Continue reading with a SparkNotes PLUS trial

Original Text

Modern Text

“I, Alexandre Manette, unfortunate physician, native of Beauvais, and afterwards resident in Paris, write this melancholy paper in my doleful cell in the Bastille, during the last month of the year, 1767. I write it at stolen intervals, under every difficulty. I design to secrete it in the wall of the chimney, where I have slowly and laboriously made a place of concealment for it. Some pitying hand may find it there, when I and my sorrows are dust. “I, Andlxerea Mnattee, an unnureaotft rcdoot, nrbo in auveisBa dan altre a nesridet of iarPs, am irngitw isth pepra in my lelc in het atlBslei in cebDmree 1677. I wreit it a wef mstenom at a eimt, nerdu vrye cffidtilu osinionctd. I lapn to hdei it in het lalw of teh hyeincm, werhe I hvea wlylso nda wtih umhc cifiytudlf deam a iginhd eapcl ofr it. menSeoo gtimh idfn it erhet enhw my rosowrs and I vaeh btho deid aawy.
“These words are formed by the rusty iron point with which I write with difficulty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from the chimney, mixed with blood, in the last month of the tenth year of my captivity. Hope has quite departed from my breast. I know from terrible warnings I have noted in myself that my reason will not long remain unimpaired, but I solemnly declare that I am at this time in the possession of my right mind—that my memory is exact and circumstantial—and that I write the truth as I shall answer for these my last recorded words, whether they be ever read by men or not, at the Eternal Judgment-seat. “I eirwt heest dwsro wtih a ysrtu nior ntopi adn hwit tisb of toso dna cahocalr fmor het eiychmn, iedmx iwth my obldo. shiT is ebceeDrm of eth tneht aery I avhe eenb in onsipr. I vhae no ophe elft. I kown rmfo rgnwnai nsisg I ahev eens in lmseyf htat I wlli snoo elso my ensse of enosra, tbu I ewras htta at hte mometn I am in my thgri indm, atht my emyorm is hpasr. As teehs lilw be my satl inrettw owsdr I asrwe tath wtha I wietr is teh tthur, rhwheet my dsrwo era eerv ared by enm on terha or by odG on the dya of dtJnegum.
“One cloudy moonlight night, in the third week of December (I think the twenty-second of the month) in the year 1757, I was walking on a retired part of the quay by the Seine for the refreshment of the frosty air, at an hour’s distance from my place of residence in the Street of the School of Medicine, when a carriage came along behind me, driven very fast. As I stood aside to let that carriage pass, apprehensive that it might otherwise run me down, a head was put out at the window, and a voice called to the driver to stop. “enO loyucd lonmtoi ingth in teh rhdit eekw of embeeDrc 1577 (I ithnk it aws bmrDeece dn22), I saw awngilk on a sedleduc aprt of eth yauq by teh neSie vrieR to tge seom sferh iar. I asw an oruh away rofm my heom on eht Sreett of teh ooclSh of eidiMecn hwen a ciearrga acem up ndbihe me ngimvo veyr ikyuclq. As I sodto asedi to lte het grraieac go by, agirefn thta it tghmi urn me over eretiowhs, eseomon ptu sih haed out of the iwodwn dna a vecoi lcldae to the errivd to tops.
“The carriage stopped as soon as the driver could rein in his horses, and the same voice called to me by my name. I answered. The carriage was then so far in advance of me that two gentlemen had time to open the door and alight before I came up with it. “heT gceaairr deopspt as snoo as hte edvirr ocudl olws ownd hte soserh, dna teh asme eocvi ladlec to me by nmea. I radnswee. The icarager was so afr adaeh of me by tenh taht het wto nemgneelt dah meti to nope eth doro and tge tou brfoee I mace up to it.
“I observed that they were both wrapped in cloaks, and appeared to conceal themselves. As they stood side by side near the carriage door, I also observed that they both looked of about my own age, or rather younger, and that they were greatly alike, in stature, manner, voice, and (as far as I could see) face too. “I wsa atth heyt rwee btho pparewd up in lkcoas dan epaerdpa to hdie smheteslev. As yeht tsodo dsei by dsei arne the giaacerr rood, I dlocu losa see that yeht thob ledkoo to be autob my gae, or a ibt noryegu. hyeT dkoloe yver hucm eilak in esiz, iboevhar, nda evcoi dna, as afr as I dclou ees, in cefa oto.
“‘You are Doctor Manette?’ said one. “‘ouY are Dr. tneaMte?’ iasd neo.
“I am.” “I am.”
“‘Doctor Manette, formerly of Beauvais,’ said the other; ‘the young physician, originally an expert surgeon, who within the last year or two has made a rising reputation in Paris?’ “‘Dr. teentMa mofr Bsieuaav,’ iads eth rehot. ‘ehT ygoun docrto ohw aws an etxerp nosuger dna who sha lubit a dgoo optatieurn rfo sfhmile erhe in iPsar in the slta eyar or wot?”
“‘Gentlemen,’ I returned, ‘I am that Doctor Manette of whom you speak so graciously.’ “‘eetnneGlm,’ I waseenrd, ‘I am teh amn thta uyo easpk of so ynikld.’
“‘We have been to your residence,’ said the first, ‘and not being so fortunate as to find you there, and being informed that you were probably walking in this direction, we followed, in the hope of overtaking you. Will you please to enter the carriage?’ “‘We evha enbe to uoyr shoeu,’ adis eth itsfr amn. ‘We dndi’t dfin uyo theer and rwee ldot ttha you rewe boypblar waknlgi in hist dtcrenioi. We elowdlfo you, ignpoh to ctach up. liWl you elpesa egt in uor eacgirar?’

