Mr. Dooley Says Read online

  THINGS SPIRITUAL

  "Th' latest thing in science," said Mr. Dooley, "is weighin' th' humansoul. A fellow up in Matsachoosetts has done it. He weighs ye befure yedie an' he weighs ye afther ye die, an' th' diff'rence is what ye'ersoul weighs. He's discovered that th' av'rage weight iv a soul in NewEngland is six ounces or a little less. Fr'm this he argies that th'conscience isn't part iv th' soul. If it was th' soul wud be in th'heavyweight class, f'r th' New England conscience is no feather. Hethinks it don't escape with th' soul, but lies burrid in th' roons ivits old fam'ly home--th' liver.

  "It's so simple it must be true, an' if it ain't true, annyhow it'ssimple. But it's a tur-rble thing to think iv. I can't see anny money init as an invintion. Who'll want to have his soul weighed? Suppose ye'ertime has come. Th' fam'ly ar-re busy with their own thoughts, grievin'because they hadn't been as good to ye as they might, because they won'thave ye with thim anny more, because it's too late f'r thim to squarethimsilves, pityin' ye because ye'er not remainin' to share theirsorrows with thim, wondhrin' whether th' black dhresses that were boughtin honor iv what people might have said if they hadn't worn thim inmimry iv Aunt Eliza, wud be noticed if they were worn again f'r ye. Th'very young mimbers iv th' fam'ly ar-re standin' around, thryin' to lookas sad as they think they ought to look. But they can't keep it up. Theynudge each other, their eyes wandher around th' room, an' fr'm time totime they glance over at Cousin Felix an' expect him to make a laugh'bleface. He's a gr-reat frind iv theirs an' they're surprised he isn'tgayer. Something must've happened to him. Maybe he's lost his job. Therear-re a gr-reat manny noises in th' sthreet. Th' undertaker whistles ashe goes by, an' two iv th' neighbors ar-re at th' gate sayin' what afine man ye were if ye didn't dhrink, an' askin' did ye leave much.

  "An' little ye care. Everything is a millyon miles away fr'm ye. F'r th'first time in ye'er life ye're alone. F'r the first time in ye'er lifeye ar-re ye'ersilf. F'r Hiven knows how manny years ye've been somebodyelse. Ye've been ye'er wife, ye'er fam'ly, ye'er relations, th' polismanon th' beat, th' doctor, th' newspaper reporther, th' foreman at th'mills, th' laws iv th' land, th' bartinder that gives ye dhrinks, th'tailor, th' barber, an' public opinion. Th' wurruld has held alookin'-glass in front iv ye fr'm th' day ye were born an' compelled yeto make faces in it. But in this here particular business ye have no wanto please but ye'ersilf. Good opinyon an' bad opinyon ar-re alike. Ye'reakelly unthroubled be gratichood an' revenge. No wan can help ye or stayye. Ye're beyond th' sound iv th' alarm clock an' th' facthry whistlean' beginnin' th' Big Day Off whin th' man iv Science shakes ye be th'elbow an' says: 'Ye've got to weigh out.' An' he weighs figures: 'Wanhundhred an' forty-siven fr'm wan hundhred an' fifty. Siven fr'm naughtcan't be done; borry wan; siven fr'm ten leaves three. I find that th'soul iv our late laminted frind weighed a light three poundsavirdoopoise.'

  "No, sir, it won't do. 'Twill niver be popylar. People won't have theirsouls weighed. I wudden't f'r all th' wurruld have th' wurrud go throughth' ward: 'Did ye hear about Dooley's soul?' 'No, what?' 'They had toget an expert accountant to figure its weight, it was that puny.'

  "D'ye suppose Dorgan, th' millyonaire, wud consint to it? Whin heentered th' race iv life he was properly handicapped with a soul tooffset his avarice an' his ability, so that some iv th' rest iv us wudhave a kind iv a show again him. But as soon as he thinks no wan can seehim he begins to get rid iv his weight an' comes rompin' home milesahead. But th' judges say: 'Hold on, there; yell have to weigh out,' an'a little later a notice is posted up that Dorgan is disqualified f'rridin' undherweight in th' matther iv soul. On th' other hand, there'slittle Miss Maddigan, th' seamstress. She's all but left at th' post;she's jostled all th' way around, an' comes in lame, a bad last. Butshe's th' only wan iv th' lot that's kept th' weight. She weighsninety-six pounds--six iv it bein' tea an' toast an ninety iv it soul.

  "No, sir, whin it comes to goin' up to th' scales to have their soulsweighed people'll be as shy as they are in a Customs House. Th' peoplethat wud make th' invintion pay wud be th' last to want to be tested byit. Th' pa-apers might keep records iv th' results: 'Misther So-an'-so,th' gr-reat captain iv finance, died yesterday, universally regretted.His estate amounts to nineteen millyon dollars. There ar-re two largebequests to charity. Wan is a thrust fund set aside f'r his maidensister Annybelle, who will receive f'r life th' income on eighthundhred dollars in stock iv th' Hackensack Meadows Comp'ny. Th' otheris forty-two dollars to buy a wooden leg f'r his brother Isaac, it bein'undherstood that no charge is to be made be th' estate against th'brother f'r a set iv false teeth bought f'r him in th' year nineteenfour. Th' balance iv th' property is left in trust f'r th' minorchildher until they ar-re 90 years old. Th' deceased requested that hissoul be measured be troy weight. It tipped th' beam at wanpennyweight.'"

