Mr. DOOLEY SAYS
BY THE AUTHOR OF "MR. DOOLEY IN PEACE AND IN WAR,"
"MR. DOOLEY IN THE HEARTS OF HIS COUNTRYMEN", ETC.
NEW YORK, CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
CONTENTS
PAGE
DIVORCE 1
GLORY 14
WOMAN SUFFRAGE 25
THE BACHELOR TAX 40
THE RISING OF THE SUBJECT RACES 50
PANICS 67
OCEAN TRAVEL 78
WORK 89
DRUGS 100
A BROKEN FRIENDSHIP 106
THE ARMY CANTEEN 110
THINGS SPIRITUAL 123
BOOKS 134
THE TARIFF 144
THE BIG FINE 158
EXPERT TESTIMONY 168
THE CALL OF THE WILD 180
THE JAPANESE SCARE 193
THE HAGUE CONFERENCE 204
TURKISH POLITICS 214
VACATIONS 227
Mr. DOOLEY SAYS
DIVORCE
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I see they've been holdin' a Divoorce
Congress."
"What's that?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Ye wudden't know," said Mr. Dooley. "Divoorce is th' on'y luxury
supplied be th' law that we don't injye in Ar-rchey Road. Up here whin a
marrid couple get to th' pint where 'tis impossible f'r thim to go on
livin' together they go on livin' together. They feel that way some
mornin' in ivry month, but th' next day finds thim still glarin' at each
other over th' ham an' eggs. No wife iver laves her husband while he has
th' breath iv life in him, an' anny gintleman that took a thrip to Reno
in ordher to saw off th' housekeepin' expinses on a rash successor wud
find throuble ready f'r him whin he come back to Ar-rchey Road. No,
sir, whin our people grab hands at th' altar, they're hooked up f'river.
There's on'y wan decree iv divoorce that th' neighbors will recognize,
an' that's th' wan that entitles ye to ride just behind th' pall
bearers. That's why I'm a batch. 'Tis th' fine skylark iv a timprary
husband I'd make, bringin' home a new wife ivry Foorth iv July an'
dischargin' th' old wan without a charackter. But th' customs iv th'
neighbors are agin it.
"But 'tis diff'rent with others, Hinnissy. Down be Mitchigan Avnoo
marredge is no more bindin' thin a dhream. A short marrid life an' an
onhappy wan is their motto. Off with th' old love an' on with th' new
an' off with that. 'Till death us do part,' says th' preacher. 'Or th'
jury,' whispers th' blushin' bride.
"Th' Divoorce Congress, Hinnissy, that I'm tellin' ye about was
assembled to make th' divoorce laws iv all th' States th' same. It's a
tur-rble scandal as it is now. A man shakes his wife in wan State on'y
to be grabbed be her an' led home th' minyit he crosses th' border.
There's no safety f'r anny wan. In some places it's almost impossible
f'r a man to get rid iv his fam'ly onless he has a good raison. There's
no regularity at all about it. In Kentucky baldness is grounds f'r
divoorce; in Ohio th' inclemency iv th' weather. In Illinye a woman can
be freed fr'm th' gallin' bonds iv mathrimony because her husband wears
Congress gaiters; in Wisconsin th' old man can get his maiden name back
because his wife tells fortunes in th' taycup.
"In Nebrasky th' shackles ar-re busted because father forgot to wipe his
boots; in New York because mother knows a Judge in South Dakota. Ye can
be divoorced f'r annything if ye know where to lodge th' complaint.
Among th' grounds ar-re snorin', deefness, because wan iv th' parties
dhrinks an' th' other doesn't, because wan don't dhrink an' th' other
does, because they both dhrink, because th' wife is addicted to sick
headaches, because he asked her what she did with that last $10 he give
her, because he knows some wan else, because she injyes th' society iv
th' young, because he f'rgot to wind th' clock. A husband can get a
divoorce because he has more money thin he had; a wife because he has
less. Ye can always get a divoorce f'r what Hogan calls incompatibility
iv temper. That's whin husband an' wife ar-re both cross at th' same
time. Ye'd call it a tiff in ye'er fam'ly, Hinnissy.
"But, mind ye, none iv these raisons go in anny two States. A man that
wants to be properly divoorced will have to start out an' do a tour iv
our gr-reat Republic, an' be th' time he's thurly released he may want
to do it all over agin with th' second choice iv his wild, glad heart.
"It wud be a grand thing if it cud be straightened out. Th' laws ought
to be th' same ivrywhere. In anny part iv this fair land iv ours it shud
be th' right iv anny man to get a divoorce, with alimony, simply be
goin' befure a Justice iv th' Peace an' makin' an affydavit that th'
lady's face had grown too bleak f'r his taste. Be Hivens, I'd go
farther. Rather than have people endure this sarvichood I'd let anny
man escape be jumpin' th' conthract. All he'd have to do if I was
r-runnin' this Governmint wud be to put some clothes in th' grip, write
a note to his wife that afther thinkin' it over f'r forty years he had
made up his mind that his warm nature was not suited to marredge with
th' mother iv so manny iv his childher, an' go out to return no more.
"I don't know much about marrid life, except what ye tell me an' what I
r-read in th' pa-apers. But it must be sad. All over this land onhappily
mated couples ar-re sufferin' almost as much as if they had a sliver in
their thumb or a slight headache. Th' sorrows iv these people ar-re
beyond belief. I say, Hinnissy, it is th' jooty iv th' law to marcifully
release thim.
"Ye take th' case iv me frind fr'm Mud Center that I was readin' about
th' other day. There was a martyr f'r ye. Poor fellow! Me eyes filled
with tears thinkin' about him. Whin a young man he marrid. He was a
fireman in thim days, an' th' objict iv his etarnal affection was th'
daughter iv th' most popylar saloon keeper in town. A gr-reat socyal
gulf opened between thim. He had fine prospects iv ivinchooly bein'
promoted to two-fifty a day, but she was heiress to a cellar full iv
Monongahela rye an' a pool table, an' her parents objicted, because iv
th' diffrence in their positions. But love such as his is not to be
denied. Th' bold suitor won. Together they eloped an' were marrid.
