Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War

by Finley Peter Dunne

  "'Now look here,' says Aloysius, 'this thing has gone far enough. 'Tisan outrage that this here man shud come here f'r to insult th' head ivth' fam'ly.' 'Th' head iv what fam'ly?' says Morgan Dooley, jumpin' upas hot as fire. 'I'm th' head iv th' fam'ly,' he says, 'be right ivhisthry.' 'Ye're an ol' cow,' says me uncle Mike. 'Th' back iv me handan' th' sowl iv me fut to all iv ye,' he says. 'I quit ye,' he says.'Ye're all livin' here undher assumed names'; an' he wint out, followedbe Morgan Dooley with a chair in each hand.

  "Well, they wasn't two Dooleys in th' hall'd speak whin th' meetin'broke up; an' th' Lord knows, but I don't to this day, who's th' head ivth' Dooley fam'ly. All I know is that I had wan th' nex' mornin'."

  ON A FAMOUS WEDDING.

  "Ye see, Jawn," he said "'twas this way: The Jook iv Marlburrow is ayoung lad an' poor. Ye can't think of a jook bein' poor, but 'tis a factthat they'se many a wan iv thim that's carryin' th' banner at thisminyit. Hinnissy, if he had his rights, is Jook iv Munster; an' ye knowwhat he's got. The Jook iv Marlburrow, whin he come out iv th' academywhere they had him, he hadn't a cint to his name. Ne'er a wan.

  "They ain't manny jobs f'r a young jook. Th' thrade is limited; an' thishere la-ad wint round night an' day lookin' f'r a sign, 'Wanted, a youngjook, r-ready an' willin' to do light family jookin',' an' no sign didhe see. He was in a bad way; f'r the la-ad's father was dead, th' ol'jook. He was a fine bucko. He had a divorce fr'm his wife, an' marridanother; an', whin he died, she marrid somewan else an' took theroly-boly with her. This was ha-ard on th' lad.

  "But he come iv a noble race, an' wan that had reed burruds whin theirbetthers had snowballs. Did ye iver read histhry, Jawn? Ye ought to.'Tis betther thin th' Polis Gazette, an' near as thrue. Well, Jawn, thishere young man come fr'm a gr-eat gin'ral, a fine-lookin' la-ad that hadmanny a mash in his day, an' niver lost money be wan iv thim. Ye'll findall about him in Casey's 'Histhry iv English Misrule in Ireland: Th'Story iv a Crime.' 'Tis good readin'.

  "Th' la-ad's father marrid a rich woman. So did his uncle. So ye see hewas a natural bor-rn fi-nanceer. An' he begun to luk around him f'r whatth' pa-apers calls a 'financee.'

  "He didn't have far to go. I dinnaw how he done it, whether th'Ganderbilks asked him 'r he asked th' Ganderbilks. Annyhow, 'twasarranged. 'Twas horse an' horse between thim. Th' Ganderbilks had money,an' he was a jook. They was wan divorce on each side. So they importedhim over, what they call assisted immygration. He didn't come undherth' head iv skilled workman. They must've classed him as a domesticservant. Th' first thing he done was to get himsilf arristed. A man beth' name iv Sweeney,--there are some good Sweeneys, though it's a name Idon't like on account iv wan iv thim stealin' me fa-ather'sgrin'stone,--a man be th' name iv Sweeney, a polisman, r-run him in f'rdisordherly conduct. They got him out with a pull. Thin he sint f'rlawyers an' f'r his financee's father, an' they settled down to talkbusiness. 'Well,' says Ganderbilk, 'how much d'ye want?' he says. 'I'llgive ye a millyon.' 'Goowan,' says th' jook, 'I cud get that muchmarryin' somewan I knew.' 'Thin how much d'ye want?' says Ganderbilk.'Well,' says th' jook, th' castle has to be put in repair. Th' plumbin'is all gone to th' divvle, an' they'll have to be a new catch-basin putin,' he says. 'Thin they'se calciminin' an' paper-hangin',--well, callit tin millyons.' 'But what do I get out iv it?' says Ganderbilk. 'Haveye a ticket to th' church to see me marrid?' says th' jook. 'No,' sayshis pappa-in-law. 'Well, here's a couple,' says th' jook. 'Bring wan ivye'er frinds with ye.' So Ganderbilk he coughed.

