THOSE were drinking days, and moot1 men drank hard. So very great is the improvement Time has brought about in such habits, that a moderate statement of the quantity of wine and punch which one man would swallow in the course of a night, without any detriment2 to his reputation as a perfect gentleman, would seem, in these days, a ridiculous exaggeration. The learned profession of the law was certainly not behind any other learned profession in its Bacchanalian3 Propensities4; neither was Mr. Stryver, already fast shouldering his way to a large and lucrative5 practice, behind his compeers in this particular, any more than in the drier parts of the legal race.
A favourite at the Old Bailey, and eke6 at the Sessions, Mr. Stryver had begun cautiously to hew7 away the lower staves of the ladder on which he mounted. Sessions and Old Bailey had now to summon their favourite, specially8, to their longing9 arms; and shouldering itself towards the visage of the Lord Chief Justice in the Court of King's Bench, the florid countenance10 of Mr. Stryver might be daily seen, bursting out of the bed of wigs11, like a great sunflower pushing its way at the sun from among a rank garden full of flaring12 companions.
ad once been noted13 at the Bar, that while Mr. Stryver was a glib14 man, and an unscrupulous, and a ready, and a bold, he had not that faculty15 of extracting the essence from a heap of statements, which is among the most striking and necessary of the
advocate's accomplishments16. But a remarkable17 improvement came upon him as to this. The more business he got, the greater his power seemed to grow of getting at its pith and marrow18; and however late at night he sat carousing19 with Sydney Carton, he always had his points at his fingers' ends in the morning.
Sydney Carton, idlest and most unpromising of men, was Stryver's great ally. What the two drank together, between Hilary Term and Michaelmas, might have floated a king's ship. Stryver never had a case in hand, anywhere, but Carton was there, with his hands in his pockets, staring at the ceiling of the court; they went the same Circuit, and even there they prolonged their usual orgies late into the night, and Carton was rumoured20 to be seen at broad day, going home stealthily and unsteadily to his lodgings21, like a dissipated cat. At last, it began to get about, among such as were interested in the matter, that although Sydney Carton would never be a lion, he was an amazingly good jackal, and that he rendered suit and service to Stryver in that humble22 capacity.
`Ten o'clock, sir,' said the man at the tavern23, whom he had charged to wake him--'ten o'clock, sir.'
`What's the matter?'
`Ten o'clock, sir.'
`What do you mean? Ten o'clock at night?'
`Yes, sir. Your honour told me to call you.'
`Oh! I remember. Very well, very well.'
After a few dull efforts to get to sleep again, which the man dexterously24 combated by stirring the fire continuously for five minutes, he got up, tossed his hat on, and walked out. He turned into the Temple, and, having revived himself by twice pacing the pavements of King's Bench-walk and Paper-buildings, turned into the Stryver chambers26.
The Stryver clerk, who never assisted at these conferences, had gone home, and the Stryver principal opened the door. He had his slippers27 on, and a loose bed-gown, and his throat was bare for his greater ease. He had that rather wild, strained, seared marking about the eyes, which may be observed in all free livers of his class, from the portrait of Jeffries downward, and which can be traced, under various disguises of Art, through the portraits of every Drinking Age.
`You are a little late, Memory,' said Stryver.
`About the usual time; it may be a quarter of an hour later.'
They went into a dingy28 room lined with books and littered with papers, where there was a blazing fire. A kettle steamed upon the hob, and in the midst of the wreck29 of papers a table shone, with plenty of wine upon it, and brandy, and rum, and sugar, and lemons.
`You have had your bottle, I perceive, Sydney.'
`Two to-night, I think. I have been dining with the day's client; or seeing him dine--it's all one!'
`That was a rare point, Sydney, that you brought to bear upon the identification. How did you come by it? When did it strike you?'
`I thought he was rather a handsome fellow, and I thought I should have been much the same sort of fellow, if I had had any luck.'
Mr. Stryver laughed till he shook his precocious30 paunch.
`You and your luck, Sydney! Get to work, get to work.' Sullenly31 enough, the jackal loosened his dress, went into an adjoining room, and came back with a large jug32 of cold water, a basin, and a towel or two. Steeping the towels in the water, and partially33 wringing34 them out, he folded them on his head in a manner hideous35 to behold36, sat down at the table, and said, `Now I am ready!'
`Not much boiling down to be done to-night, Memory,' said Mr. Stryver, gaily37, as he looked among his papers.
`How much?'