"F'r a short time all wint well. They lived together happily f'r twinty
years an' raised wan iv th' popylous fam'lies iv people who expect to be
supported in their old days. Th' impechuse lover, spurred on be th'
desire to make good with his queen, slugged, cheated, an' wurruked his
way to th' head iv th' railroad. He was no longer Greasy Bill, th' Oil
Can, but Hinnery Aitch Bliggens, th' Prince iv Industhree. All th'
diff'rent kinds iv money he iver heerd iv rolled into him, large money
an' small, other people's money, money he'd labored f'r an' money he'd
wished f'r. Whin he set in his office countin' it he often left a call
f'r six o'clock f'r fear he might be dhreamin' an' not get to th'
roundhouse on time.
"But, bein' an American citizen, he soon felt as sure iv himsilf as
though he'd got it all in th' Probate Coort, an' th' arly Spring saw him
on a private car speedin' to New York, th' home iv Mirth. He was
received with open ar-rms be ivry wan in that gr-reat city that knew the
combynation iv a safe. He was taken f'r yacht rides be his fellow Kings
iv Fi-nance. He was th' principal guest iv honor at a modest but
tasteful dinner, where there was a large artificyal lake iv champagne
into which th' comp'ny cud dive. In th' on'y part iv New York ye iver
read about--ar-re there no churches or homes in New York, but on'y
hotels, night resthrants, an' poolrooms?--in th' on'y part iv New York
ye read about he cud be seen anny night sittin' where th' lights cud
fall on his bald but youthful head.
"An' how was it all this time in dear old Mud Center? It is painful to
say that th' lady to whom our frind was tied f'r life had not kept pace
with him. She had taught him to r-read, but he had gone on an' taken
what Hogan calls th' postgrajate coorse. Women get all their book
larnin' befure marredge, men afther. She'd been pretty active about th'
childher while he was pickin' up more iddycation in th' way iv business
thin she'd iver dhream iv knowin'. She had th' latest news about th'
throuble in th' Methodist Church, but he had a private wire into his
office.
"A life spint in nourishin' th' young, Hinnissy, while fine to read
about, isn't anny kind iv a beauty restorer, an' I've got to tell ye
that th' lady prob'bly looked diff'rent fr'm th' gazelle he use to
whistle three times f'r whin he wint by on Number Iliven. It's no aisy
thing to rock th' cradle with wan hand an' ondylate th' hair with
another. Be th' time he was gettin' into th' upper classes in New York
she was slowin' down aven f'r Mud Center. Their tastes was decidedly
dissimilar, says th' pa-aper. Time was whin he carrid th' wash pitcher
down to th' corner f'r a quart iv malt, while she dandled th' baby an'
fried th' round steak at th' same time. That day was past. She hadn't
got to th' pint where she cud dhrink champagne an' keep it out iv her
nose. Th' passin' years had impaired all possible foundations f'r a new
crop iv hair. Sometimes conversation lagged.
"Mud Center is a long way fr'm th' Casino. Th' last successful
exthravaganza that th' lady had seen was a lecture be Jawn B. Gough. She
got her Eyetalian opry out iv a music box. What was there f'r this joynt
intelleck an' this household tyrant to talk about? No wondher he pined.
Think iv this Light iv th' Tendherloin bein' compelled to set down ivry
month or two an' chat about a new tooth that Hiven had just sint to a
fam'ly up th' sthreet! Nor was that all. She give him no rest. Time an'
time again she asked him was he comin' home that night. She tortured his
proud spirit be recallin' th' time whin she used to flag him fr'm th'
window iv th' room where Papa had locked her in. She aven wint so far
as to dhraw on him th' last cow'rdly weapon iv brutal wives--their
tears. One time she thravelled to New York an' wan iv his frinds seen
her. Oh, it was crool, crool. Hinnissy, tell me, wud ye condim this
gr-reat man to such a slavery just because he'd made a rash promise whin
he didn't have a cent in th' wurruld? Th' law said no. Whin th' Gr-reat
Fi-nanceer cud stand it no longer he called upon th' Judge to sthrike
off th' chains an' make him a free man. He got a divoorce.
"I dare ye to come down to my house an' say thim things," said Mr.
Hennessy.
"Oh, I know ye don't agree with me," said Mr. Dooley. "Nayether does th'
parish priest. He's got it into his head that whin a man's marrid he's
marrid, an' that's all there is to it. He puts his hand in th' grab-bag
an' pulls out a blank an' he don't get his money back.
"'Ill-mated couples?' says he. 'Ill-mated couples? What ar-re ye talkin'
about? Ar-re there anny other kinds? Ar-re there anny two people in th'
wurruld that ar-re perfectly mated?' he says. 'Was there iver a
frindship that was annything more thin a kind iv suspension bridge
between quarrels?' he says. 'In ivry branch iv life,' says he, 'we leap
fr'm scrap to scrap,' he says. 'I'm wan iv th' best-timpered men in th'
wurruld, am I not? ('Ye are not,' says I.) I'm wan iv th' kindest iv
mortals,' he says, 'but put me in th' same house with Saint Jerome,' he
says, 'an' there'd be at laste wan day in th' month whin I'd answer his
last wurrd be slammin' th' dure behind me,' he says. 'Man is nachrally a
fightin' an quarrelin' animal with his wife. Th' soft answer don't
always turn away wrath. Sometimes it makes it worse,' he says. 'Th'
throuble about divoorce is it always lets out iv th' bad bargain th' wan
that made it bad. If I owned a half in a payin' business with ye, I'd
niver let th' sun go down on a quarrel,' he says. 'But if ye had a bad
mouth I'd go into coort an' wriggle out iv th' partnership because ye'ar
a cantankerous old villain that no wan cud get on with,' he says. 'If
people knew they cudden't get away fr'm each other they'd settle down to
life, just as I detarmined to like coal smoke whin I found th'
collection wasn't big enough to put a new chimbley in th' parish house.
