In “The Man of the Crowd,” dramatic irony is present in the narrator’s lack of awareness that he is behaving strangely. He is fascinated by the bizarre behavior of the old man, but the old man is more similar to himself than he realizes. The narrator seems unaware that, to an outside observer, both of their behavior would appear equally strange.
He describes the old man’s behavior somewhat humorously in the following passage:
A second turn brought us into a square, brilliantly lighted, and overflowing with life. The old manner of the stranger re-appeared. His chin fell upon his breast, his eyes rolled wildly from under his knit brows, in every direction, upon those who hemmed him in. He urged his way steadily and perseveringly. I was surprised, however, to find, upon his having made the circuit of the square, that he turned and retraced his steps. Still more was I astonished to see him repeat the same walk several times—once nearly detecting me as he came round with a sudden movement.
Here, the narrator expresses his astonishment and amusement at the old man’s behavior, describing his eyes as rolling “wildly from under knit brows” as he regards the crowd of people. The narrator, however, has been doing much the same thing from the very start of the story, staring at the city crowds and obsessing over their clothes and behavior. The narrator is incredulous that the old man is running around London all night in pursuit of crowds, but he doesn’t stop to consider that perhaps it’s equally strange that he himself is running around London all night in pursuit of the old man—something that readers have certainly recognized themselves.