  "They say th' jook was that poor he had to have his coat made out iv whatwas left over fr'm his pants, they do so. But he was at th' churchbright an' early; an' Ganderbilk he was there, too, standin' out on th'steps in th' cold, combin' his whiskers--he wears a pair ivsluggers--with his fingers. Afther awhile his daughter, the jook'sfinancee, come along; an', seein' the jook, says she, 'Pappa,' she says,'inthrojooce me to ye'er frind.' 'Jook,' says Ganderbilk, 'shake handswith me daughther. She's your's,' he says. An' so they were marrid.

  "Well, Jawn," said Mr. Dooley, becoming serious, "'tis a dhroll wurruld,an' I suppose we've got to take th' jooks an' th' Ganderbilks with ther-rest. I'm goin' to a weddin' mesilf nex' week. Th' banns has beencalled between little Dalia Hogan an' big Tom Moran. They've beenengaged f'r three year, her wurrkin' in a box facthry an' him doin'overtime at th' blast. They've money enough to start, an' it'll not costol' ma-an Hogan a cint. But, whin he spoke about it las' night, he criedas if his heart'd break."

  ON A QUARREL BETWEEN ENGLAND AND GERMANY.

  Mr. McKenna was aware that a gentle feud had existed between Mr. Dooleyand Mr. Schwartzmeister, the German saloon-keeper down Archey Road, forsome years. It was based upon racial differences, but had been accentedwhen Mr. Schwartzmeister put in a pool table. Of course there was nooutburst. When the two met on the street, Mr. Dooley saluted hisneighbor cordially, in these terms: "Good-nobben, Hair Schwartzmeister,an' vas magst too yet, me brave bucko!" To which Mr. Schwartzmeisterinvariably retorted: "Py chapers, Tooley, where you haf been all dertime, py chapers?" But this was mere etiquette. In the publicity oftheir own taverns they entertained no great regard for each other. Mr.Schwartzmeister said a friend of his had been poisoned by Mr. Dooley'sbeer, and Mr. Dooley confessed that he would rather go to a harness-shopfor whiskey than to Mr. Schwartzmeister's. Consequently, Mr. McKennawas amazed to learn that Mr. Schwartzmeister had been entertained by thephilosopher, and that they had paraded Archey Road arm-in-arm at a latehour.

  "Tubby sure he was," said Mr. Dooley. "Tubby sure he was. Right whereye're standin' at this moment, me dhrinkin' beer an' him callin' f'r hotIrish. 'Make it hot,' he says. 'Make it hot, me frind; an' we'll make ithot f'r th' British between us,' says Schwartzmeister.

  "It come about this way: Ye see Willum Joyce come in, an' says he,'We've got thim.' 'Sure,' says I. 'We've the comityman, haven't we?''Th' Dutch is with us,' he says. 'I mane the Germans is our frinds.''Ye're goin' too far there,' says I. 'Stuckart was again Reed las'spring.' 'No, no,' says Willum Joyce, he says. 'Th' Germans is up inar-rms again th' Sassenach,' he says. 'Mind ye,' he says, 'mind ye,' hesays, ''tis our jooty to be frindly with th' Germans,' he says. 'I'mnow on me way f'r to organize a camp iv me Dutch frinds down be th'slough,' he says. An' off he goes.

  "'Twas not long afther whin I heerd a man singin' 'Th' Wearin' iv th'Green' down th' sthreet, an' in come Schwartzmeister. 'Faugh a ballagh,'says he, meanin' to be polite. 'Lieb vaterland,' says I. An' we had adhrink together.

  "'Vell,' says he (ye know th' murdhrin' way he has iv speakin'), 'herewe are,' he says, 'frinds at las'.' 'Thrue f'r ye,' says I. 'Tooley,' hesays, f'r he calls me that, 'we're wan to-night, alretty,' he says. 'Weare that,' says I. 'But, glory be, who iver thought th' Irish'd live tosee th' day whin they'd be freed be th' Dutch? Schwartz, me lieberfrind,' I says, 'here's a health to th' imp'ror, hock,' says I.'Slanthu,' says he; an' we had wan.

