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107 pages

English

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Around the turn of the twentieth century, one of the most important barometers of public opinion in the United States was one Martin Dooley, an Irish immigrant to America who operated a humble watering hole near Chicago. Dooley was the creation of journalist Finley Peter Dunne, who used the bombastic barkeep as a medium via which to dissect and lampoon current events. Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War, the first collection of Dooley essays, was an instant literary hit.

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Humour

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 décembre 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776593972
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

MR. DOOLEY IN PEACE AND IN WAR
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FINLEY PETER DUNNE

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Mr. Dooley in Peace and in War First published in 1898 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-397-2 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-398-9 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Preface MR. DOOLEY IN WAR On Diplomacy On War Preparations On Fitz-Hugh Lee On Mules and Others On His Cousin George On Some Army Appointments On Strategy On General Miles's Moonlight Excursion On Admiral Dewey's Activity On the Philippines On Prayers for Victory On the Anglo-Saxon On a Letter from the Front On Our Cuban Allies On the Destruction of Cervera's Fleet On a Letter to Mr. Depew On the President's Cat On a Speech by President McKinley On the Hero in Politics MR. DOOLEY IN PEACE On New Year's Resolutions On Gold-Seeking On Books On Reform Candidates On Paternal Duty On Criminals On a Plot On the New Woman On Expert Testimony On the Popularity of Firemen On the Game of Football On the Necessity of Modesty Among the Rich On the Power of Love On the Victorian Era On the Currency Question On Political Parades On Charity On Nansen On a Populist Convention On a Family Reunion On a Famous Wedding On a Quarrel Between England and Germany On Oratory in Politics On Christmas Gifts On Anarchists On the Dreyfus Case On the Decadence of Greece On the Indian War On Golf On the French Character
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TO W.H. TURNER
Preface
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Archey Road stretches back for many miles from the heart of an ugly cityto the cabbage gardens that gave the maker of the seal his opportunityto call the city "urbs in horto." Somewhere between the two—that is tosay, forninst th' gas-house and beyant Healey's slough and not far fromthe polis station—lives Martin Dooley, doctor of philosophy.
There was a time when Archey Road was purely Irish. But the Huns, turnedback from the Adriatic and the stock-yards and overrunning Archey Road,have nearly exhausted the original population,—not driven them out asthey drove out less vigorous races, with thick clubs and short spears,but edged them out with the more biting weapons of moderncivilization,—overworked and under-eaten them into more languidsurroundings remote from the tanks of the gas-house and the blastfurnaces of the rolling-mill.
But Mr. Dooley remains, and enough remain with him to save the ArcheyRoad. In this community you can hear all the various accents of Ireland,from the awkward brogue of the "far-downer" to the mild and aisyElizabethan English of the southern Irishman, and all the exquisitevariations to be heard between Armagh and Bantry Bay, with thedifference that would naturally arise from substituting cinders andsulphuretted hydrogen for soft misty air and peat smoke. Here also youcan see the wakes and christenings, the marriages and funerals, and theother fêtes of the ol' counthry somewhat modified and darkened byAmerican usage. The Banshee has been heard many times in Archey Road. Onthe eve of All Saints' Day it is well known that here alone the pookiesplay thricks in cabbage gardens. In 1893 it was reported that MalachiDempsey was called "by the other people," and disappeared west of thetracks, and never came back.
A simple people! "Simple, says ye!" remarked Mr. Dooley. "Simple liketh' air or th' deep sea. Not complicated like a watch that stops whinth' shoot iv clothes ye got it with wears out. Whin Father Butlerwr-rote a book he niver finished, he said simplicity was not wearin' allye had on ye'er shirt-front, like a tin-horn gambler with his di'mon'stud. An' 'tis so."
The barbarians around them are moderately but firmly governed,encouraged to passionate votings for the ruling race, but restrainedfrom the immoral pursuit of office.
The most generous, thoughtful, honest, and chaste people in the worldare these friends of Mr. Dooley,—knowing and innocent; moral, butgiving no heed at all to patented political moralities.