`Only two sets of them.'
`Give me the worst first.'
`There they are, Sydney. Fire away!'
The lion then composed himself on his back on a sofa on one side of the drinking-table, while the jackal sat at his own Paper bestrewn table proper, on the other side of it, with the bottles and glasses ready to his hand. Both resorted to the drinking-table without stint38, but each in a different way; the lion for the most part reclining with his hands in his waistband, looking at the fire, or occasionally flirting39 with some lighter40 document; the jackal, with knitted brows and intent face, so deep in his task, that his eyes did not even follow the hand he stretched out for his glass--which often groped about, for a minute or more, before it found the glass for his lips. Two or three times, the matter in hand became so knotty41, that the jackal found it imperative42 on him to get up, and steep his towels anew. From these pilgrimages to the jug and basin, he returned with such eccentricities43 of damp
headgear as no words can describe; which were made the more ludicrous by his anxious gravity.
At length the jackal had got together a compact repast for the lion, and proceeded to offer it to him. The lion took it with care and caution, made his selections from it, and his remarks upon it, and the jackal assisted both. When the repast was fully44 discussed, the lion put his hands in his waistband again, and lay down to meditate45. The jackal then invigorated himself with a bumper46 for his throttle47, and a fresh application to his head, and applied48 himself to the collection of a second meal; this was administered to the lion in the same manner, and was not disposed of until the clocks struck three in the morning.
`And now we have done, Sydney, fill a bumper of punch,' said Mr. Stryver.
The jackal removed the towels from his head, which had been steaming again, shook himself, yawned, shivered, and complied.
`You were very sound, Sydney, in the matter of those crown witnesses to-day. Every question told.'
`I always am sound; am I not?'
`I don't gainsay49 it. What has roughen'ed your temper? Put some punch to it and smooth it again.
With a deprecatory grunt50, the jackal again complied.
`The old Sydney Carton of old Shrewsbury School,' said Stryver, nodding his head over him as he reviewed him in the present and the past, `the old seesaw51 Sydney. Up one minute and down the next; now in spirits and now in despondency!'
`Ah!' returned the other, sighing: `yes! The same Sydney, with the same luck. Even then, I did exercises for other boys, and seldom did my own.'
`And why not?' `God knows. It was my way, I suppose.'
He sat, with his hands in his pockets and his legs stretched out before him, looking at the fire.
`Carton,' said his friend, squaring himself at him with a bullying52 air, as if the fire-grate had been the furnace in which sustained endeavour was forged, and the one delicate thing to be done for the old Sydney Carton of old Shrewsbury School was to shoulder him into it, `your way is, and always was, a lame53 way. You summon no energy and purpose. Look at me.
`Oh, botheration!' returned Sydney, with a lighter and more good-humoured laugh, `don't *you be moral!'
`How have I done what I have done?' said Stryver; `how do I do what I do?'
`Partly through paying me to help you, I suppose. But it's not worth your while to apostrophise me, or the air, about it; what you want to do, you do. You were always in the front rank, and I was always behind.'
`I had to get into the front rank; I was not born there, was I?'
`I was not present at the ceremony; but my opinion is you were,' said Carton. At this, he laughed again, and they both laughed.
`Before Shrewsbury, and at Shrewsbury, and ever since Shrewsbury,' pursued Carton, `you have fallen into your rank, and I have fallen into mine. Even when we were fellow students in the Student-Quarter of Paris, picking up French, and French law, and other French crumbs54 that we didn't get much good of, you were always somewhere, and I was always--nowhere.'
`And whose fault was that?'
`Upon my soul, I am not sure that it was not yours. You were always driving and riving and shouldering and pressing, to that restless degree that I had no chance for my life but in rust55 and repose56. It's a gloomy thing, however, to talk about one's Own past, with the day breaking. Turn me in some other direction before I go.'
`Well then! Pledge me to the pretty witness,' said Stryver, holding up his glass. `Are you turned in a pleasant direction?'
Apparently57 not, for he became gloomy again.
`Pretty witness,' he muttered, looking down into his glass. `I have had enough of witnesses to-day and to-night; who's your pretty witness?'
`The picturesque58 doctor's daughter, Miss Manette.'
`She pretty?'
`Is she not?'
`No.'
`Why, man alive, she was the admiration59 of the whole Court!'
`Rot the admiration of the whole Court! Who made the Old Bailey a judge of beauty? She was a golden-haired doll!'
