Characters
- Mary Barton — The eponymous character, a very beautiful girl.
- Mrs Mary Barton — Mary's mother, who dies early on.
- John Barton — Mary's father, a millworker, active member in trade unions.
- George Wilson — John Barton's best friend, a worker at Harry Carson's mill.
- Jane Wilson — George Wilson's wife, short-tempered.
- Jem Wilson — Son of George and Jane, an engineer and inventor who has loved Mary from his childhood.
- Mr Henry Carson — Wealthy owner of a mill in Manchester.
- Harry Carson — Son of Henry Carson, attracted to Mary.
- Alice Wilson — George Wilson's sister, a pious old washerwoman, herbalist, sick-nurse.
- Margaret Jennings — Neighbour of Alice, blind, a sometime singer, a friend to Mary.
- Job Legh — Margaret's grandfather, a self-taught naturalist.
- Ben Sturgis — An old sailor, who looks after Mary during her stay in Liverpool.
- Will Wilson — Alice's nephew (Jem's cousin), whom she raised after the death of his parents. A sailor, he falls in love with Margaret.
- Esther (last name unknown) — Sister of Mrs Mary Barton, she is a fallen woman and on the periphery for most of the story.
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Famous quotes containing the word characters:
“For our vanity is such that we hold our own characters immutable, and we are slow to acknowledge that they have changed, even for the better.”
—E.M. (Edward Morgan)
“The Nature of Familiar Letters, written, as it were, to the Moment, while the Heart is agitated by Hopes and Fears, on Events undecided, must plead an Excuse for the Bulk of a Collection of this Kind. Mere Facts and Characters might be comprised in a much smaller Compass: But, would they be equally interesting?”
—Samuel Richardson (1689–1761)
“Of all the characters I have known, perhaps Walden wears best, and best preserves its purity. Many men have been likened to it, but few deserve that honor. Though the woodchoppers have laid bare first this shore and then that, and the Irish have built their sties by it, and the railroad has infringed on its border, and the ice-men have skimmed it once, it is itself unchanged, the same water which my youthful eyes fell on; all the change is in me.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)