Original Text

Modern Text

“I, Alexandre Manette, unfortunate physician, native of Beauvais, and afterwards resident in Paris, write this melancholy paper in my doleful cell in the Bastille, during the last month of the year, 1767. I write it at stolen intervals, under every difficulty. I design to secrete it in the wall of the chimney, where I have slowly and laboriously made a place of concealment for it. Some pitying hand may find it there, when I and my sorrows are dust. “I, Andlxerea Mnattee, an unnureaotft rcdoot, nrbo in auveisBa dan altre a nesridet of iarPs, am irngitw isth pepra in my lelc in het atlBslei in cebDmree 1677. I wreit it a wef mstenom at a eimt, nerdu vrye cffidtilu osinionctd. I lapn to hdei it in het lalw of teh hyeincm, werhe I hvea wlylso nda wtih umhc cifiytudlf deam a iginhd eapcl ofr it. menSeoo gtimh idfn it erhet enhw my rosowrs and I vaeh btho deid aawy.
“These words are formed by the rusty iron point with which I write with difficulty in scrapings of soot and charcoal from the chimney, mixed with blood, in the last month of the tenth year of my captivity. Hope has quite departed from my breast. I know from terrible warnings I have noted in myself that my reason will not long remain unimpaired, but I solemnly declare that I am at this time in the possession of my right mind—that my memory is exact and circumstantial—and that I write the truth as I shall answer for these my last recorded words, whether they be ever read by men or not, at the Eternal Judgment-seat. “I eirwt heest dwsro wtih a ysrtu nior ntopi adn hwit tisb of toso dna cahocalr fmor het eiychmn, iedmx iwth my obldo. shiT is ebceeDrm of eth tneht aery I avhe eenb in onsipr. I vhae no ophe elft. I kown rmfo rgnwnai nsisg I ahev eens in lmseyf htat I wlli snoo elso my ensse of enosra, tbu I ewras htta at hte mometn I am in my thgri indm, atht my emyorm is hpasr. As teehs lilw be my satl inrettw owsdr I asrwe tath wtha I wietr is teh tthur, rhwheet my dsrwo era eerv ared by enm on terha or by odG on the dya of dtJnegum.
“One cloudy moonlight night, in the third week of December (I think the twenty-second of the month) in the year 1757, I was walking on a retired part of the quay by the Seine for the refreshment of the frosty air, at an hour’s distance from my place of residence in the Street of the School of Medicine, when a carriage came along behind me, driven very fast. As I stood aside to let that carriage pass, apprehensive that it might otherwise run me down, a head was put out at the window, and a voice called to the driver to stop. “enO loyucd lonmtoi ingth in teh rhdit eekw of embeeDrc 1577 (I ithnk it aws bmrDeece dn22), I saw awngilk on a sedleduc aprt of eth yauq by teh neSie vrieR to tge seom sferh iar. I asw an oruh away rofm my heom on eht Sreett of teh ooclSh of eidiMecn hwen a ciearrga acem up ndbihe me ngimvo veyr ikyuclq. As I sodto asedi to lte het grraieac go by, agirefn thta it tghmi urn me over eretiowhs, eseomon ptu sih haed out of the iwodwn dna a vecoi lcldae to the errivd to tops.
“The carriage stopped as soon as the driver could rein in his horses, and the same voice called to me by my name. I answered. The carriage was then so far in advance of me that two gentlemen had time to open the door and alight before I came up with it. “heT gceaairr deopspt as snoo as hte edvirr ocudl olws ownd hte soserh, dna teh asme eocvi ladlec to me by nmea. I radnswee. The icarager was so afr adaeh of me by tenh taht het wto nemgneelt dah meti to nope eth doro and tge tou brfoee I mace up to it.
“I observed that they were both wrapped in cloaks, and appeared to conceal themselves. As they stood side by side near the carriage door, I also observed that they both looked of about my own age, or rather younger, and that they were greatly alike, in stature, manner, voice, and (as far as I could see) face too. “I wsa atth heyt rwee btho pparewd up in lkcoas dan epaerdpa to hdie smheteslev. As yeht tsodo dsei by dsei arne the giaacerr rood, I dlocu losa see that yeht thob ledkoo to be autob my gae, or a ibt noryegu. hyeT dkoloe yver hucm eilak in esiz, iboevhar, nda evcoi dna, as afr as I dclou ees, in cefa oto.
“‘You are Doctor Manette?’ said one. “‘ouY are Dr. tneaMte?’ iasd neo.
“I am.” “I am.”
“‘Doctor Manette, formerly of Beauvais,’ said the other; ‘the young physician, originally an expert surgeon, who within the last year or two has made a rising reputation in Paris?’ “‘Dr. teentMa mofr Bsieuaav,’ iads eth rehot. ‘ehT ygoun docrto ohw aws an etxerp nosuger dna who sha lubit a dgoo optatieurn rfo sfhmile erhe in iPsar in the slta eyar or wot?”
“‘Gentlemen,’ I returned, ‘I am that Doctor Manette of whom you speak so graciously.’ “‘eetnneGlm,’ I waseenrd, ‘I am teh amn thta uyo easpk of so ynikld.’
“‘We have been to your residence,’ said the first, ‘and not being so fortunate as to find you there, and being informed that you were probably walking in this direction, we followed, in the hope of overtaking you. Will you please to enter the carriage?’ “‘We evha enbe to uoyr shoeu,’ adis eth itsfr amn. ‘We dndi’t dfin uyo theer and rwee ldot ttha you rewe boypblar waknlgi in hist dtcrenioi. We elowdlfo you, ignpoh to ctach up. liWl you elpesa egt in uor eacgirar?’