Swearing
Did ye see what th’ prisidint said to th’ throlley man that bumped him?” asked Mr. Dooley.
“I did not,” said Mr. Hennessy. “What was it?”
“I can’t tell ye till I get mad,” said Mr. Dooley. “Lave us go into ixicutive sission. Whisper. That was it. Ha, ha. He give it to him sthraight. A good, honest, American blankety-blank. Rale language like father used to make whin he hit his thumb with th’ hammer. No ‘With ye’er lave’ or ‘By ye’er lave,’ but a dacint ‘Damn ye, sir,’ an’ a little more f’r th’ sake iv imphasis.
“What else wud ye have him do? ‘Twas nayether th’ time nor th’ occasion, as th’ candydate said whin they ast him where he got his money, ’twas nayether th’ time nor th’ occasion f’r wurruds that wud be well rayceived at Chatauqua. A throlley car had pushed him an’ diplomatic relations was suspinded. He was up on top iv a bus, hurryin’ fr’m speech to speech an’ thinkin’ what to say next. ‘Th’ thrusts,’ says he to himsilf, ‘ are heejous monsthers built up be th’ inlightened intherprise iv th’ men that have done so much to advance pro-gress in our beloved counthry,’ he says. ‘On wan hand I wud stamp thim undher fut; on th’ other hand not so fast. What I want more thin th’ bustin’ iv th’ thrusts is to see me fellow counthrymen happy an’ continted. I wudden’t have thim hate th’ thrusts. Th’ haggard face, th’ droopin’ eye, th’ pallid complexion that marks th’ inimy iv thrusts is not to me taste. Lave us be merry about it an’ jovial an’ affectionate. Lave us laugh an’ sing th’ octopus out iv existence. Betther blue but smilin’ lips anny time thin a full coal scuttle an’ a sour heart. As Hogan says, a happy peasanthry is th’ hope iv th’ state. So lave us warble ti-lire-a-lay–‘ Jus’ thin Euclid Aristophanes Madden on th’ quarther deck iv th’ throlley car give a twisht to his brake an’ th’ chief ixicutive iv th’ nation wint up in th’ air with th’ song on his lips. He wint up forty, some say, fifty feet. Sicrety Cortilloo says three hundherd an’ fifty. Annyhow whin he come down he landed nachrally on his feet.
“Now, Hinnissy, no matther what a man may’ve been wan minyit befure he was hit be a throlley car, a minyit afther he’s on’y a man. Th’ throlley car plays no fav’rites. It bounces th’ high an’ th’ low alike. It tears th’ exalted fr’m their throne an’ ilivates th’ lowly. So whin th’ prisidint got back to the earth he wasn’t prisidint anny longer but Tiddy Rosenfelt, 180 pounds iv a man. An’ he done accordin’ly. If it’d been Willum Jennings Bryan, he’d’ve ast th’ throlley engineer was he a mimber iv th’ Union. If he cud show a wurrukin’ card he was entitled to bump anny wan. At worst Willum Jennings Bryan wud’ve written an article about him in th’ Commoner, or if he felt unusually vindicative, maybe he’d sind it to him through th’ mails. Whin Sicrety Cortilloo come to fr’m a dhream that he’d jus’ rayfused a favor to Sinitor Tillman, he hauled out a little note book an’ got ready to take down something that cud be put on th’ thransparencies two years fr’m now–something like–‘No power on earth can stop American business entherprise.’ But nawthin’ that will iver be printed in th’ first reader dhropped fr’m th’ lips iv th’ chief exicutive. With two jumps he was in th’ throlley man’s hair an’ spoke as follows–No, I won’t say it again. But I’ll tell ye this much, a barn-boss that was standin’ by an’ heerd it, said he niver befure regretted his father hadn’t sint him to Harvard.
“We know what Wash’nton said to his gin’rals an’ what Grant said to Lee an’ what Cleveland said to himsilf. They’re in th’ books. But engraved in th’ hearth iv his counthrymen is what Rosenfelt said to th’ throlley man. ‘Twas good because ’twas so nachral. Most iv th’ sayin’s I’ve read in books sounds as though they was made be a patent inkybator. They go with a high hat an’ a white tie. Ye can hear th’ noise iv th’ phonygraft. But this here jim of emotion an’ thought come sthraight fr’m th’ heart an’ wint right to th’ heart. That’s wan reason I think a lot iv us likes Tiddy Rosenfelt that wudden’t iver be suspicted iv votin’ f’r him. Whin he does anny talkin’–which he sometimes does–he talks at th’ man in front iv him. Ye don’t hear him hollerin’ at posterity. Posterity don’t begin to vote till afther th’ polls close. So whin he wished to convey to th’ throlley man th’ sintimints iv his bosom, he done it in wurruds suited to th’ crisis, as Hogan wud say. They do say his remarks singed th’ hair off th’ head iv th’ unforchnit man.