`Do you know, Sydney,' said Mr. Stryver, looking at him with sharp eyes, and slowly drawing a hand across his florid face: `do you know, I rather thought, at the time, that you sympathised with the golden-haired doll, and were quick to see what=happened to the golden-haired doll?'
`Quick to see what happened! If a girl, doll or no doll, swoons within a yard or two of a man's nose, he can see it without a perspective-glass. I pledge you, but I deny the beauty. And now I'll have no more drink; I'll get to bed.'
When his host followed him out on the staircase with a candle, to light him down the stairs, the day was coldly looking in through its grimy windows. When he got out of the house, the air was cold and sad, the dull sky overcast60, the river dark and dim, the whole scene like a lifeless desert. And wreaths of dust were spinning round and round before the morning blast, as if the desert-sand had risen far away, and the first spray of it in its advance had begun to overwhelm the city.
Waste forces within him, and a desert' all around, this man stood still on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the wilderness61 before him, a mirage62 of honourable63 ambition, self-denial, and perseverance64. In the fair city of this vision,
there were airy galleries from which the loves and graces looked upon him, gardens in which the fruits of life hung ripening65, waters of Hope that sparkled in his sight. A moment, and it was gone. Climbing to a high chamber25 in a well of houses, he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglected bed, and its pillow was wet with wasted tears.
Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapable66 of their directed exercise, incapable of his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight67 on him, and resigning him-self to let it cat him away.