  "''Twud be a great combination,' says I, 'We'd carry th' wa-ard be th'biggest majority iver heerd iv,' I says. 'We wud so,' says he. 'I'd bealdherman.' 'Afther me,' says I. ''Tis my turn first,' I says. 'I don'tknow about that,' says he. 'Now,' says I, 'look here, Schwartzmeister,'I says. 'This here arrangement between Germany an' Ireland has got to bebrought down to th' Sixth Wa-ard,' I says. 'Do ye f'rgive th' way wedone ye in th' beer rites?' I says. 'I do,' says he. 'They was befure metime.' 'Well,' says I, 'are ye sure ye can get over th' whalin' ye gotwhin th' Sarsfield Fife an' Dhrum Corpse met th' Frederick Willum PicnicBand?' I says. 'I do,' says he. 'An' ye have no har-rd feelin' about th'way th' bridges has been give out?' 'Not a thrace,' says he. 'Well,'says I, 'Schwartz,' I says, 'they'se wan thing more,' I says. 'We'reboth pathrites,' I says. 'We have a common cause,' I says. 'Ye're aDutchman, an' I'm iv' th' other sort,' I says. 'But we're both again th'Sassenach,' I says. 'An' in th' inthrests iv th' freedom iv Ireland,' Isays, 'I f'rgive ye th' pool table.'

  "Well, sir, Jawn, he wept like a child. 'Tooley,' he says, 'we'll marchside be side,' he says. 'Both iv us in th' front rank,' he says.'Aldher
man Tooley an' Aldherman Schwartzmeister, to free Ireland,' hesays. 'But where does Germany come in?' he says. 'Germany!' says I,'Germany! Well, we'll take care iv Germany, all right. We'll let Germansinto th' prim'ries,' I says. An' there an' thin we formed th'Sarsfield-an'-Gatty camp. Gatty is a German frind iv Schwartzmeister. Weshook dice to see which name'd come first. Ireland won. They was mydice.

  "I learned Schwartzmeister th' Shan-van-Voght before we was through; an'I've got th' German naytional chune be heart,--'Ich vice nit wauss allusbay doitan'. What'll ye have to drink, Jawn?"

  And, as Mr. McKenna went out, he heard his friend muttering: "Freed beth' Dutch! Freed be the Dutch! An' we niver give thim so much as adillygate."

  ON ORATORY IN POLITICS.

  "I mind th' first time Willum J. O'Brien r-run f'r office, th'Raypublicans an' th' Indypindants an' th' Socialists an' th'Prohybitionist (he's dead now, his name was Larkin) nommynated a youngman be th' name iv Dorgan that was in th' law business in HalstedSthreet, near Cologne, to r-run again' him. Smith O'Brien Dorgan was hisname, an' he was wan iv th' most iloquint young la-ads that iver made aspeakin' thrumpet iv his face. He cud holler like th' impire iv abase-ball game; an', whin he delivered th' sintimints iv his hear-rt,ye'd think he was thryin' to confide thim to a man on top iv a highbuildin'. He was prisidint iv th' lithry club at th' church; an' FatherKelly tol' me that, th' day afther he won th' debate on th' pen an' th'soord in favor iv th' pen, they had to hire a carpenter to mend th'windows, they'd sagged so. They called him th' boy or-rator iv Healey'sslough.

  "He planned th' campaign himsilf. 'I'll not re-sort,' says he, 'to th'ordin'ry methods,' he says. 'Th' thing to do,' he says, 'is to prisintth' issues iv th' day to th' voters,' he says. 'I'll burn up ivryprecin't in th' ward with me iloquince,' he says. An' he bought a longblack coat, an' wint out to spread th' light.

