you want any?” to Craggs.
“Lean, and well done,” replied that gentleman.
Having executed these orders, and moderately supplied the Doctor (he seemed to know that nobody else wanted anything to eat), he lingered as near the Firm as he decently could, watching, with an austere eye, their disposition of the viands, and but once relaxing the severe expression of his face. This was on the occasion of Mr. Craggs, whose teeth were not of the best, partially choking, when he cried out with great animation, “I thought he was gone!”
“Now Alfred,” said the Doctor, “for a word or two of business, while we are yet at breakfast.”
“While we are yet at breakfast,” said Snitchey and Craggs, who seemed to have no present idea of leaving off.
Although Alfred had not been breakfasting, and seemed to have quite enough business on his hands as it was, he respectfully answered:
“If you please, Sir.”
“If anything could be serious,” the Doctor began, “in such a – ”
“Farce as this, Sir,” hinted Alfred.
“In such a farce as this,” observed the Doctor, “it might be this recurrence, on the eve of separation, of a double birth-day, which is connected with many associations pleasant to us four, and with the recollection of a long and amicable intercourse. That’s not to the purpose.”
“Ah! yes, yes, Doctor Jeddler,” said the young man. “It is to the purpose. Much to the purpose, as my heart bears witness this morning; and as yours does too, I know, if you would let it speak. I leave your house to-day; I cease to be your ward to-day; we part with tender relations stretching far behind us, that never can be exactly renewed, and with others dawning yet before us,” he looked down at Marion beside him, “fraught with such considerations as I must not trust myself to speak of now. Come, come!” he added, rallying his spirits and the Doctor at once, “there’s a serious grain in this large foolish dust-heap, Doctor. Let us allow to-day, that there is One.”
“To-day!” cried the Doctor. “Hear him! Ha, ha, ha! Of all days in the foolish year. Why on this day, the great battle was fought on this ground. On this ground where we now sit, where I saw my two girls dance this morning, where the fruit has just been gathered for our eating from these trees, the roots of which are struck in Men, not earth, – so many lives were lost, that within my recollection, generations afterwards, a churchyard full of bones, and dust of bones, and chips of cloven skulls, has been dug up from underneath our feet here. Yet not a hundred people in that battle, knew for what they fought, or why; not a hundred of the inconsiderate rejoicers in the victory, why they rejoiced. Not half a hundred people were the better, for the gain or loss. Not half-a-dozen men agree to this hour on the cause or merits; and nobody, in short, ever knew anything distinct about it, but the mourners of the slain. Serious, too!” said the Doctor, laughing. “Such a system!”
“But all this seems to me,” said Alfred, “to be very serious.”
“Serious!” cried the Doctor. “If you allowed such things to be serious, you must go mad, or die, or climb up to the top of a mountain, and turn hermit.”
“Besides – so long ago,” said Alfred.
“Long ago!” returned the Doctor. “Do you know what the world has been doing, ever since? Do you know what else it has been doing? I don’t!”
“It has gone to law a little,” observed Mr. Snitchey, stirring his tea.
“Although the way out has been always made too easy,” said his partner.
“And you’ll excuse my saying, Doctor,” pursued Mr. Snitchey, “having been already put a thousand times in possession of my opinion, in the course of our discussions, that, in its having gone to law, and in its legal system altogether, I do observe a serious side – now, really, a something tangible, and with a purpose and intention in it – ”
Clemency Newcome made an angular tumble against the table, occasioning a sounding clatter among the cups and saucers.
“Heyday! what’s the matter there?” exclaimed the Doctor.
“It’s this evil-inclined blue bag,” said Clemency, “always tripping up somebody!”
“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