“I don’t believe in profanity, Hinnissy–not as a reg’lar thing. But it has its uses an’ its place. F’r instance, it is issintial to some thrades. No man can be a printer without swearin’. ‘Tis impossible. I mind wanst I wint to a printin’ office where a frind iv mine be th’ name iv Donovan held cases an’ I heerd th’ foreman say: ‘What gintleman is setting A thirty?’ he says. ‘I am,’ says a pale aristocrat with black whiskers who was atin’ tobacco in th’ rear iv th’ room. ‘Thin,’ says th’ foreman, ‘ye blankety-blank blacksmith, get a move on ye. D’ye think this is a annyooal incyclopejee?’ he says. Ivrybody swore at ivrybody else. Th’ little boys runnin’ around with type prattled innocent pro-fanity an’ afther awhile th’ iditor come in an’ he swore more thin annybody else. But ’twas aisy to see he’d not lamed th’ thrade iv printer. He swore with th’ enthusyasm an’ inacc’racy iv an amachoor, though I mus’ say, he had his good pints. I wisht I cud raymimber what it was he called th’ Czar iv Rooshya f’r dyin’ jus’ as th’ pa-aper was goin’ to press. I cud’ve often used it since. But it’s slipped me mind.
“Swearin’ belongs to some thrades,–like printin’, bricklayin’ an’ plumbin’. It is no help at all, at all to tailors, shoemakers, hair-dressers, dintists or authors. A surgeon needs it but a doctor niver. It is a great help in unloadin’ a ship an’ sailor men always swear–th’ cap’n an’ mate whin wurruk is goin’ on an’ th’ men befure th’ mast at meals. Sojers mus’ swear. They’se no way out iv it. It’s as much th’ equipment iv a sojer as catridges. In vigorous spoort it is niciss’ry but niver at checkers or chess an’ sildom at dominoes. Cowboys are compelled to use it. No wan cud rope a cow or cinch a pony without swearin’. A sthrick bringin’ up is th’ same as havin’ a wooden leg on th’ plains. Profanity shud be used sparingly if at all on childher–especially girls–an’ sildom on women, though I’ve knowed an occasional domestic: ‘Damn ye’er eyes’ to wurruk wondhers in reg-latin’ a fam’ly. Women can’t swear. They have th’ feelin’ but not th’ means. Westhern men swear betther thin Eastern men though I mus’ say th’ mos’ lib’ral swearers I iver knew come fr’m Boston.
“But it don’t do to use pro-fanity th’ way ye wud ordin’ry wurruds. No, sir. Ye’ve got to save it up an’ invist it at th’ right time or get nawthin’ fr’m it. It’s betther thin a doctor f’r a stubbed toe but it niver cured a broken leg. It’s a kind iv a first aid to th’ injured. It seems to deaden th’ pain. Women an’ childher cry or faint whin they’re hurt. That’s because they haven’t th’ gift iv swearin’. But as I tell ye, they’se no good wastin’ it. Th’ man that swears at ivrything has nawthin’ to say when rale throubles come. I hate to hear annywan spillin’ out th’ valyable wurruds that he ought to save to be used whin th’ shtove-pipe comes down. Not that it shocks me. I’m a dimmycrat. But I know th’ foolish man is hurtin’ himsilf. Put a little pro-fanity by f’r rainy days, says I. Ye won’t miss it an’ at th’ end iv th’ year whin ye renew ye’er lease ye’ll be surprised to find out how much ye have on hand. But if ye hurl it broadcast, if ivry time ye open ye’er mouth a hot wan lapes out, th’ time will come whin ye’ll want to say something scorchin’ an’ ye’ll have nawthin’ to say that ye haven’t said f’r fun. I’d as soon think iv swearin’ f’r pleasure as iv lindin’ money f’r pleasure. They ain’t too much pro-fanity in th’ wurruld. A good dale iv it has been used up since th’ coal sthrike begun. Th’ govermint ought to presarve it an’ prevint annywan fr’m swearin’ more thin was niciss’ry f’r to support life.
“I niver knew Father Kelly to swear but wanst. ‘Twas a little wan, Hinnissy. Dhropped fr’m th’ lips iv a polisman it wud’ve sounded like a ‘thank ye kindly.’ But, be Hivins, whin I heerd it I thought th’ roof wud fall down on th’ head iv Scanlan that he was thryin’ to show th’ evil iv his ways. Melia Murdher, but it was gran’! They was more varchue in that wan damn thin in a fastin’ prayer. Scanlan wint to wurruk th’ nex’ day an’ he hasn’t tasted a dhrop since.
“But th’ best thing about a little judicyous swearin’ is that it keeps th’ temper. ‘Twas intinded as a compromise between runnin’ away an’ fightin’. Befure it was invinted they was on’y th’ two ways out iv an argymint.”
“But I’ve heerd ye say a man was swearin’ mad,” said Mr. Hennessy.
“He wasn’t fightin’ mad, thin,” said Mr. Dooley.
The War Game
What’s this here war game I’ve been readin’ about?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“It’s a kind iv a blind man’s buff,” said Mr. Dooley. “It’s a thrile iv cunnin’ an’ darin’ between th’ army an’ th’ navy. Be manes iv it we tarn whether th’ inimy cud sneak into Boston afther dark without annywan seein’ thim an’ anchor in Boston common. Ye an’ I know diff’rent, Hinnissy. We know how manny people are in th’ sthreets afther dark. But th’ navy don’t know an’ th’ army don’t know. Their idee is that a German fleet might gum-shoe up th’ harbor in th’ dark iv th’ moon an’ whin people turned out f’r their mornin’ dhram, there wud be th’ Impror Willum atin’ his breakfast iv Hungayrian Goolash an’ noodle soup on th’ steps iv th’ State House iv Matsachoosetts. But it’s a gran’ game. I’d like to play it mesilf. It’s as noisy as forty-fives between Connock men an’ as harmless as a steeryopticon letcher. If war an’ th’ war game was th’ same thing, I’d be an admiral, at laste, be this time with me face gashed an’ seamed be raspberry jam an’ me clothes stained with English breakfast tea.
