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Fri 21 Apr, 2006 06:40 am
Sidney Carton was a brilliant mind and a wastrel. C. J. Stryver was a "pushing" lawyer, elbowing his way to the front, rising to the top, making a fortune for himself, and a name, as well. But C. J. Stryver wasn't really that bright a lawyer. Before the bar of the King's Bench, he would have been lost without his nominal solicitor, Sidney Carton. I say nominal solicitor, because Stryver actually acted his own soliciter, but naming Carton his solicitor allowed Carton to don his gown and wig, and join Stryver in court.
Because Stryver needed to make sure of his case, and Carton was the means by which he accomplished that end. Carton and Stryver sat up nights, and Stryver fed Carton prodigious quantities of alcohol. Carton reviewed all of Stryver's briefs, and found the line for Stryver to take to undo the prosecution's case, to embarrass the prosecution's witnesses and to secure the release of his client. Carton had been at school with Stryver, but while Stryver pushed and elbowed his way to the front, and climbed to the top, Carton sank down further into dissipation, into alcoholism. Carton was only seen abroad in the day time because Stryver needed him to accompany him to the Old Bailey or to the Sessions, to come to his aid in the event of unexpected developments.
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Stryver and Sidney Carton are fictional characters, but perhaps you've known someone like Carton (and perhaps like Stryver) in your life--someone who was at once brilliant and self-destructive. Someone whose best efforts made someone else seem brilliant, made someone else successful. Any thoughts?
Yes, Setanta. I have known such people. Marking for now.
This is a pattern for many doomed marriages.
He was a fantastic musician and conductor. He also chaired the music dept at a local college, and conducted a symphony orchestra. He drank ALL the time in a chronic way and had five children. He turned out fabulous musicians and professional men, not one of whom cared about him enough to give him support when he most needed it. He told my husband: Bud, you must learn to bow that bass. No bass player is really a virtuosa until he learns to bow. He gave my husband bowing lessons for free, and the one thing that I remember is his instructions about lightly drawing the bow across the strings for the wonderful resonant sound that the wood needed to breathe the deep tones. He lived a long life, but never seem to care that he had been used by those who were far less talented and not nearly as intelligent. This seems to be the fate of many geniuses, Setanta.
I recall a medical school student in college with me, a friend of an old boyfriend. Now, my boyfriend was a smart guy, and I like to think I'm intelligent, but S___ was off the freakin' charts. He had a photographic memory and was just brilliant. Did anything once and it was committed to memory, I assume forever. He never went to class. He just read the books and went to lab (because he had to). He, too, drank like a fish.
I have no idea what happened to him, or even if he's still alive. He was a good guy. I hope he didn't self-destruct, but I can't say it would surprise me.
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