I've acchally got to like it,' he says. 'There ain't anny condition iv
human life that's not endurable if ye make up ye'er mind that ye've got
to endure it,' he says. 'Th' throuble with the rich,' he says, 'is this,
that whin a rich man has a perfectly nachral scrap with his beloved over
breakfast, she stays at home an' does nawthin' but think about it, an'
he goes out an' does nawthin but think about it, an' that afthernoon
they're in their lawyers' office,' he says. 'But whin a poor gintleman
an' a poor lady fall out, the poor lady puts all her anger into rubbin'
th' zinc off th' wash-boord an' th' poor gintleman aises his be
murdhrin' a slag pile with a shovel, an' be th' time night comes
ar-round he says to himself: Well, I've got to go home annyhow, an'
it's no use I shud be onhappy because I'm misjudged, an' he puts a
pound iv candy into his coat pocket an' goes home an' finds her
standin' at th' dure with a white apron on an' some new ruching ar-round
her neck,' he says.
"An' there ye ar-re. Two opinions."
"I see on'y wan," said Mr. Hennessy. "What do ye raaly think?"
"I think," said Mr. Dooley, "if people wanted to be divoorced I'd let
thim, but I'd give th' parents into th' custody iv th' childher. They'd
larn thim to behave."
GLORY
"Hogan has been in here this afthernoon, an' I've heerd more scandal
talked thin I iver thought was in the wurrld."
"Hogan had betther keep quiet," said Mr. Hennessy. "If he goes
circulatin' anny stories about me I'll--"
"Ye needn't worry," said Mr. Dooley. "We didn't condiscend to talk about
annywan iv ye'er infeeryor station. If ye want to be th' subjick iv our
scand'lous discoorse ye'd betther go out an' make a repytation. No, sir,
our talk was entirely about th' gr-reat an' illusthrees an' it ran all
th' way fr'm Julius Cayzar to Ulysses Grant.
"Dear, oh dear, but they were th' bad lot. Thank th' Lord nobody knows
about me. Thank th' Lord I had th' good sinse to retire f'rm pollyticks
whin me repytation had spread as far as Halsted Sthreet. If I'd let it
go a block farther I'd've been sorry f'r it th' rest iv me life an' some
years afther me death.
"I wanted to be famous in thim days, whin I was young an' foolish. 'Twas
th' dhream iv me life to have people say as I wint by: 'There goes
Dooley, th' gr-reatest statesman iv his age,' an' have thim name babies,
sthreets, schools, canal boats, an' five-cent seegars afther me, an'
whin I died to have it put in th' books that 'at this critical peeryod
in th' history of America there was need iv a man who combined strenth
iv charackter with love iv counthry. Such a man was found in Martin
Dooley, a prom'nent retail liquor dealer in Ar-rchey Road.'
"That's what I wanted, an' I'm glad I didn't get me wish. If I had, 'tis
little attintion to me charackter that th' books iv what Hogan calls
bi-ography wud pay, but a good deal to me debts. Though they mintioned
th' fact that I resked death f'r me adopted fatherland, they'd make th'
more intherestin' story about th' time I almost met it be fallin' down
stairs while runnin' away fr'm a polisman. F'r wan page they'd print
about me love iv counthry, they'd print fifty about me love iv dhrink.
"Th' things thim gr-reat men done wud give thim a place in Byrnes's
book. If Julius Caysar was alive to-day he'd be doin' a lockstep down in
Joliet. He was a corner loafer in his youth an' a robber in his old age.
He busted into churches, fooled ar-round with other men's wives, curled
his hair with a poker an' smelled iv perfumery like a Saturday night
car. An' his wife was a suspicyous charackter an' he turned her away.
"Napolyon Bonypart, impror iv th' Fr-rinch, was far too gay aven f'r
thim friv'lous people, an' had fits. His first wife was no betther than
she shud be, an' his second wife didn't care f'r him. Willum Shakespeare
is well known as an author of plays that no wan can play, but he was
betther known as a two-handed dhrinker, a bad actor, an' a thief. His
wife was a common scold an' led him th' life he desarved. They niver
leave th' ladies out iv these stories iv th' gr-reat. A woman that
marries a janius has a fine chance iv her false hair becomin' more
immortal thin his gr-reatest deed. It don't make anny difference if all
she knew about her marital hero was that he was a consistent feeder, a
sleepy husband, an' indulgent to his childher an' sometimes to himsilf,
an' that she had to darn his socks. Nearly all th' gr-reat men had
something th' matther with their wives. I always thought Mrs. Wash'nton,
who was th' wife iv th' father iv our counthry, though childless
hersilf, was about right. She looks good in th' pitchers, with a shawl
ar-round her neck an' a frilled night-cap on her head. But Hogan says
she had a tongue sharper thin George's soord, she insulted all his
frinds, an' she was much older thin him. As f'r George, he was a case. I
wish th' counthry had got itsilf a diff'rent father. A gr-reat moral
rellijous counthry like this desarves a betther parent.
"They were all alike. I think iv Bobby Burns as a man that wrote good
songs, aven if they were in a bar'brous accint, but Hogan thinks iv him
as havin' a load all th' time an' bein' th' scandal iv his parish. I
remimber Andhrew Jackson as th' man that licked th' British at Noo
Orleans be throwin' cotton bales at thim, but Hogan remimbers him as a
man that cudden't spell an' had a wife who smoked a corncob pipe. I
remimber Abraham Lincoln f'r freein' th' slaves, but Hogan remimbers how
he used to cut loose yarns that made th' bartinder shake th' stove
harder thin it needed. I remimber Grant f'r what he done ar-round Shiloh
whin he was young, but Hogan remimbers him f'r what he done arr-ound New
York whin he was old.
"An' so it goes. Whin a lad with nawthin' else to do starts out to write
a bi-ography about a gr-reat man, he don't go to th' war departmint or
th' public library. No, sir, he begins to search th' bureau dhrawers,
old pigeon-holes, th' records iv th' polis coort, an' th' recollections
iv th' hired girl. He likes letters betther thin annything else. He
don't care much f'r th' kind beginning: 'Dear wife, I'm settin' in
front iv th' camp fire wearin' th' flannel chest protector ye made me,
an' dhreamin' iv ye,' but if he can find wan beginnin': 'Little Bright
Eyes: Th' old woman has gone to th' counthry,' he's th' happiest
bi-ographer ye cud see in a month's thravel.
"Hogan had wan iv thim books in here th' other day. 'Twas written by a
frind, so ye can see it wasn't prejudiced wan way or another. 'At this
time,' says the book, 'an ivint happened that was destined to change th'
whole coorse iv our hero's life. Wan day, while in a sthreet car, where
he lay dozin' fr'm dhrink, he awoke to see a beautiful woman thryin' to
find a nickel in a powder puff. Th' brutal conductor towered over her,
an' it was more thin th' Gin'ral cud bear. Risin' to his feet, with an
oath, he pulled th' rope iv th' fare register an' fell off th' car.