“Th’ navy chose to be th’ inimy an’ ’twas th’ jooty iv th’ navy to divastate th’ New England coast. On th’ other hand, th’ business iv th’ army was to catch th’ navy at its neefaryous wurruk an’ tag it befure it cud get its fingers crost. To play th’ game well, th’ navy must act as much like an inimy as it can an’ th’ army must pretind to be jus’ as cross at th’ navy as it is whin they are both on the same side. Frindship ceases whin they set in.
“It’s a hard game to follow if ye’re lookin’ on an’ puttin’ up th’ money as I am. I’ve been readin’ about it in th’ pa-apers an’ I can’t make out now whether th’ inimy is lootin’ th’ breweries iv Conneticut or whether th’ definders iv our hearths has blown thim up in th’ harbor iv New London. ‘I have th’ honor to rayport,’ says Admiral Higginson, ‘that I have this day desthroyed all th’ forts on th’ New England coast, put th’ definders to rout with gr-reat slaughter an’ kilt with me own hands Gin’ral McArthur th’ Commander iv th’ lan’ foorces–a brave man but no match f’r ye’ers thruly. His las’ wurruds to me was “Higginson, ye done well!” I rayturned him his soord with th’ wurruds: “Gin’ral, between two brave men there can be no hard feelin’s.” Th’ battle in which me gallant foe met his fate was th’ con-clusion iv wan iv th’ mos’ successful socyal an’ naval campaigns in th’ histhry iv our counthry. I have th’ honor to inform ye that promptly on th’ declaration iv war, I give an afthernoon tea to th’ Duchess iv Marlborough. Th’ forts at Newport attimpted to reply, but was unable to scoor more thin three or four westhren millyonaires an’ soon succumbed to th’ inivitable. I thin moved up th’ Sound an’ fell upon Gin’ral McArthur whin he wasn’t lookin’. Befure he cud load his guns, we poored a perfect blankety-blank hell iv blank catridges on him. He made a spirited reply but t’was useless. We outfought him be nearly fifty thousan’ dollars worth iv powdher. In th’ mist iv th’ flame an’ smoke, I discerned th’ caitiff foe standin’ on top iv a fort directin’ his wav’rin’ foorces. “Hi-spy, Gin’ral McArthur,” says I in claryon tones, an’ th’ battle was over to all intints an’ purposes. I have to ispicially commind Cap’n McWhallop who, findin’ his boat caught between th’ fires an’ th’ inimy, called out: “Lay me down, boys, an’ save th’ ship. I’m full iv marmylade.” Th’ ladies aboord was perfectly delighted with th’ valor an’ hospitality iv our men. To-night we completed our wurruk be givin’ a dinner an’ hop on boord th’ flagship. Among those presint was–‘ an’ so on.
“That’s what th’ gallant Higginson says. But listen to what th’ akelly gallant McArthur says: ‘I have th’ honor to rayport that mesilf an’ me gallant men, but largely if I do say it that shudden’t, mesilf, crushed an’ annihilated th’ inimy’s fleet at high noon to-day. Las’ night at th’ first round iv jacks, or midnight, as civilyans wud say, we rayceived a rayport fr’m our vigylant scouts that th’ inimy were not at Bar Harbor, Pookypsie, Keokuk, Johannesboorg or Council Bluffs. But where were they? That was th’ question. An idee struck me. War is as much a matther iv ingenooty an’ thought as iv fire an’ slaughter. I sint out f’r an avenin’ paper an’ as I suspicted, it announced that th’ craven foe was about two blocks away. At that very moment, th’ sthrains iv th’ “Bloo Danoob” was wafted to me ears an’ me suspicions was confirmed. On such occasions there is no sleep f’r th’ modhren sojer. Napolyon wud’ve gone to bed but slumber niver crost me tired eyelids. ‘Twas six o’clock whin we cashed in an’ each wint to th’ mournful jooties iv th’ day, silently but with a heart full iv courage. At high noon, we fell upon th’ inimy an’ poored out about eighty-five thousan’ dollars worth iv near-slaughter on him. His guns was choked with cotillyon favors an’ he did not reply at wanst, but whin he did, th’ scene was thruly awful. Th’ sky was blackened be th’ smoke iv smokeless powdher an’ th’ air was full iv cotton waste fr’m th’ fell injines iv desthruction. A breeze fr’m shore carried out to me ears th’ wails iv th’ wounded tax payers. At twelve fifteen, I descried th’ bloodthirsty Higginson–an’ a good fellow Caleb is at that–on th’ roof iv his boat. “Hi-spy,” says he. “Hi-spy ye’er gran’mother,” says I. “I’ve had me eye on ye f’r fifteen minyits an’ ye’re a dead man as I can prove be witnesses,” I says. An’ he fell off th’ roof. I was sorry to take his life but war knows no mercy. He was a brave man but foolhardy. He ought niver to’ve gone again’ me. He might’ve licked Cervera but he cudden’t lick me. We captured all th’ men-iv-war, desthroyed most iv th’ cruisers an’ ar-re now usin’ th’ flag-ship f’r a run-about. Th’ counthry is safe, thanks to a vigylant an’ sleepless army. I will go up to New York tomorrah to be measured f’r th’ prisintation soord.”