  "He talked ivrywhere. Th' people jammed Finucane's Hall, an' he tol'thim th' time had come f'r th' masses to r-rise. 'Raymimber,' says he,'th' idees iv Novimb'r,' he says. 'Raymimber Demosthens an' Cicero an'Oak Park,' he says. 'Raymimber th' thraditions iv ye'er fathers, ivWashin'ton an' Jefferson an' Andhrew Jackson an' John L. Sullivan,' hesays. 'Ye shall not, Billy O'Brien,' he says, 'crucify th' voters iv th'Sixth Ward on th' double cross,' he says. He spoke to a meetin' inDeerin' Sthreet in th' same wurads. He had th' sthreet-car stopped whilehe coughed up ree-marks about th' Constitution, until th' bar-rn bosssint down an' threatened to discharge Mike Dwyer that was dhrivin' wanhundherd an' eight in thim days, though thransferred to Wintworth Avnoolater on. He made speeches to polismin in th' squadroom an' to goodla-ads hoistin' mud out iv th' dhraw at th' red bridge. People'd besettin' quite in th' back room playin' forty-fives whin Smith O'BrienDorgan'd burst in, an' addhress thim on th' issues iv th' day.

  "Now all this time Bill O'Brien was campaignin' in his own way. He nivermed wan speech. No wan knew whether he was f'r a tariff or again wan, orwhether he sthud be Jefferson or was knockin' him, or whether he had th'inthrests iv th' toilin' masses at hear-rt or whether he wint to mass atall, at all. But he got th' superintindint iv th' rollin'-mills withhim; an' he put three or four good faml'ies to wurruk in th' gas-house,where he knew th' main guy, an' he made reg'lar calls on th' bar-rn bossiv th' sthreet-ca-ars. He wint to th' picnics, an' hired th' orchesthryf'r th' dances, an' voted himsilf th' most pop'lar man at th' churchfair at an expinse iv at laste five hundherd dollars. No wan that comenear him wanted f'r money. He had headquarthers in ivry saloon fr'm wanend iv th' ward to th' other. All th' pa-apers printed his pitcher, an'sthud by him as th' frihd iv th' poor.

  "Well, people liked to hear Dorgan at first, but afther a few monthsthey got onaisy. He had a way iv breakin' into festive gatherin's thatwas enough to thry a saint. He delayed wan prize fight two hours,encouragin' th' voters prisint to stand be their principles, while th'principles sat shiverin' in their cor-rners until th' polis r-run himout. It got so that men'd bound into alleys whin he come up th' sthreet.People in th' liquor business rayfused to let him come into theirplaces. His fam'ly et in th' coal-shed f'r fear iv his speeches atsupper. He wint on talkin', and Willum J. O'Brien wint on handin' outth' dough that he got fr'm th' gas company an' con-ciliatin' th' masses;an', whin iliction day come, th' judges an' clerks was all f'r O'Brien,an' Dorgan didn't get votes enough to wad a gun. He sat up near allnight in his long coat, makin' speeches to himsilf; but tord mornin' hecome over to my place where O'Brien sat with his la-ads. 'Well,' saysO'Brien, 'how does it suit ye?' he says. 'It's sthrange,' says Dorgan.'Not sthrange at all,' says Willum J. O'Brien. 'Whin ye've been inpolitics as long as I have, ye'll know,' he says, 'that th' roly-boly isth' gr-reatest or-rator on earth,' he says. 'Th' American nation in th'Sixth Ward is a fine people,' he says. 'They love th' eagle,' he says,'on th' back iv a dollar,' he says. 'Well,' says Dorgan, 'I can'tundherstand it,' he says. 'I med as manny as three thousan' speeches,'he says. 'Well,' says Willum J. O'Brien, 'that was my majority,' hesays. 'Have a dhrink,' he says."

  ON CHRISTMAS GIFTS.

  The approach of Christmas is heralded in Archey Road by many of thesigns that are known to the less civilized and more prosperous parts ofthe city. The people look poorer, colder, and more hopeful than at othertimes. The bakeries assume an old country appearance of gayety. Thesaloons are well filled. Also, if you have your eyes about you, you maycatch a glimpse, now and then, through a frosted window-pane of astunted Christmas tree, laden slenderly with glass balls and ropes ofred popcorn, the work of painful hands after the childher are abed. Mr.Dooley knew Christmas was coming by the calendar, the expiration of hisquarterly license, and Mr. Hennessy coming in with a doll in his pocketand a rocking-chair under his arm.

