“With a purpose and intention in it, I was saying,” resumed Snitchey, “that commands respect. Life a farce, Doctor Jeddler? With law in it?”
The Doctor laughed, and looked at Alfred.
“Granted, if you please, that war is foolish,” said Snitchey. “There we agree. For example. Here’s a smiling country,” pointing it out with his fork, “once overrun by soldiers—trespassers every man of ’em—and laid waste by fire and sword. He, he, he! The idea of any man exposing himself, voluntarily, to fire and sword! Stupid, wasteful, positively ridiculous; you laugh at your fellow-creatures, you know, when you think of it! But take this smiling country as it stands. Think of the laws appertaining to real property; to the bequest and devise of real property; to the mortgage and redemption of real property; to leasehold, freehold, and copyhold estate; think,” said Mr. Snitchey, with such great emotion that he actually smacked his lips, “of the complicated laws relating to title and proof of title, with all the contradictory precedents and numerous acts of parliament connected with them; think of the infinite number of ingenious and interminable chancery suits, to which this pleasant prospect may give rise;—and acknowledge, Doctor Jeddler, that there is a green spot in the scheme about us! I believe,” said Mr. Snitchey, looking at his partner, “that I speak for Self and Craggs?”
Mr. Craggs having signified assent, Mr. Snitchey, somewhat freshened by his recent eloquence, observed that he would take a little more beef, and another cup of tea.
“I don’t stand up for life in general,” he added, rubbing his hands and chuckling, “it’s full of folly; full of something worse. Professions of trust, and confidence, and unselfishness, and all that. Bah, bah, bah! We see what they’re worth. But you mustn’t laugh at life; you’ve got a game to play; a very serious game indeed! Everybody’s playing against you, you know; and you’re playing against them. Oh! it’s a very interesting thing. There are deep moves upon the board. You must only laugh, Doctor Jeddler, when you win; and then not much. He, he, he! And then not much,” repeated Snitchey, rolling his head and winking his eye; as if he would have added, ‘you may do this instead!’
“Well, Alfred!” cried the Doctor, “what do you say now?”
“I say, Sir,” replied Alfred, “that the greatest favor you could do me, and yourself too I am inclined to think, would be to try sometimes to forget this battle-field, and others like it, in that broader battle-field of Life, on which the sun looks every day.”
“Really, I’m afraid that wouldn’t soften his opinions, Mr. Alfred,” said Snitchey. “The combatants are very eager and very bitter in that same battle of Life. There’s a great deal of cutting and slashing, and firing into people’s heads from behind; terrible treading down, and trampling on; it’s rather a bad business.”
“I believe, Mr. Snitchey,” said Alfred, “there are quiet victories and struggles, great sacrifices of self, and noble acts of heroism, in it—even in many of its apparent lightnesses and contradictions—not the less difficult to achieve, because they have no earthly chronicle or audience; done every day in nooks and corners, and in little households, and in men’s and women’s hearts—any one of which might reconcile the sternest man to such a world, and fill him with belief and hope in it, though two-fourths of its people were at war, and another fourth at law; and that’s a bold word.”
Both the sisters listened keenly.