“There it is, Hinnissy. Who won? I don’t know. I can’t tell at this minyit whether I ought to be undher th’ bed larnin’ German f’r th’ time whin a Prooshyan sojer’ll poke me out with his saber, or down at Finucane’s hall callin’ a meetin’ to thank th’ definders iv th’ fireside. Nobody knows. It’s a quare game, f’r they tell me afther th’ battles has been fought an’ th’ kilt has gone back to holeystonin’ th’ deck an’ th’ smoke fr’m th’ chafin’ dish has cleared away, th’ decision is up to a good figurer at Wash’nton. It depinds on him whether we ar-re a free people or whether we wear th’ yoke iv sarvichood an’ bad German hats f’r all time. He’s th’ officyal scoorer an’ what Higginson thinks was a base hit, he calls a foul an’ what McArthur calls an accipted chanst is an error. Afther th’ gallant lads in blue an’ gold has got through, a wathry-eyed clerk named Perkins H. Something-or-other, sets down an’ figures out th’ victhry. Th’ man behind th’ fountain pen is th’ boy. It’s up to him whether th’ stars an’ sthripes still floats over an onconquered people or whether five pfennigs is th’ price iv a dhrink in New York. He sets on his high stool an’ says he: ‘Five times eight is twinty-nine, subthract three f’r th’ duchess, a quarther to one o’clock an’ eighty miles fr’m Narragansett pier is two-an’-a-half, plus th’ load-wather-line iv th’ saloon companionway, akel to two-fifths iv th’ differentyal tangent. Huroo! Misther Sicrety, ye can go home an’ tell ye’er wife th’ counthry’s safe.’ He has to be a smart man. A good book-keeper, as th’ pote says, is th’ counthry’s on’y safety. He mus’ be careful, too, d’ye mind. Th’ honor iv th’ army an’ the navy is at stake. Wan or th’ other iv thim has been careless.”
“D’ye think a foreign fleet cud capture this counthry?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“Not onless it was op’rated be a throlley,” said Mr. Dooley.
“Supposin’ ye an’ I had throuble, Hinnissy, an’ both iv us was armed with bricks an’ ye was on roller skates an’ I was on th’ top iv a house, how much chanst wud ye have again’ me? Ships is good to fight other ships. That’s all. I’d sooner be behind a bank iv mud thin in th’ finest ship in th’ wurruld. A furrin inimy thryin’ to get up to New York wud be like a blind burglar attimptin’ to walk on th’ top iv a hot-house with all th’ neighbors an’ th’ neighbors’ dogs waitin’ f’r him. Th’ war game is all right. It don’t do anny harm. But it’s like punchin’ th’ bag an’ I’d jus’ as soon thrain a man f’r a fight be larnin’ him to play th’ mandolin, as be insthructin’ him in bag punchin’. It’s a fine game. I don’t know who won, but I know who lost.”
“Who’s that?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“Th’ threeasury,” said Mr. Dooley.
Newspaper Publicity
“Was ye iver in th’ pa-apers?” asked Mr. Dooley.
“Wanst,” said Mr. Hennessy. “But it wasn’t me. It was another Hinnissy. Was you?”
“Manny times,” said Mr. Dooley. “Whin I was prom’nent socyally, ye cud hardly pick up a pa-aper without seein’ me name in it an’ th’ amount iv th’ fine. Ye must lade a very simple life. Th’ newspaper is watchin’ most iv us fr’m th’ cradle to th’ grave, an’ befure an’ afther. Whin I was a la-ad thrippin’ continted over th’ bogs iv Roscommon, ne’er an iditor knew iv me existence, nor I iv his. Whin annything was wrote about a man ’twas put this way: ‘We undhershtand on good authority that M–l–chi H—y, Esquire, is on thrile before Judge G—-n on an accusation iv l–c–ny. But we don’t think it’s true.’ Nowadays th’ larceny is discovered be a newspa-aper. Th’ lead pipe is dug up in ye’er back yard be a rayporther who knew it was there because he helped ye bury it. A man knocks at ye’er dure arly wan mornin’ an’ ye answer in ye’er nighty. ‘In th’ name iv th’ law, I arrist ye,’ says th’ man seizin’ ye be th’ throat. ‘Who ar-re ye?’ ye cry. ‘I’m a rayporther f’r th’ Daily Slooth,’ says he. ‘Phottygrafter, do ye’er jooty!’ Ye’re hauled off in th’ circylation wagon to th’ newspaper office, where a con-fission is ready f’r ye to sign; ye’re thried be a jury iv th’ staff, sintinced be th’ iditor-in-chief an’ at tin o’clock Friday th’ fatal thrap is sprung be th’ fatal thrapper iv th’ fam’ly journal.
“Th’ newspaper does ivrything f’r us. It runs th’ polis foorce an’ th’ banks, commands th’ milishy, conthrols th’ ligislachure, baptizes th’ young, marries th’ foolish, comforts th’ afflicted, afflicts th’ comfortable, buries th’ dead an’ roasts thim aftherward. They ain’t annything it don’t turn its hand to fr’m explaining th’ docthrine iv thransubstantiation to composin’ saleratus biskit. Ye can get anny kind iv information ye want to in ye’er fav’rite newspaper about ye’ersilf or annywan else. What th’ Czar whispered to th’ Imp’ror Willum whin they were alone, how to make a silk hat out iv a wire matthress, how to settle th’ coal sthrike, who to marry, how to get on with ye’er wife whin ye’re married, what to feed th’ babies, what doctor to call whin ye’ve fed thim as directed,–all iv that ye’ll find in th’ pa-apers.