  "D'ye think th' soul can be weighed?" asked Mr. Hennessy. "I know it'sthere, but I think--I kind iv feel--I wondher--I don't hardly know--"

  "I see what ye mean" said Mr. Dooley. "Scales an' clocks ar-re not to bethrusted to decide annything that's worth deciding. Who tells time be aclock? Ivry hour is th' same to a clock an' ivry hour is different tome. Wan long, wan short. There ar-re hours in th' avenin' that passbetween two ticks iv th' clock; there ar-re hours in th' arly mornin'whin a man can't sleep that Methusalah's age cud stretch in. Clocksar-re habichool liars, an' so ar-re scales. As soon as annything getsgood enough to weigh ye can't weigh it. Scales ar-re f'r th' otherfellow. I'm perfectly willin' to take ye'er weight or ye'er soul'sweight fr'm what th' scales say. Little I care. A pound or two more orless makes no diff'rence. But when it comes to measurin' somethingthat's precious to me, I'll not thrust it to a slight improvement on asee-saw.

  "But what do I know about it, annyhow? What do I know about annything?I've been pitchin' information into ye f'r more years thin anny wan iverwint to colledge, an' I tell ye now I don't know annything aboutannything. I don't like to thrust mesilf forward. I'm a modest man.Won't somebody else get up? Won't ye get up, Tiddy Rosenfelt; won't ye,Willum Jennings Bryan; won't ye, Prisidint Eliot; won't ye, pro-fissors,preachers, doctors, lawyers, iditors? Won't annybody get up? Won'tannybody say that they don't know annything about annything worthknowin' about? Thin, be Hivens, I will. All alone I'll stand up befureme class an' say: 'Hinnissy, about annything that can't be weighed on ascales or measured with a tape line I'm as ign'rant as--ye'ersilf. I'llhave to pay ye back th' money I took fr'm ye f'r ye'er schoolin'. It wasobtained be false pretences.'

  "How can I know annything, whin I haven't puzzled out what I am mesilf.I am Dooley, ye say, but ye're on'y a casual obsarver. Ye don't careannything about me details. Ye look at me with a gin'ral eye. Nawthin'that happens to me really hurts ye. Ye say, 'I'll go over to seeDooley,' sometimes, but more often ye say, 'I'll go over to Dooley's.'I'm a house to ye, wan iv a thousand that look like a row iv modelwurrukin'men's cottages. I'm a post to hitch ye'er silences to. I'malways about th' same to ye. But to me I'm a millyon Dooleys an' all ivthim sthrangers to ME. I niver know which wan iv thim is comin' in. I'mlike a hotel keeper with on'y wan bed an' a millyon guests, who come wanat a time an' tumble each other out. I set up late at night an' pass th'bottle with a gay an' careless Dooley that hasn't a sorrow in th'wurruld, an' suddenly I look up an' see settin' acrost fr'm me a gloomywretch that fires th' dhrink out iv th' window an' chases me to bed. I'mjust gettin' used to him whin another Dooley comes in, a cross,cantankerous, crazy fellow that insists on eatin' breakfast with me. An'so it goes. I know more about mesilf than annybody knows an' I knownawthin'. Though I'd make a map fr'm mem'ry an' gossip iv anny otherman, f'r mesilf I'm still uncharted.

  "So what's th' use iv thryin' to know annything less important. Don'tthry. All ye've got to do is to believe what ye hear, an' if ye do thatenough, afther a while ye'll hear what ye believe. Ye've got to start inbelievin' befure ye can find a reason f'r ye'er belief. Our old frindChristopher Columbus hadn't anny good reason f'r believin' that therewas anny such a place as America. But he believed it witho
ut a reasonan' thin wint out an' found it. Th' fellows that discovered th' canalson Mars which other fellows think cud be cured be a good oculist, hadn'tanny right to think there were canals on Mars. But wan iv thim said: 'Iwondher if there ar-re canals on Mars; I believe there ar-re. I'll lookan' see. Be Hivens, there ar-re.' If he'd wondhered an' thin believedabout clothes poles he'd've found thim too. Anny kind iv a fact is proofiv a belief. A firm belief atthracts facts. They come out iv holes inth' ground an' cracks in th' wall to support belief, but they run awayfr'm doubt.

  "I'll niver get anny medal f'r makin' anny man give up his belief. If Isee a fellow with a chube on his eye and hear him hollerin', 'Hooray,I've discovered a new planet,' I'll be th' last man in th' wurruld tobrush th' fly off th' end iv th' telescope. I've known people that seeghosts. I didn't see thim, but they did. They cud see ghosts an' Icudden't. There wasn't annything else to it. I knew a fellow that was aSpiritualist wanst. He was in th' chattel morgedge business on week daysan' he was a Spiritulist on Sunday. He cud understand why th' spiritswud always pick out a stout lady with false hair or a gintleman that hadhis thumb mark registhered at Polis Headquarthers to talk through, an'he knew why spirits liked to play on banjoes an' mandolins an' why theyconvarsed be rappin' on a table in th' dark. An' there was a man thatwud bite a silver dollar in two befure he'd take it f'r good."

  "My aunt seen a ghost wanst," said Mr. Hennessy.

  "Ivrybody's aunt has seen a ghost," said Mr. Dooley.