Mr. Dooley's Philosophy - Finley Peter Dunne (love novels in english .txt) 📗

said Mr. Dooley, "is a man ye niver heerd iv befure. If ye can think iv annywan whose face is onfamilyar to ye an' ye don't raymimber his name, an' he's got a job on a pa-aper ye didn't know was published, he's a war expert. 'Tis a har-rd office to fill. Whin a war begins th' timptation is sthrong f'r ivry man to grab hold iv a gun an go to th' fr-ront. But th' war expert has to subjoo his cravin' f'r blood. He says to himsilf 'Lave others seek th' luxuries iv life in camp,' he says. 'F'r thim th' boat races acrost th' Tugela, th' romp over the kopje, an' th' game iv laager, laager who's got th' laager?" he says. 'I will stand be me counthry,' he says, 'close,' he says. 'If it falls,' he says, 'it will fall on me,' he says. An' he buys himsilf a map made be a fortune teller in a dhream, a box iv pencils an' a field glass, an' goes an' looks f'r a job as a war expert. Says th' editor iv th' pa-aper: 'I don't know ye. Ye must be a war expert,' he says. 'I am,' says th' la-ad. 'Was ye iver in a war?' says th' editor. 'I've been in nawthin' else,' says th' la-ad. 'Durin' th' Spanish-American War, I held a good job as a dhramatic critic in Dedham, Matsachoosets,' he says. 'Whin th' bullets flew thickest in th' Soodan I was spoortin' editor iv th' Christyan Advocate,' he says. 'I passed through th' Franco-Prooshan War an' held me place, an' whin th' Turks an' Rooshans was at each other's throats, I used to lay out th' campaign ivry day on a checker board,' he says. 'War,' he says, has no turrors f'r me,' he says. 'Ye're th man f'r th' money,' says th' editor. An' he gets th' job."

"Thin th' war breaks out in earnest. No matther how manny is kilt, annything that happens befure th' war expert gets to wurruk is on'y what we might call a prelimin'ry skirmish. He sets down an' bites th' end iv his pencil an' looks acrost th' sthreet an' watches a man paintin' a sign. Whin th' man gets through he goes to th' window an' waits to see whether th' polisman that wint into th' saloon is afther a dhrink or sarvin' a warrant. If he comes r-right out 'tis a warrant. Thin he sets back in a chair an' figures out that th' pitchers on th' wall pa-aper ar-re all alike ivry third row. Whin his mind is thurly tuned up be these inthricate problems, he dashes to his desk an' writes what you an' I read th' nex' day in th' pa-apers."

"Clarence Pontoon, th' military expert iv th' London Mornin' Dhram, reviewin' Gin'ral Buller's position on th' Tugela, says: 'It is manifest fr'm th' dispatches tellin' that Gin'ral Buller has crost th' Tugela River that Gin'ral Buller has crost th' Tugela River. This we r-read in spite iv th' cinsor. Th' question is which side he has crost to. On Friday he was on th' north side in th' mornin' an' on th' south side at night, an' in th' river at noon. We heerd nawthin' Sathurdah mornin'. Th' presumption is that they was nawthin' to hear. Therefore it is aisy to imagine Gin'ral Buller, findin' his position on th' north side ontenable an' his position on th' south side onbearable, is thransportin' his troops up th' river on rafts an' is now engagin' th' inimy between Spitzozone an' Rottenfontein, two imminsely sthrong points. All this dimonsthrates th' footility an' foolishness iv attimptin' to carry a frontal position agains' large, well-fed Dutchmen with mud in th' fr-ront iv thim."

"'I cal'clate that it wud require thirty millyon thurly dauntless Britions to ixicute such a manoover, tin Boers ar-rmed with pop bottles bein' now considhered th' akel iv a brigade. What I wud do if I was Buller, an' I thank Hivin I'm not, wud be move me ar-rmy in half-an-hour over th' high but aisily accessible mountains to th' right iv Crowrijoy's forces, an' takin' off me shoes so he cudden't hear thim squeak, creep up behind th' Dutch an' lam their heads off. Afther this sthroke 'twud be aisy f'r to get th' foorces iv Fr-rinch, Gatacre, Methoon, an' Winston Churchill together some afthernoon, invite th' inimy to a band concert, surround an' massacree thim. This adroit move cud be ixicuted if Roberts wud on'y make use iv th' ixicillint bus sarvice between Hokesmith an' Mikesmith. It is exthraordinary that th' gin'ral on th' groun' has not seen th' possibilities so apparent at a distance.'"

"That's wan kind iv war expert, Hinnissy. Another kind is th' wan that gives it good to th' gover'mint. Says Willum McGlue, war expert iv th' London Mornin' Growl, who's supposed to be cheek be jowl with Lord Wolseley. 'England's greatness is slippin' away. Th' failure iv th' gover'mint to provide a well-equipped, thurly pathriotic ar-rmy iv Boers to carry on this war undher th' leadership iv gallant Joobert is goin' to be our roonation. We ar-re bethrayed be a lazy, effete, side- whiskered, golf-playin' gover'mint that wud rather lose this fight thin win it because they ar-re tired iv holdin' office. What can be said f'r public men so lost to shame that they spell Kopje with a "c" an' ar-re sindin' Englishmen to th' ends iv th' wurruld to fight f'r England? Down with thim!'"

"Well sir, 'tis a gr-reat thing f'r a counthry to have th' likes iv thim ar-round to direct manoovers that'd be gatherin' dust on th' shelf if th' gin'rals had their say, an' to prove to th' wurruld that th' English ar-re not frivolous, excitable people like us an' th' Frinch, but can take a batin' without losin' their heads."