Among them lives and prospers the traveller, archæologist, historian,social observer, saloon-keeper, economist, and philosopher, who has notbeen out of the ward for twenty-five years "but twict." He reads thenewspapers with solemn care, heartily hates them, and accepts all theyprint for the sake of drowning Hennessy's rising protests against hislogic. From the cool heights of life in the Archey Road, uninterruptedby the jarring noises of crickets and cows, he observes the passingshow, and meditates thereon. His impressions are transferred to thedesensitized plate of Mr. Hennessy's mind, where they can do no harm.
"There's no betther place to see what's goin' on thin the Ar-rcheyRoad," says Mr. Dooley. "Whin th' ilicthric cars is hummin' down th'sthreet an' th' blast goin' sthrong at th' mills, th' noise is thatgr-reat ye can't think."
He is opulent in good advice, as becomes a man of his station; for hehas mastered most of the obstacles in a business career, and by leadinga prudent and temperate life has established himself so well that heowns his own house and furniture, and is only slightly behind on hislicense. It would be indelicate to give statistics as to his age. Mr.Hennessy says he was a "grown man whin th' pikes was out in forty-eight,an' I was hedge-high, an' I'm near fifty-five." Mr. Dooley says Mr.Hennessy is eighty. He closes discussion on his own age with the remark,"I'm old enough to know betther." He has served his country withdistinction. His conduct of the important office of captain of hisprecinct (1873-75) was highly commended, and there was some talk ofnominating him for alderman. At the expiration of his term he waspersonally thanked by the Hon. M. McGee, at one time a member of thecentral committee. But the activity of public life was unsuited to a manof Mr. Dooley's tastes; and, while he continues to view the politicalsituation always with interest and sometimes with alarm, he hasresolutely declined to leave the bar for the forum. His earlyexperience gave him wisdom in discussing public affairs. "Politics," hesays, "ain't bean bag. 'Tis a man's game; an' women, childher, an'pro-hybitionists'd do well to keep out iv it." Again he remarks, "AsShakespeare says, 'Ol' men f'r th' council, young men f'r th' ward.'"
An attempt has been made in this book to give permanent form to a few ofthe more characteristic and important of Mr. Dooley's utterances. Forpermission to reprint the articles the thanks of the editor are due toMr. George G. Booth, of the Chicago Journal , and to Mr. Dooley'sconstant friend, Mr. H.H. Kohlsaat, of the Chicago Evening Post .
F. P. D.
MR. DOOLEY IN WAR
*
On Diplomacy
*
"I'll explain it to ye," said Mr. Dooley. "'Tis this way. Ye see, thishere Sagasta is a boonco steerer like Canada Bill, an' th' likes iv him.A smart man is this Sagasta, an' wan that can put a crimp in th' ca-ardsthat ye cudden't take out with a washerwoman's wringer. He's beenthrough manny a ha-ard game. Talk about th' County Dimocracy picnic,where a three-ca-ard man goes in debt ivry time he hurls th' broads,'tis nawthin' to what this here Spanish onion has been again an' beat.F'r years an' years he's played on'y profissionals. Th' la-ads he'stackled have more marked ca-ards in their pockets thin a preacher fr'mMitchigan an' more bad money thin ye cud shake out iv th' coat-tailpockets iv a prosp'rous banker fr'm Injianny. He's been up againGladstun an' Bisma-arck an' ol' what-ye-call-'im, th' Eyetalian,—hisname's got away from me,—an' he's done thim all.
"Well, business is bad. No wan will play with him. No money's comin'in. Th' circus has moved on to th' nex' town, an' left him without acustomer. Th' Jew man that loaned him th' bank-roll threatens to seizeth' ca-ards on' th' table. Whin, lo an' behold, down th' sthreet comes ama-an fr'm th' counthry,—a lawyer fr'm Ohio, with a gripsack in hishand. Oh, but he's a proud man. He's been in town long enough f'r to getout iv th' way iv th' throlley ca-ar whin th' bell rings. He's larnednot to thry an' light his see-gar at th' ilicthric light. He doesn'toffer to pay th' ilivator ma-an f'r carryin' him upstairs. He's got sohe can pass a tall buildin' without thryin' f'r to turn a backsummersault. An' he's as haughty about it as a new man on an ice-wagon.They'se nawthin' ye can tell him. He thinks iv himsilf goin' back toCanton with a r-red necktie on, an' settin' on a cracker box an' tellin'th' lads whin they come in fr'm pitchin' hor-rseshoes what a hot timehe's had, an' how he's seen th' hootchy-kootchy an' th' Pammer Housebarber shop, an' th' other ondacint sights iv a gr-reat city.
"An' so he comes up to where Sagasta is kind iv throwin' th' ca-ardsidly on th' top iv th' bar'l, an' Sagasta pipes him out iv th' corner ivhis eye, an' says to himsilf: 'Oh, I dinnaw,' an' thanks hiven f'r th'law that has a sucker bor-rn ivry minyit. An' th' la-ad fr'm Cantonthinks he can pick out th' Jack, an' sometimes he can an' sometimes hecan't; but th' end iv it is th' Spanyard has him thrimmed down to hischest protector, an' he'll be goin' back to Canton in a blanket. Ye seeit ain't his game. If it was pitchin' hor-rseshoes, 'twud be diff'rent.He cud bate Sagasta at that. He cud do him at rasslin' or chasin' th'greased pig, or in a wan-legged race or th' tug-iv-war. He cud make himlook foolish at liftin' a kag iv beer or hitchin' up a team. But, whinit comes to di-plo-macy, th' Spanyard has him again th' rail, an' countson him till his ar-rm is sore."
"Why don't he tur-rn in an' fight?" demanded the patriotic Mr.Henness