“They used to say a man’s life was a closed book. So it is but it’s an open newspaper. Th’ eye iv th’ press is on ye befure ye begin to take notice. Th’ iditor obsarves th’ stork hoverin’ over th’ roof iv 2978 1/2 B Ar-rchey Road an’ th’ article he writes about it has a wink in it. ‘Son an’ heir arrives f’r th’ Hon’rable Malachi Hinnissy,’ says th’ pa-aper befure ye’ve finished th’ dhrink with th’ doctor. An’ afther that th’ histhry iv th’ offspring’s life is found in th’ press:
“‘It is undhershtud that there is much excitement in th’ Hinnissy fam’ly over namin’ th’ lates’ sign. Misther Hinnissy wishes it called Pathrick McGlue afther an uncle iv his, an’ Mrs. Hinnissy is in favor iv namin’ it Alfonsonita afther a Pullman car she seen wan day. Th’ Avenin Fluff offers a prize iv thirty dollars f’r th’ bes’ name f’r this projeny. Maiden ladies will limit their letters to three hundherd wurruds.’
“‘Above is a snap shot iv young Alfonsonita McGlue Hinnissy, taken on his sicond birthday with his nurse, Miss Angybel Blim, th’ well-known specyal nurse iv th’ Avenin’ Fluff. At th’ time th’ phottygraft was taken, th’ infant was about to bite Miss Blim which accounts f’r th’ agynized exprission on that gifted writer’s face. Th’ Avenin Fluff offers a prize iv four dollars to th’ best answer to th’ question: “What does th’ baby think iv Miss Blim?”‘
“‘Young Alf Hinnissy was siven years ol’ yisterdah. A rayporther iv th’ Fluff sought him out an’ indeavored to intherview him on th’ Nicaragooan Canal, th’ Roomanyan Jews, th’ tahriff an’ th’ thrusts. Th’ comin’ statesman rayfused to be dhrawn on these questions, his answer bein’ a ready, “Go chase ye’ersilf, ye big stiff!” Afther a daylightful convarsation th’ rayporther left, bein’ followed to th’ gate be his janial young host who hit him smartly in th’ back with a brick. He is a chip iv th’ ol’ block.’
“‘Groton, Conn., April 8. Ye’er rayporther was privileged to see th’ oldest son iv th’ Hon’rable Malachi Hinnissy started at this siminary f’r th’ idjacation iv young Englishmen bor-rn in America. Th’ heir iv th’ Hinnissys was enthered at th’ exclusive school thirty years befure he was bor-rn. Owin’ to th’ uncertainty iv his ancesthors he was also enthered at Vassar. Th’ young fellow took a lively intherest in th’ school. Th’ above phottygraft riprisints him mathriculatin’. Th’ figures at th’ foot ar-re Misther an’ Mrs. Hinnissy. Those at th’ head ar-re Profissor Peabody Plantagenet, prisident iv th’ instichoochion an’ Officer Michael H. Rafferty. Young Hinnissy will remain here till he has a good cukkin’ idjacation.’
“‘Exthry Red Speshul Midnight Edition. Mumps! Mumps! Mumps! Th’ heir iv th’ Hinnissy’s sthricken with th’ turr’ble scoorge. Panic on th’ stock exchange. Bereaved father starts f’r th’ plague spot to see his afflicted son. Phottygrafts iv Young Hinnissy at wan, two, three, eight an’ tin. Phottygrafts iv th’ house where his father was born, his mother, his aunt, his uncle, Profissor Plantagenet, Groton School, th’ gov’nor iv Connecticut, Chansy Depoo, statue iv Liberty, Thomas Jefferson, Niagara Falls be moonlight. Diagram iv jaw an’ head showin’ th’ prob’ble coorse iv the Mumpococeus. Intherviews with J. Pierpont Morgan, Terry McGovern, Mary MeLain, Jawn Mitchell, Lyman J. Gage, th’ Prince iv Wales, Sinitor Bivridge, th’ Earl iv Roslyn, an’ Chief Divry on Mumps. We offer a prize iv thirty million dollars in advertisin’ space f’r a cure f’r th’ mumps that will save th’ nation’s pride. Later, it’s croup.’
“An’ so it goes. We march through life an’ behind us marches th’ phottygrafter an’ th’ rayporther. There are no such things as private citizens. No matther how private a man may be, no matther how secretly he steals, some day his pitcher will be in th’ pa-aper along with Mark Hanna, Stamboul 2:01 1/2, Fitzsimmons’ fightin’ face, an’ Douglas, Douglas, Tin dollar shoe. He can’t get away fr’m it. An’ I’ll say this f’r him, he don’t want to. He wants to see what bad th’ neighbors are doin’ an’ he wants thim to see what good he’s doin’. He gets fifty per cint iv his wish; niver more. A man keeps his front window shade up so th’ pa-apers can come along an’ make a pitcher iv him settin’ in his iligant furnished parlor readin’ th’ life iv Dwight L. Moody to his fam’ly. An’ th’ lad with th’ phottygraft happens along at th’ moment whin he is batin’ his wife. If we wasn’t so anxious to see our names among those prisint at th’ ball, we wudden’t get into th’ pa-apers so often as among those that ought to be prisint in th’ dock. A man takes his phottygraft to th’ iditor an’ says he: ‘Me attintion has been called to th’ fact that ye’d like to print this mug iv a prom’nent philanthropist;’ an’ th’ iditor don’t use it till he’s robbed a bank. Ivrybody is inthrested in what ivrybody else is doin’ that’s wrong. That’s what makes th’ newspapers. An’ as this is a dimmycratic counthry where ivrybody was bor-rn akel to ivrybody else, aven if they soon outgrow it, an’ where wan man’s as good as another an’ as bad, all iv us has a good chanst to have his name get in at laste wanst a year.