"Th' incident made a deep impression on th' Gin'ral. I have no doubt he
often thought iv his beautiful Madonna iv th' throlly, although he
niver said so. But wan night as he staggered out iv th' dinin'-room at
th' German Ambassadure's, who shud he run acrost but th' fair vision iv
th' surface line. She curtsied low an' picked him up, an' there began a
frindship so full iv sorrow an' happiness to both iv thim. He seldom
mintioned her, but wan night he was heard to mutter: 'Her face is like
wan iv Rembrand's saints.' A few historyans contind that what he said
was: 'Her face looks like a remnant sale,' but I cannot believe this.
"They exchanged brilliant letters fr manny years, in fact ontil th'
enchanthress was locked up in an insane asylum. I have not been able to
find anny iv his letters, but her's fell into th' hands iv wan iv his
faithful servants, who presarved an' published thim. (Love an' Letters
iv Gin'ral Dhreadnaught an' Alfaretta Agonized; Stolen, Collected an'
Edited be James Snooper.) * * * Next year was mim'rable f'r his gloryous
victhry at Punkheim, all th' more wondherful because at th' time our
hero was sufferin' fr'm deleeryyum thremens.
"It shows th' fortitude iv th' Gin'ral an' that he was as gr-reat a
liar as I have indicated in th' precedin' pages, that with th' cheers iv
his sojers ringin' in his ears, he cud still write home to his wife:
'Ol' girl--I can't find annything fit to dhrink down here. Can't ye sind
me some cider fr'm th' farm.' * * * In 1865 he was accused iv
embezzlemint, but th' charges niver reached his ears or th' public's
ontil eight years afther his death. * * * In 67' his foster brother,
that he had neglected in Kansas City, slipped on his ballroom flure an'
broke his leg. * * * In '70 his wife died afther torturin' him f'r fifty
years. They were a singularly badly mated couple, with a fam'ly iv
fourteen childher, but he did not live long to enjoy his happiness. F'r
some reason he niver left his house, but passed away within a month, one
of th' gr-reatest men th' cinchry has projooced. For further details iv
th' wrong things he done see th' notes at th' end iv th' volume.' It
seems to me, Hinnissy, that this here thing called bi-ography is a kind
iv an offset f'r histhry. Histhry lies on wan side, an' bi-ography comes
along an' makes it rowl over an' lie on th' other side. Th' historyan
says, go up; th' bi-ographer says, come down among us. I don't believe
ayether iv thim.
"I was talkin' with Father Kelly about it afther Hogan wint out. 'Were
they all so bad, thim men that I've been brought up to think so
gloryous?' says I. 'They were men,' says Father Kelly. 'Ye mustn't
believe all ye hear about thim, no matther who says it,' says he. 'It's
a thrait iv human nature to pull down th' gr-reat an' sthrong. Th' hero
sthruts through histhry with his chin up in th' air, his scipter in his
hand an' his crown on his head. But behind him dances a boot-black
imitatin' his walk an' makin' faces at him. Fame invites a man out iv
his house to be crowned f'r his gloryous deeds, an' sarves him with a
warrant f'r batin' his wife. 'Tis not in th' nature iv things that it
shudden't be so. We'd all perish iv humilyation if th' gr-reat men iv
th' wurruld didn't have nachral low-down thraits. If they don't happen
to possess thim, we make some up f'r thim. We allow no man to tower over
us. Wan way or another we level th' wurruld to our own height. If we
can't reach th' hero's head we cut off his legs. It always makes me feel
aisier about mesilf whin I r-read how bad Julius Cayzar was. An' it
stimylates compytition. If gr-reatness an' goodness were hand in hand
'tis small chance anny iv us wud have iv seem' our pitchers in th'
pa-apers.'
"An' so it is that the battles ye win, th' pitchers ye paint, th' people
ye free, th' childher that disgrace ye, th' false step iv ye'er youth,
all go thundherin' down to immortality together. An' afther all, isn't
it a good thing? Th' on'y bi-ography I care about is th' one Mulligan
th' stone-cutter will chop out f'r me. I like Mulligan's style, f'r he's
no flatthrer, an' he has wan model iv bi-ography that he uses f'r old
an' young, rich an' poor. He merely writes something to th' gin'ral
effect that th' deceased was a wondher, an' lets it go at that."
"Which wud ye rather be, famous or rich?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"I'd like to be famous," said Mr. Dooley, "an' have money enough to buy
off all threatenin' bi-ographers."
WOMAN SUFFRAGE
"I see be th' pa-apers that th' ladies in England have got up in their
might an' demanded a vote."
"A what?" cried Mr. Hennessy.
"A vote," said Mr. Dooley.
"Th' shameless viragoes," said Mr. Hennessy. "What did they do?"
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "an immense concoorse iv forty iv thim
gathered in London an' marched up to th' House iv Commons, or naytional
dormytory, where a loud an' almost universal snore proclaimed that a
debate was ragin' over th' bill to allow English gintlemen to marry
their deceased wife's sisters befure th' autopsy. In th' great hall iv
Rufus some iv th' mightiest male intellecks in Britain slept undher
their hats while an impassioned orator delivered a hem-stitched speech
on th' subject iv th' day to th' attintive knees an' feet iv th'
ministhry. It was into this here assimbly iv th' first gintlemen iv
Europe that ye see on ye'er way to France that th' furyous females
attimpted to enter. Undaunted be th' stairs iv th' building or th' rude
jeers iv th' multichood, they advanced to th' very outside dures iv th'
idifice. There an overwhelmin' force iv three polismen opposed thim.
'What d'ye want, mum?' asked the polls. 'We demand th' suffrage,' says
th' commander iv th' army iv freedom.
"The brutal polis refused to give it to thim an' a desp'rate battle
followed. Th' ladies fought gallantly, hurlin' cries iv 'Brute,'
'Monster,' 'Cheap,' et cethry, at th' constablry. Hat pins were dhrawn.
