wine in any way possible. But, the street is stained red. Dickens continues this symbolism later in the book when the Revolution begins, as the streets are stained red with blood at the hands of Monsieur and Madame Defarge. Monsieur Defarge becomes one of the primary judges at the trials of the prisoners, at which Madame Defarge manipulates the outcome through her husband.

The tragic loss of life experienced during the French Revolution was expedited by the guillotine. And such a machine did not differentiate between male or female, rich or poor.
Lovely girls; bright women, brown-haired, black-haired, and gray; youths; stalwart men and old; gentle born and peasant born; all red wine for La Guillotine, all daily brought into light from the dark cellars of the loathsome prisons, and carried to her through the street to slake her devouring thirst. Liberty, equality, fraternity, or death -- the last, much the easiest to bestow, O Guillotine! (p.278)
How powerful are those words! Liberty, equality, fraternity, or death! Dickens' clever adaptation of the slogan of the French Revolution brings to light the true power of the Revolution. While the nobility was certainly the primary target, the peasantry did not escape suspicion. An act of treason could be conjectured at any point. Despite the fact that Darnay had renounced his family and his title because of his opposition to their treatment of the peasantry, Madame Defarge still demanded his death due to his association with the nobility. The frail seamstress who befriends Sydney Carton as they proceed to the guillotine was accused of "plots". Each day became a competition to see how many prisoners would be executed in a day, where the true Revolutionaries craved a higher death toll the following day. And just like the wine cask, the peasants could not shed enough blood to quench their thirst.

Despite the darkness of the novel, Dickens does end with one ray of light. The death of Sydney Carton allows Charles Darnay to safely escape France with his wife, child, and father-in-law. Sydney, who is not always positively displayed in the novel, sacrifices himself  for Lucie's happiness. He repeats a scripture passage as he approaches the guillotine, and it is clear that he is at peace with his fate. Despite his shortcomings, he dies for love and he dies in peace.

Dickens is often described as a genius, and this novel has been acclaimed as one of the best fictional works about the French Revolution. I can't argue with either of those assertions. He accurately demonstrates the blood lust which brought down the ancien régime, and sets the background for nearly a century of socio-political anarchy in France. A background that was rooted in the unfortunate ideals of liberty, equality, fraternity, or death.

Monday, July 28, 2014

Being a housewife isn't a job, right?

I've always dreaded dinners with people that I don't know well. It isn't that my conversation skills are lacking, or that I am an overly shy person. But there's one question that I hate answering: "what do you do?" I respond simply that I'm a housewife, and quickly turn the conversation back to my guests. I am not ashamed that I don't have a career other than being a wife, but I've always felt like people look down on me for not doing more with my life.

I graduated in December 2012 with a degree in European History. I was at the top of my class. I graduated a semester early because I took 18 credits a semester and pushed myself to the limit. I was one class short of a double major. I would have gone to grad school if I'd never met my husband, but I was fortunate enough to marry a man who loves me enough to let me choose whether I want to work or not. Without sounding too pompous, I'm a fairly intelligent person, and I like to think that is evident in my conversation.

Most people are too courteous to question my decision to be a housewife, but in nearly every case the looks I get ask: "Don't you want to do more with your life?"

My simple answer is no.

Just because I don't get up at 6:30 every morning, get ready, and rush out the door to get to work on time doesn't mean that I don't "work". I clean the house, do the dishes, fix dinner, and run errands. This allows my husband to come home to a house that is (normally) clean and a home-cooked meal. He can focus more on his work instead of fretting about having clean socks and lunch meat for the next day.

Being at home every day allows me personal growth, too. I read, write, play the piano, and sew. In the last few months, I've made six charity quilts, with another in progress. This does not include other projects that I have completed for myself, family, and friends. I helped with Vacation Bible School last week and attended a seminar at church the week before, both opportunities that would have been more challenging if I worked outside of the home. This is just a short list, which I could expound upon for at least another paragraph.

I can also focus more on my husband's needs. Part of marriage is recognizing your spouse's needs and doing your best to accommodate them. While he's in aviation training, he spends most of the day and evening studying. So by fixing him dinner and doing the laundry, I'm doing the only thing I can to help him through flight school. Staying home also allows me to spend what little time I can with him, according to his schedule, without distracting him too much from his studies.

I could go on for hours about the benefits to not working, but my point is this: I am doing plenty with my life. What is more important than helping my best friend and husband in what he needs? Helping at church? Cooking for the flight students who are having a study session in our living room? Not working outside the home opens up numerous possibilities -- possibilities which I'm incredibly grateful to have. I have the chance to help other people, to make their lives easier, and to perform my vocation as a wife and friend.

I won't say that there aren't negative aspects to being a housewife. Our income is limited to an officer's salary, which means watching our finances and limiting our spending. My friendships are limited to church friends and my husband's Navy friends, since I don't have work relationships to cultivate. And I don't have the deadlines that I would have had in grad school that would have forced me to heighten my knowledge through research and lecture.

So next time you meet a housewife, don't judge her for not doing more with her life. She has chosen a career just like you have. She is serving her family so that their lives are more comfortable and enjoyable. She is impacting the world just as much as you by raising her children to be respectful, intelligent people. She is sacrificing herself and her desire for the people that she loves.

And honestly, I think I have the best job in the world.