“Some goes in at Mrs. Rasther’s dinner an’ some as victims iv a throlley car, but ivrybody lands at last. They’ll get ye afther awhile, Hinnissy. They’ll print ye’er pitcher. But on’y wanst. A newspaper is to intertain, not to teach a moral lesson.”
“D’ye think people likes th’ newspapers iv th’ prisint time?” asked Mr. Hennessy.
“D’ye think they’re printed f’r fun?” said Mr. Dooley.
Adventure
“What a life iv advinture I have led, to be sure. I’ve niver been still a minyit since I cud see an’ hear–always on th’ go, performin’ heeroyc actions on land an’ sea. Between th’ ages iv eight an’ fifteen I bet ye I caught more runaway teams thin all th’ park polismen in th’ wurruld. I begun with stoppin’ th’ horses iv a man called Monahan that owned a canal boat an’ askin’ as a reward that he give me a job dhrivin’ th’ mule. But I rose rapidly in th’ wurruld, an’ befure I was fifteen I was dashin’ out nearly ivry hour an’ nailin’ a team iv maddened animals in th’ bullyvard an’ savin’ th’ life iv th’ pet daughther iv a millyonaire. She usully accepted me young hand in marredge in th’ dhrug store. But sometimes whin I needed a top or a kite I took money. I’m ashamed to con-fiss it, but I did. Iv coorse I rayfused th’ first offer iv th’ pluthycrat. Whin he thried to crowd wan millyon dollar on me, I give him a look iv scorn an’ moved away. He was tur-rbly ashamed iv his onmanly action an’ followed me up an’ be sharp schamin’ managed to get two millyons to me in a way that I cuddn’t resint. I think it come in th’ shape iv an advance payment on th’ dowry.
“At fifteen I quit stoppin’ runaway horses as on’y suited to childher. After that I wint in almost entirely f’r knockin’ down arnychists as they was about to shoot. I saved th’ life iv th’ Impror iv Rooshya, an’ he was anxious f’r to have me stay at th’ coort, but people begun to talk about me an’ wan iv th’ rile princesses an’ I left. On my way home I seized an arnychist jus’ as he had raised his pistol again th’ Prince iv Wales, an’ as a reward he freed Ireland on th’ spot. I rayceived an ovation f’r this in Dublin in 1860 or thereabouts, but I disclaimed anny glory, was always willin’ to do annything f’r me counthry, wisht them th’ best iv luck: gintlemen, I can on’y say, I thank ye, I thank ye, I thank ye.
“Me raycint advintures has been more in th’ spoortin’ line. I had to give up futball afther winnin’ victhry f’r me almy matther f’r four successive years be a suparb run aroun’ th’ end. F’r a long time I sailed th’ cup dayfinder ivry year, an’ always won be a sthrategy that no wan but mesilf undherstands. I’ve killed iliphants an’ tigers be th’ hundherd, rescooed people fr’m dhrownin’ be th’ thousan’, climbed up th’ outside iv a burnin’ buildin’ an’ come down with two or three fine-lookin’ ladies in me arms, captured forts, charged armies, knocked out th’ wurruld’s greatest pugilists with a punch, led revolutions, suppressed thim, an’ done it all modestly an’ quietly.
“Iv coorse I won’t say ’twas always th’ spirit iv advinture led me into these gallant acts. If I must tell ye th’ thruth I’ve gin’rally took less intherest in th’ advinture itself thin in th’ reward. I’m always a little hazy about th’ details iv how I saved th’ girl fr’m th’ rapids iv Niagra whin I can’t swim, or how I happened to hit th’ tiger in th’ eye whin I’m so afraid iv firearms, or how I stopped th’ runaway team whin I know that th’ other day whin th’ milkman’s horse broke loose th’ best I cud do was run to th’ edge iv th’ sidewalk an’ wring me hands an’ yell: “Whoa!” But th’ grateful millyonaire is always distinct. I can always hear th’ cheers iv th’ crowd as I come dhrippin’ fr’m th’ wather. Though th’ raison I happened to be ladin’ me rig’mint up th’ hill iv San Joon is not clear to me now, I can plainly see mesilf returnin’ fr’m th’ war, bronzed and weather-beaten, settin’ erect on me horse an’ respondin’ to th’ frantic cheers iv th’ multichood with a slight bow. I always used to lose an arm or part iv an arm, but I’ve larned that isn’t nicess’ry.
“An’ where have all these advintures occurred, d’ye say? Well, some iv th’ most feerocyous iv thim happened in me bedroom, an’ some on th’ front stoop iv th’ house on warm moonlight nights, but most iv thim here in this room in front iv th’ fire. Be rights th’ walls ought to be dic’rated with moose antlers, tigers’ heads, diplomas, soords, votes iv Congress, medals an’ autygrafted pitchers iv th’ crowned heads iv Europe. Th’ best advintures anny iv us has is at home in a comf’rtable room–th’ mos’ excitin’ an’ th’ asiest. Ye can make ye’ersilf as brave as ye want an’ as cool, ye avide mussin’ ye’er clothes, ye flavor with danger to suit th’ taste, an’ ye get a good dale more applause an’ get it quicker thin th’ other kind iv hayro. F’r manny years I’ve shot all me tigers fr’m this rockin’ chair.”