Wan lady let down her back hair; another, bolder thin th' rest, done a
fit on th' marble stairs; a third, p'raps rendered insane be sufferin'
f'r a vote, sthruck a burly ruffyan with a Japanese fan on th' little
finger iv th' right hand. Thin th' infuryated officers iv th' law
charged on th' champeens iv liberty. A scene iv horror followed.
Polismen seized ladies be th' arms and' led thim down th' stairs;
others were carried out fainting by th' tyrants. In a few minyits all
was over, an' nawthin' but three hundhred hairpins remained to mark th'
scene iv slaughter. Thus, Hinnissy, was another battle f'r freedom
fought an' lost."
"It sarves thim right," said Mr. Hennessy. "They ought to be at home
tindin' th' babies."
"A thrue statement an' a sound argymint that appeals to ivry man. P'raps
they havn't got any babies. A baby is a good substichoot f'r a ballot,
an' th' hand that rocks th' cradle sildom has time f'r anny other
luxuries. But why shud we give thim a vote, says I. What have they done
to injye this impeeryal suffrage that we fought an' bled f'r? Whin me
forefathers were followin' George Wash'nton an' sufferin' all th'
hardships that men endure campin' out in vacation time, what were th'
women doin'? They were back in Matsachoosetts milkin' th' cow, mendin'
socks, followin' th' plow, plantin' corn, keepin' store, shoein' horses,
an' pursooin' th' other frivvlous follies iv th' fair but fickle sect.
Afther th' war our brave fellows come back to Boston an' as a reward f'r
their devotion got a vote apiece, if their wives had kept th' Pilgrim
fathers that stayed at home fr'm foreclosin' th' morgedge on their
property. An' now, be hivens, they want to share with us what we won.
"Why, they wudden't know how to vote. They think it's an aisy job that
anny wan can do, but it ain't. It's a man's wurruk, an' a sthrong man's
with a sthrong stomach. I don't know annything that requires what Hogan
calls th' exercise iv manly vigor more thin votin'. It's th' hardest
wurruk I do in th' year. I get up befure daylight an' thramp over to th'
Timple iv Freedom, which is also th' office iv a livery stable. Wan iv
th' judges has a cold in his head an' closes all th' windows. Another
judge has built a roarin' fire in a round stove an' is cookin' red-hots
on it. Th' room is lit with candles an' karosene lamps, an' is crowded
with pathrites who haven't been to bed. At th' dure are two or three
polismen that maybe ye don't care to meet. Dock O'Leary says he don't
know annything that'll exhaust th' air iv a room so quick as a polisman
in his winter unyform. All th' pathrites an', as th' pa-apers call thim,
th' high-priests iv this here sacred rite, ar-re smokin' th' best
seegars that th' token money iv our counthry can buy.
"In th' pleasant warmth iv th' fire, th' harness on th' walls glows an'
puts out its own peculiar aromy. Th' owner iv th' sanchoo-ary iv Liberty
comes in, shakes up a bottle iv liniment made iv carbolic acid, pours it
into a cup an' goes out. Wan iv th' domestic attindants iv th' guests iv
th' house walks through fr'm makin' th' beds. Afther a while th' chief
judge, who knows me well, because he shaves me three times a week, gives
me a contimchous stare, asks me me name an' a number iv scand'lous
questions about me age.
"I'm timpted to make an angry retort, whin I see th' polisman movin'
nearer, so I take me ballot an' wait me turn in th' booth. They're all
occypied be writhin' freemen, callin' in sthrangled voices f'r somewan
to light th' candle so they'll be sure they ain't votin' th' prohybition
ticket. Th' calico sheets over th' front iv th' booths wave an' ar-re
pushed out like th' curtains iv a Pullman car whin a fat man is
dhressin' inside while th' thrain is goin' r-round a curve. In time a
freeman bursts through, with perspyration poorin' down his nose, hurls
his suffrage at th' judge an' staggers out. I plunge in, sharpen an inch
iv lead pencil be rendin' it with me teeth, mutilate me ballot at th'
top iv th' dimmycratic column, an' run f'r me life.
"Cud a lady do that, I ask ye? No, sir, 'tis no job f'r th' fair. It's
men's wurruk. Molly Donahue wants a vote, but though she cud bound
Kamachatka as aisily as ye cud this precint, she ain't qualified f'r it.
It's meant f'r gr-reat sturdy American pathrites like Mulkowsky th'
Pollacky down th' sthreet. He don't know yet that he ain't votin' f'r
th' King iv Poland. He thinks he's still over there pretindin' to be a
horse instead iv a free American givin' an imytation iv a steam dhredge.
"On th' first Choosday afther th' first Monday in November an' April a
man goes ar-round to his house, wakes him up, leads him down th'
sthreet, an' votes him th' way ye'd wather a horse. He don't mind
inhalin' th' air iv liberty in a livery stable. But if Molly Donahue
wint to vote in a livery stable, th' first thing she'd do wud be to get
a broom, sweep up th' flure, open th' windows, disinfect th' booths,
take th' harness fr'm th' walls, an' hang up a pitcher iv Niagary be
moonlight, chase out th' watchers an' polis, remove th' seegars, make
th' judges get a shave, an' p'raps invalydate th' iliction. It's no job
f'r her, an' I told her so.
"'We demand a vote,' says she. 'All right,' says I, 'take mine. It's
old, but it's trustworthy an' durable. It may look a little th' worse
f'r wear fr'm bein' hurled again a republican majority in this counthry
f'r forty years, but it's all right. Take my vote an' use it as ye
please,' says I, 'an' I'll get an hour or two exthry sleep iliction day
mornin',' says I. 'I've voted so often I'm tired iv it annyhow,' says I.
'But,' says I, 'why shud anny wan so young an' beautiful as ye want to
do annything so foolish as to vote?' says I. 'Ain't we intilligent
enough?' says she. 'Ye'ar too intilligent,' says I. 'But intilligence
don't give ye a vote.'