那时是纵饮的时代。大部分人喝酒都很厉害。不过时光已大大地改良了这类风气。在目前，若是朴实地陈述那时一个人一个晚上所能喝下的葡萄酒和混合酒的分量，而且说那丝毫无碍于他正人君子的名声，现在的人是会看作一种荒唐可笑的夸张的。在酒神崇拜的癖好方面，法律这种依靠学识的职业肯定不会比其他依靠学识的职业表现逊色。正在横冲直撞，迅速创建规模更大、收入更丰的业务天地的斯特莱佛先生在这方面跟其他方面一样也是不会比法律界的同行逊色的。
斯特莱佛先生在老贝勒和在法院里都颇为受宠。此时他已开始小心却也大步地跨进他已登上的阶梯的下层。现在法庭和老贝勒必须特别张开他们渴望的双臂，召唤他们的宠儿。人们每天都要看到斯特莱佛先生那张红扑扑的脸从一片假发的园圃中冲出，有如一朵巨大的向日葵横冲直撞挤开满园姓紫嫣红的伙伴奔向太阳，向皇家法庭的大法官那张脸扑去。
有一回法院曾经注意到斯特莱佛先生尽管能说会道、肆无忌惮、冲动胆大，却缺少从一大堆陈述中抓住要害的能力，而这却是律师行当所绝不可少的最为触目的才能。不过他在这方面却取得了惊人的进步。他到手的业务越多，他抓住精髓的能力也似乎越强。不管他晚上跟西德尼.卡尔顿一起狂饮烂醉到多晚，一到早上他总能抓住要害，阐述得头头是道。
西德尼.卡尔顿是最懒惰最没出息的人，却是斯特莱佛最好的盟友。他俩从希拉里期到米迦勒节之间在一起灌下的酒可以浮起一艘豪华巨轮。斯特莱佛无论在什么地方打官司，都少不了有卡尔顿在那儿两手放在口袋里，双眼瞪着天花板。即使在他们一起参加巡回审判时也照常喝到深夜。还有谣言说，有人看见卡尔顿大白天醉得像只放纵的猫，歪歪倒倒地溜回寓所去。最后，对此事感到兴趣的人风闻，虽然西德尼.卡尔顿永远成不了狮子，却是一匹管用得惊人的豺狗，他为斯特莱佛办案子，做工作，扮演的就是那个卑贱的角色。
“十点钟了，先生，”酒店的人说，卡尔顿曾要求他在这时叫醒他-一“十点钟了，先生。”
“什么事？”
“十点钟了，先生。”
“你是什么意思，晚上十点钟么？”
“是的，先生。先生吩咐过我叫醒你的。”
“啊，我想起来了，很好，很好。”
他昏昏沉沉，几次还想睡下，酒店的人却很巧妙地对抗了他--不断地拨火，拨了五分钟。卡尔顿站了起来，一甩帽子戴上，走了出去。他转进了法学会大厦，在高等法院人行道与报业大楼之间的路面上转了两圈，让自己清醒之后转进了斯特莱佛的房间。
斯特莱佛那个从来不在这类会晤中服务的职员已经回了家，开门的是斯特莱佛本人。他穿着拖鞋和宽松的睡衣，为了舒服，敞开了胸口，他的眼睛露出种种颇为放纵、劳累、憔悴的迹象，这种迹象在他的阶层里每一个生活放荡的人身上都可以观察到。自杰佛里斯以下诸人的肖像上都有，也可以从每一个纵酒时代的肖像画里透过种种的艺术掩饰观察出来。
“你来晚了一点，”斯特莱佛说。
“跟平时差不多；也许晚了约莫半个小时。”
他们进入了一间邋遢的小屋，屋里有一排排的书籍和四处堆放的文件，壁炉里炉火燃得白亮，壁炉架上水壶冒着热气。在陈年的文件堆里有一张桌子琳琅满目地摆满了葡萄酒、白兰地酒、甜酒、糖和柠檬。
“我看，你已经喝过了，西德尼。”
“今晚已喝了两瓶，我想。我跟白天那当事人吃了晚饭，或者说看着他吃了晚饭--总之是一回事！”
“你拿自己来作证，西德尼，这可是罕见的招数。你是怎么想出这个主意的？灵感从何而来？”
“我觉得他相当漂亮，又想，我若是运气好，也能跟他一样。”
斯特莱佛先生哈哈大笑，笑得他过早出现的大肚子直抖。
“你跟你那运气，西德尼！干活儿吧，干活儿吧。”
豺狗闷闷不乐地松了松衣服，进了隔壁房间，拿进来一大罐冷水，一个盆子和一两块毛巾。他把毛巾浸在水里，绞个半干，裹在头上，那样子有些吓人，然后在桌旁坐下，说，“好，我准备好了！”
“今天晚上没有多少提炼活儿做，资料库，”斯特莱佛先生翻了翻他的文件，高兴地说。
“有多少？”
“只有两份。”
“先给我最费劲的。”
“这儿，西德尼。干吧！”
于是狮子在酒桌一边背靠沙发凝神坐下，豺狗却在酒桌另一边他自己的堆满文件的桌边坐下，酒瓶和酒杯放在手边。两人的手都不断伸向酒桌，毫不吝惜，但是两人的方式却不相同。狮子往往是两手插在腰带里，躺在沙发上，望着炉火，或是偶然翻翻没多大分量的文件；豺狗却攒紧了眉头，一脸专注地干着活儿，伸手拿杯于也不看一看--往往要晃来晃去找上分把钟才摸到酒杯送到唇边。有两三回工作太棘手，豺狗无奈，只好站起身来，重新浸一浸毛巾。他去水罐和脸盆朝圣回来，头上裹着那潮湿的毛巾，形象之怪诞真是难以描述；可他却一脸正经，焦头烂额，那样子十分滑稽可笑。
最后，豺狗终于给狮子准备好了一份结结实实的点心。狮子小心翼翼地接过手来，再从其中挑挑拣拣，发表意见，然后豺狗又来帮忙。这份点心充分消化之后，狮子又把双手塞进腰带，躺了下来，陷入沉思。于是豺狗又灌下-大杯酒，提了提神，润了润喉，再在头上搭一个冷敷，开始准备第二道点心。这道点心也以同样方式给狮子送上，直到钟敲凌晨三点才算消化完毕。