Rights and Privileges of Women
“Woman’s rights? What does a woman want iv rights whin she has priv’leges? Rights is th’ last thing we get in this wurruld. They’re th’ nex’ things to wrongs. They’re wrongs tur-ned inside out. We have th’ right to be sued f’r debt instead iv lettin’ the bill run, which is a priv’lege. We have th’ right to thrile be a jury iv our peers, a right to pay taxes an’ a right to wurruk. None iv these things is anny good to me. They’se no fun in thim. All th’ r-rights I injye I don’t injye. I injye th’ right to get money, but I niver have had anny money to spind. Th’ constichooshion guarantees me th’ right to life, but I die; to liberty, but if I thry bein’ too free I’m locked up; an’ to th’ pursoot iv happiness, but happiness has th’ right to run whin pursood, an’ I’ve niver been able to three her yet. Here I am at iver-so-manny years iv age blown an’ exhausted be th’ chase, an’ happiness is still able to do her hundhred yards in tin minyits flat whin I approach. I’d give all th’ rights I read about for wan priv-lege. If I cud go to sleep th’ minyit I go to bed I wudden’t care who done me votin’.
“No, sir, a woman don’t need rights. Th’ pope, imprors, kings an’ women have priv-leges; ordhin’ry men has rights. Ye niver hear iv th’ Impror of Rooshya demandin’ rights. He don’t need thim in his wurruk. He gives thim, such as they ar’re, to th’ moojiks, or whativer it is ye call thim. D’ye think anny wan wud make a gr-reat success be goin’ to th’ Czar an’ sayin’: “Czar (or sire, as th’ case may be), ye must be unhappy without th’ sufferage. Ye must be achin’ all over to go down to th’ livry stable an’ cast ye’er impeeral ballot f’r Oscaroviski K. Hickinski f’r school thrustee?” I think th’ Czar wud reply: ‘Gintlemen, ye do me too much honor. I mus’ rayfuse. Th’ manly art iv sufferage is wan iv th’ most potint weepins iv th’ freeman, but I’m not used to it, an’ I wudden’t know what to do with it. It might be loaded. I think I’ll have to crawl along with me modest preerogatives iv collectin’ th’ taxes, dalin’ life an’ death to me subjicks, atin’ free, dhrinkin’ th’ best an’ livin’ aisy. But ye shall have ye’er rights. Posieotofski, lade th’ gintlemen out into th’ coortyard an’ give thim their rights as Rooshyan citizens. I think about twinty f’r each iv th’ comity an’ about a dozen exthry f’r the chairman. F’r wan iv th’ rights guaranteed to his subjicks, be me sainted father, was a good latherin’ ivry time it was comin’ to thim.’
“An’ so it is with women. They haven’t th’ right to vote, but they have th’ priv’lege iv conthrollin’ th’ man ye ilict. They haven’t th’ right to make laws, but they have th’ priv’lege iv breakin’ thim, which is betther. They haven’t th’ right iv a fair thrile be a jury iv their peers; but they have th’ priv’lege iv an unfair thrile be a jury iv their admirin’ infeeryors. If I cud fly d’ye think I’d want to walk?”
Avarice and Generosity
“I niver blame a man f’r bein’ avaricyous in his ol’ age. Whin a fellow gits so he has nawthin’ else to injye, whin ivrybody calls him ‘sir’ or ‘mister,’ an’ young people dodge him an’ he sleeps afther dinner, an’ folks say he’s an ol’ fool if he wears a buttonhole bokay an’ his teeth is only tinants at will an’ not permanent fixtures, ’tis no more thin nach’ral that he shud begin to look around him f’r a way iv keepin’ a grip on human s’ciety. It don’t take him long to see that th’ on’y thing that’s vin’rable in age is money an’ he pro-ceeds to acquire anything that happens to be in sight, takin’ it where he can find it, not where he wants it, which is th’ way to accumylate a fortune. Money won’t prolong life, but a few millyons judicyously placed in good banks an’ occas’nally worn on th’ person will rayjooce age. Poor ol’ men are always older thin poor rich men. In th’ almshouse a man is decrepit an’ mournful-lookin’ at sixty, but a millyonaire at sixty is jus’ in th’ prime iv life to a frindly eye, an’ there are no others.