"'What does, thin,' says she. 'Well,' says I, 'enough iv ye at wan time
wantin' it enough. How many ladies ar-re there in ye'er Woman's Rights
Club?' 'Twinty,' says she. 'Make it three hundher,' says I, 'an' ye'll
be on ye'er way. Ye'er mother doesn't want it, does she? No, nor ye'er
sister Katie? No, nor ye'er cousin, nor ye'er aunt? All that iliction
day means to thim is th' old man goin' off in th' mornin' with a light
step an' fire in his eye, an' comin' home too late at night with a dent
in his hat, news-boys hollerin' exthries with th' news that fifty-four
votes had been cast in th' third precint in th' sivinth ward at 8
o'clock, an' Packy an' Aloysius stealin' bar'ls fr'm th' groceryman f'r
th' bone-fire. If they iver join ye an' make up their minds to vote,
they'll vote. Ye bet they will.'
"'Ye see, 'twas this way votin' come about. In th' beginnin' on'y th'
king had a vote, an' ivrybody else was a Chinyman or an Indyan. Th' king
clapped his crown on his head an' wint down to th' polls, marked a cross
at th' head iv th' column where his name was, an' wint out to cheer th'
returns. Thin th' jooks got sthrong, an' says they: Votin' seems a
healthy exercise an' we'd like to thry it. Give us th' franchise or
we'll do things to ye. An' they got it. Thin it wint down through th'
earls an' th' markises an' th' rest iv th' Dooley fam'ly, till fin'lly
all that was left iv it was flung to th' ign'rant masses like Hinnissy,
because they made a lot iv noise an' threatened to set fire to th'
barns.'
"'An' there ye ar-re. Ye'll niver get it be askin' th' polis f'r it. No
wan iver got his rights fr'm a polisman, an' be th' same token, there
ar-re no rights worth havin' that a polisman can keep ye fr'm gettin'.
Th' ladies iv London ar-re followin' the right coorse, on'y there ain't
enough iv thim. If there were forty thousand iv thim ar-rmed with hat
pins an' prepared to plunge th' same into th' stomachs iv th' inimies iv
female suffrage, an' if, instead iv faintin' in th' ar-rms iv th'
constablry, they charged an' punctured thim an' broke their way into th'
House iv Commons, an' pulled th' wig off the speaker, an' knocked th'
hat over th' eyes iv th' prime ministher it wudden't be long befure some
mimber wud talk in his sleep in their favor. Ye bet! If ye'er suffrage
club was composed iv a hundhred thousand sturdy ladies it wudden't be
long befure Bill O'Brien wud be sindin' ye a box iv chocolate creams f'r
ye'er vote.'
"'Some day ye may get a vote, but befure ye do I'll r-read this in th'
pa-apers: A hundhred thousand armed an' detarmined women invaded th'
capital city to-day demandin' th' right to vote. They chased th' polis
acrost th' Pottymac, mobbed a newspaper that was agin th' bill, an'
tarred an' feathered Sinitor Glue, th' leader iv th' opposition. At 10
o'clock a rumor spread that th' Prisident wud veto th' bill, an'
instantly a huge crowd iv excited females gathered in front of the White
House, hurlin' rocks an' cryin' 'Lynch him!' Th' tumult was on'y quelled
whin th' Prisident's wife appeared on th' balcony an' made a brief
speech. She said she was a mimber iv th' local suffrage club, an' she
felt safe in assuring her sisters that th' bill wud be signed. If
nicissry, she wud sign it hersilf. (Cheers.) Th' Prisident was a little
onruly, but he was frequently that way. Th' marrid ladies in th'
aujeence wud undherstand. He meant nawthin'. It was on'y wan iv his
tantrums. A little moral suasion wud bring him ar-round all right. At
prisint th' Chief Magistrate was in th' kitchen with his daughter
settin' on his head.
"'Th' speech was received with loud cheers, an' th' mob proceeded down
Pinnslyvanya Avnoo. Be noon all enthrances to th' capital were jammed.
Congressmen attimptin' to enter were seized be th' hair iv th' head an'
made to sign a pa-aper promisin' to vote right. Immejately afther th'
prayer th' Hon'rable Clarence Gumdhrop iv Matsachoosetts offered th'
suffrage bill f'r passage. 'Th' motion is out iv ordher,' began th'
Speaker. At this minyit a lady standin' behind th' chair dhrove a
darning needle through his coat tails. 'But,' continued th' Speaker,
reachin' behind him with an agnized ex'pression, 'I will let it go
annyhow.' 'Mr. Speaker, I protest,' began th' Hon'rable Attila Sthrong,
'I protest--' At this a perfeck tornado iv rage broke out in th'
gall'ries. Inkwells, bricks, combs, shoes, smellin' bottles, hand
mirrors, fans, an' powdher puffs were hurled at th' onforchnit mimber.
In the midst iv th' confusion th' wife iv Congressman Sthrong cud be
seen wavin' a par'sol over her head an' callin' out: 'I dare ye to come
home to-night, polthroon.'
"'Whin th' noise partially subsided, th' bold Congressman, his face
livid with emotion, was heard to remark with a sob: 'I was on'y about to
say I second th' motion, deary.' Th' bill was carried without a
dissintin' voice, an' rushed over to th' Sinit. There it was opposed be
Jeff Davis but afther a brief dialogue with th' leader iv th'
suffrageites, he swooned away. Th' Sinit fin'lly insthructed th' clerk
to cast th' unanimous vote f'r th' measure. To-night in th' prisince iv
a vast multichood th' Prisident was led out be his wife. He was
supported, or rather pushed, be two iv his burly daughters. He seemed
much confused, an' his wife had to point out th' place where he was to
sign. With tremblin' fingers he affixed his signature an' was led back.
"'The night passed quietly. Th' sthreets were crowded all avenin' with
good-natured throngs iv ladies, an' in front iv th' dry goods stores,
which were illuminated f'r th' occasion, it was almost impossible to get
through. Iv coorse there were th' usual riochous scenes in th' dhrug
stores, where th' bibulous gathered at th' sody-wather counthers an'
cillybrated th' victory in lemon, vanilla, an' choc'late, some iv thim
keepin' it up till 9 o'clock, or aven later.' 'Whin that comes about,
me child,' says I, 'ye may sheathe ye'er hat pins in ye'er millinary,
f'r ye'll have as much right to vote as th' most ignorant man in th'
ward. But don't ask f'r rights. Take thim. An' don't let anny wan give
thim to ye. A right that is handed to ye f'r nawthin' has somethin' th'
matther with it. It's more than likely it's on'y a wrong turned inside
out,' says I. 'I didn't fight f'r th' rights I'm told I injye, though to
tell ye th' truth I injye me wrongs more; but some wan did. Some time
some fellow was prepared to lay down his life, or betther still, th'
other fellows', f'r th' right to vote.'"