“事办完了，西德尼，来一大杯五味酒吧，”斯特莱佛先生说。
豺狗从头上取下毛巾，那毛巾又已是热气腾腾），摇了摇头，打了个哈欠，又打了个寒噤，再去倒酒。
“从一切情况看来，你在那几个受王室雇用的见证人面前头脑非常管用呢，西德尼。”
“我的头脑一向管用，难道不是么？”
“这话我不反对。可什么东西惹恼了你了？灌点五味酒，把火灭掉。”
豺狗表示抱歉地哼了哼，照办了。
“你又是什鲁斯伯雷学校的那个西德尼.卡尔顿了，”斯特莱佛对他点点头，对他的现在和过去发表起评论来，“还是那个跷跷板西德尼。一时上，一时下；一时兴高采烈，一时垂头丧气！”
“啊，”对方回答，叹了口气，“是的！还是那个西德尼，还是那种命运。就在那时我也替别的同学做作业，自己的作业却很少做。”
“为什么不做？”
“天知道。也许我就是那德行，我猜想。”
他把双手放在口袋里，双脚伸在面前，坐着，望着炉火。
“卡尔顿，”他的朋友说，说时胸膛一挺，做出一副咄咄逼人的姿态，仿佛壁炉是煅造坚毅顽强性格的熔炉，而能为老什鲁斯伯雷学校的老西德尼.卡尔顿服务的唯一妙法便是把他推进熔炉里去。“你那脾气现在吃不开，以前也一直吃不开。你就是鼓不起干劲，没有目标。你看我。”
“啊，真腻味！”西德尼比刚才更淡泊也更和善地笑了笑。“你别装什么正经了！”
“我己经办到的事是怎么办到的？”斯特莱佛说，“是怎么做成的？”
“我看，有一部分是靠花钱请我帮了忙。可你也犯不着拿那来对着我，或是对着空气大呼小叫呀。你要干什么就干什么去。你总是在前排、我总是在后面不就行了。”
“我必须在前排；我不是天生就在前排的，对不对？”
“你的诞生大典我无缘躬逢其盛，不过，我看你倒天生是坐前排的。”卡尔顿说时哈哈大笑。两人都笑了。
“在什鲁斯伯雷学校之前，在什鲁斯伯雷学校之后，从什鲁斯伯雷学校到如今，”卡尔顿说下去，“你就一直在你那一排，我也一直在我这一排。就连在巴黎的学生区，同学一起唠几句法国话，学点法国法律，捡点并不太实惠的法国破烂，你也总是显山露水，我也总是隐姓埋名。”
“那该怪谁呀？”
“我以灵魂发誓，不能肯定说不该怪你。你永远在推推搡搡、吵吵嚷嚷地挤来挤去，一刻也不停，我这一辈子除了生锈闲散还能有什么机会？不过，在天快亮的时候去谈自己的过去只会令人扫兴。还有别的事就开口，否则我要告辞了。”
“那么，跟我一起为漂亮的证人干一杯吧，”斯特莱佛说，举起酒杯。“你现在心情好
了些吧？”
显然并非如此，因为他又阴沉了下来。
“漂亮的证人，”他喃喃地说，低头望着酒杯。“我今天和今晚见到的证人够多的了。你说的漂亮的证人是谁？”
“画儿上美人一样的医生的女儿，曼内特小姐。”
“她漂亮么？”
“不漂亮么？”
“不。”
“我的天呐，满法庭的人都崇拜她呢！”
“让满法庭的人的崇拜见鬼去！是谁让老贝勒变作了选美评判员的？她是个金色头发的布娃娃！”
“你知道不，西德尼，”斯特莱佛目光灼灼地望着他，一只手慢慢抹过涨红了的脸。“你知道不？那时我倒以为你很同情那金发布娃娃呢！那金发布娃娃一出问题，你马上就注意到了。”
“马上注意到出了问题！不管布娃娃不布娃娃，一个姑娘在一个男子汉鼻子面前一两码的地方晕了过去，他是用不着望远镜就能看到的。我可以跟你干杯，但不承认什么漂亮不漂亮。现在我不想再喝酒了，我要睡觉了。”
他的主人秉烛送他来到台阶上、照着他走下去时，白日已从肮脏的窗户上冷冷地望了进来。卡尔顿来到了屋外，屋外的空气寒冷而凄凉，天空阴云爱逮，河水幽黯模糊，整个场景像一片没有生命的荒漠。晨风吹得一圈圈尘埃旋卷翻滚，仿佛荒漠的黄沙已在远处冲天而起，其先驱已开始袭击城市，要把它埋掉。
内心有种种废弃的力量，周围是一片荒漠，这个人跨下一步沉寂的台阶，却站定了。瞬息之间他在眼前的荒野里看到了一座由荣耀的壮志、自我克制以及坚毅顽强组成的海市蜃楼。在那美丽的幻影城市里有虚无缥缈的长廊，长廊里爱之神和美之神遥望着他；有悬满了成熟的生命之果的花园；有在他眼中闪着粼粼波光的希望之湖。可这一切转瞬之间却都消失了。他在层层叠叠的屋宇之巅爬到了一间高处的居室，衣服也不脱便扑倒在一张没有收拾过的床上，枕头上空流的眼泪点点斑斑，还是潮的。
太阳凄凉地、忧伤地升了起来，照在一个极可悲的人身上。那是个很有才华、感情深厚的人，却无法施展自己的才能，用那才华和情感为自己获取幸福。他明知道它的危害，却听之任之，让自己消磨憔悴。
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