“It’s aisier to th’ ol’ to grow rich thin it is to th’ young. At makin’ money a man iv sixty is miles ahead iv a la-ad iv twinty-five. Pollytics and bankin’ is th’ on’y two games where age has th’ best iv it. Youth has betther things to attind to, an’ more iv thim. I don’t blame a man f’r bein’ stingy anny more thin I blame him f’r havin’ a bad leg. Ye know th’ doctors say that if ye don’t use wan iv ye’er limbs f’r a year or so ye can niver use it again. So it is with gin’rosity. A man starts arly in life not bein’ gin’rous. He says to himsilf: “I wurruked f’r this thing an’ if I give it away I lose it.” He ties up his gin’rosity in bandages so that th’ blood can’t circylate in it. It gets to be a superstition with him that he’ll have bad luck if he iver does annything f’r annybody. An’ so he rakes in an’ puts his private mark with his teeth on all th’ movable money in th’ wurruld. But th’ day comes whin he sees people around him gettin’ a good dale iv injyemint out iv gin’rosity an’ somewan says: ‘Why don’t ye, too, be gin-rous? Come, ol’ green goods, unbelt, loosen up, be gin-rous.’ ‘Gin’rous?’ says he, ‘what’s that?’ ‘It’s th’ best spoort in th’ wurruld. It’s givin’ things to people.’ ‘But I can’t,’ he says. ‘I haven’t annything to do it with,’ he says. ‘I don’t know th’ game. I haven’t anny gin’rosity,’ he says. ‘But ye have,’ says they. ‘Ye have as much gin’rosity as annywan if ye’ll only use it,’ says they. ‘Take it out iv th’ plasther cast ye put it in an’ ’twill look as good as new,’ says they. An’ he does it. He thries to use his gin’rosity, but all th’ life is out iv it. It gives way undher him an’ he falls down. He can’t raise it fr’m th’ groun’. It’s ossyfied an’ useless. I’ve seen manny a fellow that suffered fr’m ossyfied gin’rosity.
“Whin a man begins makin’ money in his youth at annything but games iv chance, he niver can become gin’rous late in life. He may make a bluff at it.
Some men are gin’rous with a crutch. Some men get the use of their gin’rosity back suddenly whin they ar-re in danger. Whin Clancy the miser was caught in a fire in th’ Halsted Sthreet Palace hotel he howled fr’m a window: ‘I’ll give twinty dollars to annywan that’ll take me down.’ Cap’n Minehan put up a laddher an’ climbed to him an’ carrid him to the sthreet. Half-way down th’ laddher th’ brave rayscooer was seen to be chokin’ his helpless burdhen. We discovered aftherwards that Clancy had thried to begin negotyations to rayjooce th’ reward to five dollars. His gin’rosity had become suddenly par’lyzed again.
“So if ye’d stay gin’rous to th’ end niver lave ye’er gin’rosity idle too long. Don’t run it ivry hour at th’ top iv its speed, but fr’m day to day give it a little gintle exercise to keep it supple an’ hearty an’ in due time ye may injye it.”
The End of Things
“The raison no wan is afraid iv Death, Hinnessy, is that no wan ra-ally undherstands it. If anny wan iver come to undherstand it he’d be scared to death. If they is anny such thing as a cow’rd, which I doubt, he’s a man that comes nearer realizin’ thin other men, how seeryous a matther it is to die. I talk about it, an’ sometimes I think about it. But how do I think about it? It’s me lyin’ there in a fine shoot iv clothes an’ listenin’ to all th’ nice things people are sayin’ about me. I’m dead, mind ye, but I can hear a whisper in the furthest corner iv th’ room. Ivry wan is askin’ ivry wan else why did I die. ‘It’s a gr-reat loss to th’ counthry,’ says Hogan. ‘It is,’ says Donahue. ‘He was a fine man,’ says Clancy. ‘As honest a man is iver dhrew th’ breath iv life,’ says Schwartzmeister. ‘I hope he forgives us all th’ harm we attimpted to do him,’ says Donahue. ‘I’d give annything to have him back,’ says Clancy. ‘He was this and that, th’ life iv th’ party, th’ sowl iv honor, th’ frind iv th’ disthressed, th’ boolwark iv th’ constichoochion, a pathrite, a gintleman, a Christyan an’ a scholard.’ ‘An’ such a roguish way with him,’ says th’ Widow O’Brien.
“That’s what I think, but if I judged fr’m expeeryence I’d know it’d be, ‘It’s a nice day f’r a dhrive to th’ cimitry. Did he lave much?’ No man is a hayro to his undertaker.”
Hypocrisy
“It must be a good thing to be good or ivrybody wudden’t be pretendin’ he was. But I don’t think they’se anny such thing as hypocrisy in th’ wurruld. They can’t be. If ye’d turn on th’ gas in th’ darkest heart ye’d find it had a good raison for th’ worst things it done, a good varchous raison, like needin’ th’ money or punishin’ th’ wicked or tachin’ people a lesson to be more careful, or protectin’ th’ liberties iv mankind, or needin’ the money.”
History
“I know histhry isn’t thrue, Hinnessy, because it ain’t like what I see ivry day in Halsted Sthreet. If any wan comes along with a histhry iv Greece or Rome that’ll show me th’ people fightin’, gettin’ dhrunk, makin’ love, gettin’ married, owin’ th’ grocery man an’ bein’ without hard-coal, I’ll believe they was a Greece or Rome, but not befure. Historyans is like doctors. They are always lookin’ f’r symptoms. Those iv them that writes about their own times examines th’ tongue an’ feels th’ pulse an’ makes a wrong dygnosis. Th’ other kind iv histhry is a post-mortem examination. It tells ye what a counthry died iv. But I’d like to know what it lived iv.”
Enjoyment
“I don’t think we injye other people’s sufferin’, Hinnessy. It isn’t acshally injyement. But we feel betther f’r it.”
Gratitude
“Wan raison people ar-re not grateful is because they’re proud iv thimsilves an’ they niver feel they get half what they desarve. Another raison is they know ye’ve had all th’ fun ye’re entitled to whin ye do annything f’r annybody. A man who expicts gratichood is a usurer, an’ if he’s caught at it he loses th’ loan an’ th’ intherest.”