"I believe ye're in favor iv it ye'ersilf," said Mr. Hennessy.
"Faith," said Mr. Dooley, "I'm not wan way or th' other. I don't care.
What diff'rence does it make? I wudden't mind at all havin' a little
soap an' wather, a broom an' a dusther applied to pollyticks. It
wudden't do anny gr-reat harm if a man cudden't be illicted to office
onless he kept his hair combed an' blacked his boots an' shaved his chin
wanst a month. Annyhow, as Hogan says, I care not who casts th' votes
iv me counthry so long as we can hold th' offices. An' there's on'y wan
way to keep the women out iv office, an' that's to give thim a vote."
THE BACHELOR TAX
"This here pa-aper says," said Mr. Hennessy, "that they're goin' to put
a tax on bachelors. That's r-right. Why shudden't there be a tax on
bachelors? There's one on dogs."
"That's r-right," said Mr. Dooley. "An' they're goin' to make it five
dollars a year. Th' dogs pay only two. It's quite a concession to us.
They consider us more thin twice as vallyable, or annyhow more thin
twice as dangerous as dogs. I suppose ye expect next year to see me
throttin' around with a leather collar an' a brass tag on me neck. If me
tax isn't paid th' bachelor wagon'll come over an' th' bachelor
catcher'll lassoo me an' take me to th' pound an' I'll be kept there
three days an' thin, if still unclaimed, I'll be dhrowned onless th'
pound keeper takes a fancy to me. Ye'll niver see it, me boy. No, Sir.
Us bachelors ar-re a sthrong body iv men polytickally, as well as
handsome and brave. If ye thry to tax us we'll fight ye to th' end. If
worst comes to worst we won't pay th' tax. Don't ye think f'r a minyit
that light-footed heroes that have been eludin' onprincipled females all
their lives won't be able to dodge a little thing like a five-dollar
tax. There's no clumsy collector in th' wurruld that cud catch up with a
man iv me age who has avoided the machinations iv th' fair f'r forty
years an' remains unmarrid.
"An' why shud we be taxed? We're th' mainstay iv th' Constitution an'
about all that remains iv liberty. If ye think th' highest jooty iv
citizenship is to raise a fam'ly why don't ye give a vote to th' shad?
Who puts out ye'er fire f'r ye, who supports th' Naytional Governmint be
payin' most iv th' intarnal rivnoo jooties, who maintains th' schools ye
sind ye'er ignorant little childher to, be payin' th' saloon licenses,
who does th' fightin' f'r ye in th' wars but th' bachelors? Th' marrid
men start all th' wars with loose talk whin they're on a spree. But whin
war is declared they begin to think what a tur-rble thing 'twud be if
they niver come home to their fireside an' their wife got marrid again
an' all their grandchildher an' their great-grandchildher an' their
widow an' th' man that marrid her an' his divoorced wife an' their
rilitives, descindants, friends, an' acquaintances wud have to live on
afther father was dead and gone with a large piece iv broken iron in his
stomach or back, as th' case might be, but a pension come fr'm th'
Governmint. So, th' day war is declared ye come over here an' stick a
sthrange-lookin' weepin in me hand an' I close down me shop an' go out
somewhere I niver was befure an' maybe lose me leg defindin' th' hearths
iv me counthry, me that niver had a hearth iv me own to warm me toes by
but th' oil stove in me bedroom. An' that's th' kind iv men ye'd be
wantin' to tax like a pushcart or a cow. Onscrupulous villain!
"Whin ye tax th' bachelors ye tax valor. Whin ye tax th' bachelors ye
tax beauty. Ye've got to admit that we're a much finer lookin' lot iv
fellows thin th' marrid men. That's why we're bachelors. 'Tis with us as
with th' ladies. A lady with an erratic face is sure to be marrid befure
a Dhream iv Beauty. She starts to wurruk right away an' what Hogan calls
th' doctrine iv av'rages is always with thim that starts early an' makes
manny plays. But th' Dhream iv Beauty figures out that she can wait an'
take her pick an' 'tis not ontil she is bumpin' thirty that she wakes up
with a scream to th' peril iv her position an' runs out an' pulls a man
down fr'm th' top iv a bus. Manny a plain but determined young woman
have I seen happily marrid an' doin' th' cookin' f'r a large fam'ly whin
her frind who'd had her pitcher in th' contest f'r th' most beautiful
woman in Brighton Park was settin' behind th' blinds waitin' f'r some
wan to take her buggy ridin'.
"So it is with us. A man with a face that looks as if some wan had
thrown it at him in anger nearly always marries befure he is old enough
to vote. He feels he has to an' he cultivates what Hogan calls th'
graces. How often do ye hear about a fellow that he is very plain but
has a beautiful nature. Ye bet he has. If he hadn't an' didn't always
keep it in th' show-case where all th' wurruld cud see he'd be lynched
be th' Society f'r Municipal Improvement. But 'tis diff'rent with us
comely bachelors. Bein' very beautiful, we can afford to be haughty an'
peevish. It makes us more inthrestin'. We kind iv look thim over with a
gentle but supeeryor eye an' say to oursilves: 'Now, there's a nice,
pretty atthractive girl. I hope she'll marry well.' By an' by whin th'
roses fade fr'm our cheeks an' our eye is dimmed with age we bow to th'
inivitable, run down th' flag iv defiance, an' ar-re yanked into th'
multichood iv happy an' speechless marrid men that look like flashlight
pitchers. Th' best-lookin' iv us niver get marrid at all.
"Yes, Sir, there's no doubt we do a good deal to beautify th' landscape.
Whose pitchers ar-re those ye see in th' advertisemints iv th'
tailorman? There's not a marrid man among thim. They're all bachelors.
What does th' gents' furnishing man hang his finest neckties in th'
front window f'r but to glisten with a livelier iris, as Hogan says, th'
burnished bachelor? See th' lordly bachelor comin' down th' sthreet,
with his shiny plug hat an' his white vest, th' dimon stud that he wint
in debt f'r glistenin' in his shirt front, an' th' patent-leather shoes
on his feet out-shinin' th' noonday sun.