  "Prisints?" said the philosopher.

  "Yis," said Mr. Hennessy. "I had to do it. I med up me mind this yearthat I wudden't buy anny Chris'mas prisints or take anny. I can'tafford it. Times has been fearful ha-ard, an' a look iv pain comes overth' ol' woman's face whin I hold out fifty cints fr'm me salary onSaturdah night. I give it out that I didn't want annything, but they'seso much scurryin' ar-round an' hidin' things whin I go in that I knowthey've got something f'r me. I cudden't stand it no longer, so I wintdown town to-night, down be Shekel an' Whooper's place, an' bought thesethings. This is a fine doll f'r th' money."

  "It is," said Mr. Dooley, taking the doll and examining it with the eyeof an art critic. "It closes its eyes,--yis, an', bedad, it cries if yepunch it. They're makin' these things more like human bein's ivry year.An' does it say pap-pah an' mam-mah, I dinnaw?"

  "No," said Mr. Hennessy, "th' pap-pah an' mam-mah dolls costs too much."

  "Well," continued Mr. Dooley, "we can't have ivrything we want in thiswurruld. If I had me way, I'd buy goold watches an' chains f'r ivrybodyin th' r-road, an' a few iv th' good Germans. I feel that gin'rous. But'tis no use. Ye can't give what ye want. Ivry little boy ixpects a ponyat Chris'mas, an' ivry little girl a chain an' locket; an' ivry manthinks he's sure goin' to get th' goold-headed cane he's longed f'rsince he come over. But they all fin'lly land on rockin'-horses an'dolls, an' suspindhers that r-run pink flowers into their shirts an'tattoo thim in summer. An' they conceal their grief Chris'mas mornin'an' thry to look pleasant with murdher in their hearts.

  "Some wan has always give me a Chris'mas prisint, though no wan has annyr-right to. But no wan iver give me annything I cud wear or ate ordhrink or smoke or curl me hair with. I've had flasks iv whisky giveme,--me that have lashin's iv whisky at me elbow day an' night; an',whin I opined thim, blue an' yellow flames come out an' some iv th'stuff r-run over on th' flure, an' set fire to th' buildin'. I smoke th'best five-cint see-gar that money can buy; yet, whin a good frind ivmine wants to make me a prisint f'r Christmas, he goes to a harness shopan' buys a box iv see-gars with excelsior fillin's an' burlap wrappers,an', if I smoked wan an' lived, I'd be arristed f'r arson. I got a pairiv suspinders wanst fr'm a lady,--niver mind her name,--an' I wurrukedhard that day; an' th' decorations moved back into me, an' I had to takethim out with pumice
stone. I didn't lose th' taste iv th' paint f'rweeks an' weeks.

  "Wan year I wanted a watch more thin annything in th' wurruld. I talkedwatches to ivry wan that I thought had designs on me. I made it a pintto ask me frinds what time iv night it was, an' thin say, 'Dear me, Iought to get a watch if I cud affoord it.' I used to tout people down toth' jooler's shop, an' stand be th' window with a hungry look in th'eyes iv me, as much as to say, 'If I don't get a watch, I'll perish.' Italked watches an' thought watches an' dhreamed watches. Father Kellyrebuked me f'r bein' late f'r mass. 'How can I get there befure th'gospil, whin I don't know what time it is?' says I. 'Why don't ye luk atye'er watch?' he says. 'I haven't none,' says I. Did he give me a watch?Faith, he did not. He sint me a box iv soap that made me smell like acoon goin' to a ball in a State Sthreet ca-ar. I got a necktie fr'm wanman; an', if I wore it to a meetin' iv th' Young Hebrews' Char'tableSociety, they'd've thrun me out. That man wanted me to be kilt. Anotherla-ad sint me a silk handkerchief that broke on me poor nose. Th'nearest I got to a watch was a hair chain that unravelled, an' made melook as if I'd been curryin' a Shetland pony. I niver got what I wanted,an I niver expect to. No wan does."