"Sure," said Mr. Hennessy, "tis not thim that does th' fightin'. Th' la- ads with th' guns has that job."

"Well," said Mr. Dooley, "they'se two kinds iv fightin'. Th' experts wants th' ar-rmy to get into Pretoria dead or alive, an' th' sojers wants to get in alive. I'm no military expert, Hinnissy. I'm too well known. But I have me own opinyon on th' war. All this talk about th' rapid fire gun an' modhren methods iv warfare makes me wondher. They'se not so much diff'rence between war now an' war whin I was a kid, as they let on. Th' gun that shoots ye best fr'm a distance don't shoot ye so well close to. A pile iv mud is a pile iv mud now just th' same as it was whin Gin'ral Grant was pokin' ar-round. If th' British can get over th' mud pile they win th' fight. If they can't they're done. That's all they'se to it. Mos' men, sthrongest backs, best eyes an' th' ownership iv th' mud piles. That's war, Hinnissy. Th' British have th' men. They're shy iv backs, eyes an' mud piles, an' they will be until they larn that sheep-herdin' an' gin'ralship ar-re diff'rent things, an' fill up their ar-rmy with men that ar-re not fightin' f'r money or glory, but because they want to get home to their wives alive."

"Ye talk like an' ol book," said Mr. Hennessy, in disgust. "Ye with ye- re maundhrin' ar-re no betther thin thim expert la-ads."

"Well annyhow," said Mr. Dooley thoughtfully, "th' expert is sarvin' a useful purpose. Th' papers says th' rapid fire gun'll make war in th' future impossible. I don't think that, but I know th' expert will."


MODERN EXPLOSIVES

"If iver I wanted to go to war," said Mr. Dooley, "an' I niver did, th' desire has passed fr'm me iv late. Ivry time I read iv th' desthructive power iv modhern explosives col' chills chase each other up an' down me spine."

"What's this here stuff they calls lyddite?" Mr. Hennessy asked.

"Well, 'tis th' divvle's own med'cine," said Mr. Dooley. "Compared with lyddite joynt powdher is Mrs. Winslow's soothin' surup, an' ye cud lave th' childher play base-ball with a can iv dinnymite. 'Tis as sthrong as Gin'ral Crownjoy's camp th' day iv th' surrinder an' almost as sthrong as th' pollytics iv Montana. Th' men that handles it is cased in six inch armor an' played on be a hose iv ice wather. Th' gun that shoots it is always blown up be th' discharge. Whin this deadly missile flies through th' air, th' threes ar-re withered an' th' little bur-rds falls dead fr'm th' sky, fishes is kilt in th' rivers, an' th' tillyphone wires won't wurruk. Th' keen eyed British gunners an' corryspondints watches it in its hellish course an' tur-rn their faces as it falls into th' Boer trench. An' oh! th' sickly green fumes it gives off, jus' like pizen f'r potato bugs! There is a thremenjous explosion. Th' earth is thrown up f'r miles. Horses, men an' gun carredges ar-re landed in th' British camp whole. Th' sun is obscured be Boer whiskers turned green. Th' heart iv th' corryspondint is made sick be th' sight, an' be th' thought iv th' fearful carnage wrought be this dhread desthroyer in th' ranks iv th' brave but misguided Dutchmen. Th' nex' day deserters fr'm th' Boer ranks reports that they have fled fr'm th' camp, needin' a dhrink an' onable to stand th' scenes iv horror. They announce that th' whole Boer ar-rmy is as green as wall paper, an' th' Irish brigade has sthruck because ye can't tell their flag fr'm th' flag iv th' r-rest iv th' Dutch. Th' Fr-rinch gin'ral in command iv th' Swedish corps lost his complexion an' has been sint to th' hospital, an' Mrs. Gin'ral Crownjoy's washin' that was hangin' on th' line whin th' bombardmint comminced is a total wreck which no amount iv bluin' will save. Th' deserters also report that manny iv th' Boers ar-re outspannin', trekkin', loogerin', kopjein' an' veldtin' home to be dyed, f'r'tis not known whether lyddite is a fast color or will come out in th' wash."

"In spite iv their heavy losses th' Boers kept up a fierce fire. They had no lyddite, but with their other divvlish modhern explosives they wrought thremenjous damage. F'r some hours shells burst with turr'ble precision in th' British camp. Wan man who was good at figures counted as manny as forty-two thousan' eight hundhred an' sivin burstin' within a radyus iv wan fut. Ye can imagine th' hor-rible carnage. Colonel C. G. F. K. L. M. N. O. P. Hetherington-Casey-Higgins lost his eye-glass tin times, th' las' time almost swallowin' it, while ye'er faithful corryspondint was rindered deaf be th' explosions. Another Irish rig'mint has disappearded, th' Twelve Thousandth an' Eighth, Dublin Fusiliers. Brave fellows, 'tis suspicted they mistook th' explosion of lyddite f'r a Pathrick's Day procession an' wint acrost to take a look at it."

"Murdher, but 'tis dhreadful to r-read about. We have to change all our conciptions iv warfare. Wanst th' field was r-red, now 'tis a br-right lyddite green. Wanst a man wint out an' died f'r his counthry, now they sind him out an' lyddite dyes him. What do I mane? 'Tis a joke I made. I'll not explane it to ye. Ye wudden't undherstand it. 'Tis f'r th' eddycated classes."

"How they're iver goin' to get men to fight afther this I cudden't tell ye. 'Twas bad enough in th' ol' days whin all that happened to a sojer was bein' pinithrated be a large r-round gob iv solder or stuck up on th' end iv a baynit be a careless inimy. But now-a-days, they have th' bullet that whin it enthers ye tur-rns ar-round like th' screw iv a propeller, an' another wan that ye might say goes in