"Thin we see th' marrid man with th' wrinkles in his coat an' his tie
undher his ear an' his chin unshaven. He's walkin' in his gaiters in a
way that shows his socks ar-re mostly darned. I niver wore a pair iv
darned socks since I was a boy. Whin I make holes in me hosiery I throw
thim away. 'Tis a fine idee iv th' ladies that men are onhappy because
they have no wan to darn their socks an' put buttons on their shirts.
Th' truth is that a man is not onhappy because his socks ar-re not
darned but because they ar-re. An' as f'r buttons on his shirt, whin
th' buttons comes off a bachelor's shirt he fires it out iv th' window.
His rule about clothes is thurly scientific. Th' survival iv th' fit,
d'ye mind. Th' others to th' discard. No marrid man dares to wear th'
plumage iv a bachelor. If he did his wife wud suspict him. He lets her
buy his cravats an' his seegars an' 'tis little diff'rence it makes to
him which he smokes.
"'Twud be villanous to tax th' bachelors. Think iv th' moral side iv it.
What's that? Ye needn't grin. I said moral. Yes, Sir. We're th' most
onselfish people in th' wurruld. All th' throubles iv th' neighborhood
ar-re my throubles an' my throubles ar-re me own. If ye shed a tear f'r
anny person but wan ye lose ye'er latch-key, but havin' no wan in
partiklar to sympathize with I'm supposed to sympathize with ivry wan.
On th' conthry if ye have anny griefs ye can't bear ye dump thim on th'
overburdened shoulders iv ye'er wife. But if I have anny griefs I must
bear thim alone. If a bachelor complains iv his throubles people say:
'Oh, he's a gay dog. Sarves him right.' An' if he goes on complainin'
he's liable to be in gr-reat peril. I wudden't dare to tell me woes to
ye'er wife. If I did she'd have a good cry, because she injyes cryin',
an' thin she'd put on her bonnet an' r-run over an' sick th' widow
O'Brien on me.
"Whin a lady begins to wondher if I'm not onhappy in me squalid home
without th' touch iv a woman's hand ayether in th' tidy on th' chair or
in th' inside pocket iv th' coat, I say: 'No, ma'am, I live in gr-reat
luxury surrounded be all that money can buy an' manny things that it
can't or won't. There ar-re Turkish rugs on th' flure an' chandyleers
hang fr'm th' ceilins. There I set at night dhrinkin' absinthe, sherry
wine, port wine, champagne, beer, whisky, rum, claret, kimmel, weiss
beer, cream de mint, curaso, an' binidictine, occas'nally takin' a dhraw
at an opeem pipe an' r-readin' a Fr-rinch novel. Th' touch iv a woman's
hand wudden't help this here abode iv luxury. Wanst, whin I was away,
th' beautiful Swede slave that scrubs out me place iv business broke
into th' palachal boodoor an' in thryin' to set straight th' ile
paintin' iv th' Chicago fire burnin' Ilivator B, broke a piece off a
frame that cost me two dollars iv good money.' If they knew that th'
on'y furniture in me room was a cane-bottomed chair an' a thrunk an'
that there was nawthin' on th' flure but oilcloth an' me clothes, an'
that 'tis so long since me bed was made up that it's now a life-size
plaster cast iv me, I'd be dhragged to th' altar at th' end iv a chain.
"Speakin' as wan iv th' few survivin' bachelors, an old vethran that's
escaped manny a peril an' got out iv manny a difficult position with
honor, I wish to say that fair woman is niver so dangerous as whin she's
sorry f'r ye. Whin th' wurruds 'Poor man' rises to her lips an' th'
nurse light comes into her eyes, I know 'tis time f'r me to take me hat
an' go. An' if th' hat's not handy I go without it.
"I bet ye th' idee iv taxin' bachelors started with th' dear ladies. But
I say to thim: 'Ladies, is not this a petty revenge on ye'er best
frinds? Look on ye'er own husbands an' think what us bachelors have
saved manny iv ye'er sisters fr'm. Besides aren't we th' hope iv th'
future iv th' instichoochion iv mathrimony? If th' onmarrid ladies ar-re
to marry at all, 'tis us, th' bold bachelors, they must look forward to.
We're not bachelors fr'm choice. We're bachelors because we can't make a
choice. Ye all look so lovely to us that we hate to bring th' tears into
th' eyes iv others iv ye be marryin' some iv ye. Considher our
onforchnit position an' be kind. Don't oppress us. We were not meant f'r
slaves. Don't thry to coerce us. Continue to lay f'r us an' hope on. If
ye tax us there's hardly an old bachelor in th' land that won't fling
his five dollars acrost th' counter at th' tax office an' say: 'Hang th'
expense.'"
THE RISING OF THE SUBJECT RACES
"Ye'er frind Simpson was in here awhile ago," said Mr. Dooley, "an' he
was that mad."
"What ailed him?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "it seems he wint into me frind Hip Lung's
laundhry to get his shirt an' it wasn't ready. Followin' what Hogan
calls immemoryal usage, he called Hip Lung such names as he cud remimber
and thried to dhrag him around th' place be his shinin' braid. But
instead iv askin' f'r mercy, as he ought to, Hip Lung swung a flat-iron
on him an' thin ironed out his spine as he galloped up th' stairs. He
come to me f'r advice an' I advised him to see th' American consul.
Who's th' American consul in Chicago now? I don't know. But Hogan, who
was here at th' time, grabs him be th' hand an' says he: 'I
congratulate ye, me boy,' he says. 'Ye have a chance to be wan iv th'
first martyrs iv th' white race in th' gr-reat sthruggle that's comin'
between thim an' th' smoked or tinted races iv th' wurruld,' he says.
'Ye'll be another Jawn Brown's body or Mrs. O'Leary's cow. Go back an'
let th' Chink kill ye an' cinchries hence people will come with wreathes
and ate hard-biled eggs on ye'er grave,' he says.
"But Simpson said he did not care to be a martyr. He said he was a
retail grocer be pro-fissyon an' Hip Lung was a customer iv his, though
he got most iv his vittles fr'm th' taxydermist up th' sthreet an' he
thought he'd go around to-morrah an' concilyate him. So he wint away.