Mr. Dooley Says Read online

  TURKISH POLITICS

  "Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "onaisy lies th' crown on anny king's headthese days. Th' time was whin it was me ambition or wan iv thim to be aking. Arly in life I'd committed the youthful folly iv bein' bornoutside iv th' counthry an' so I cuddent be Prisidint. But it don't makeanny diff'rence what counthry a king comes from so long as he don't comefr'm th' counthry where he's king. 'No natives need apply,' is th'motto. If a counthry is so bad off that it has to have a king, they sinda comity down to Ellis Island an' pick out a good healthy Scandinavyan,make him throw away his wooden shoes an' leather cap, an' proclaim himking, Definder iv th' Faith. Kings are th' on'y assisted immygrants thatare let in. Th' King iv England is German, th' King iv Italy is aSardine, th' King iv Sweden is a Fr-rinchman, an' all th' other kingsan' queens are Danes excipt th' King iv Denmark, an' th' Lord knows whathe is.

  "So ye see, Hinnissy, there's nawthin' in th' Constitution to prevint mefr'm bein' a king, an I looked forward to th' time whin I'd turn th'Illinye Cinthral deepo into a rile palace an' rule me subjicks,ye'ersilf among thim, with a high hand. I'd be a just but marcifulmonarch. No wan that come to th' palace wud go away empty handed. I'dalways lave thim a little something. Divvle a bit iv a cabinet I'd have,but I'd surround mesilf with th' best thrained flattherers that cud behired f'r love or money, an' no wan wud tell me th' truth, an' I'd livean' die happy. I'd show these modhern kings how a king ought to behave.Ye wudden't see Martin I, iv beloved mim'ry, runnin' around like a hiredentertainer, wan day doin' th wurruk iv a talkative bricklayer at th'layin' iv a cornerstone, another day presidin' over a bankit iv th'Amalgamated Society iv Mannyfacthrers iv Hooks-an'-Eyes or racin' horseswith Boots Durnell an' Charlie Ox or waitin' out in th' rain f'r aballoon to come down that's stuck on a church steeple forty miles away.No, sir, I'd niver appear in public but wanst a year, an' thin I'dblindfold me lile subjicks so that they'd stay lile. An' I'd niver openme mouth excipt to command music an' dhrink. But th' low taste iv kingshas rooned th' business as a pursoot f'r gintlemen, an' to-day I'd thinktwict befure takin' th' job. 'Tis as preecaryous as a steeple jack's,an' no more permanent thin a Rosenfelt holdover undher Taft. If a kinggoes out an' looks haughty some wan iv his subjicks fires a gas pipebomb at him, an' if he thries to be janial he's li'ble to be slapped onth' back in th' paddock an' called 'Joe.'

  "Look at me frind, Abdul Hamid. Whin I dhreamed iv bein' king, sometimesI let me mind run on till I had mesilf promoted to be Sultan iv Turkey.There, me boy, was a job that always plazed me. It was well paid, itlooked to be permanent, and I thought it about th' best situation in th'wurruld. Th' Sultan was a kind iv a combination iv pope an' king. If hedidn't like ye, he first excommunicated ye an' thin he sthrangled ye.There, thinks I to mesilf, there he sets, th' happy old ruffyan, on asilk embroidered lounge, in his hand-wurruked slippers, with his legscurled up undher him, a turban on his head, a crooked soord in his lap,a pitcher iv sherbet (which is th' dhrink in thim parts) at his elbow, apipestem like a hose in his hand, while nightingales whistle in th'cypress threes in th' garden an' beautiful Circassyan ladies dance infront iv him far fr'm his madding throng iv wives, as th' pote says.

  "Whin th' sicrety iv th' threasury wants to repoort to him, he startsfr'm his office on his stomach an' wriggles into th' august prisince.'What is it ye want, oh head iv lignum vity?' says th' Sultan. 'Bark f'rth' ladies,' says he with a chuckle. 'Oh, descindant iv th' prophet,whose name be blest! Oh, sun an' moon an' stars, whose frown is deathan' whose smile is heaven to th' faithful;--' 'Don't be so familyar withme first name,' says th' Sultan, 'but go on with ye'er contimptiblesupplication,' says he. 'Ye'er slave,' says th' sicrety iv th' threasuryfr'm th' flure, 'is desthroyed with grief to tell ye that aftherstandin' th' intire empire on its head he's been onable to shake outmore thin two millyon piasthres f'r this week's expinses iv ye'erawfulness,' says he. 'What!' says th' sultan, 'two millyonpiasthres--bar'ly enough to buy bur-rd seed f'r me bulbuls,' says he.'How dare ye come into me august prisince with such an insult. Lave iton th' flure f'r th' boy that sweeps up, oh, son iv a tailor,' he says,an' he gives a nod an' fr'm behind a curtain comes Jawn Johnson withlittle on him, an' th' next thing ye hear iv th' faithless minister is asqueak an' a splash. He rules be love alone, thinks I, an' feelin' thatlife without love is useless, annybody that don't love him can go an'get measured f'r a name plate an' be sure he'll need it befure th' priceis lower. His people worship him an' why shudden't they. He allows thimto keep all th' dogs they want, he proticts thim fr'm dissolute habitsbe takin' their loose money fr'm thim, an' ivry year he gives thim anArmeenyan massacree which is a great help to th' cigareet business inthis counthry.

  "Happy Abdul, thinks I. If I cud be a haythen an' was a marryin' man,'tis ye'er soft spot I'd like to land in f'r me declinin' days. So whinI r-read in th' pa-apers that there was a rivolution startin' to fireAbdul Hamid, I says to mesilf: 'A fine chance ye've got, me lads. Thatold boy will be holdin' down his job whin there's a resignation fr'm th'supreeme coort bench at Wash'nton,' says I. 'Th' first thing ye youngTurks know ye'll-be gettin' a prisent fr'm ye'er sov'reign iv anecktie,' says I, 'an' it won't fit ye,' says I.

  "Well, sir, I was wrong. I knew I was wrong th' minyit I see a pitcheriv Abdul Hamid in th' pa-aper--a snap-shot, mind ye! Think of that,will ye? D'ye suppose a sultan or a king that knew his thrade wud iverlet anny wan take a snap-shot iv him? Did ye iver hear iv Alexander th'Gr-reat or Napoleon Bonyparte havin' a snap-shot took iv him? No, sir.Whin they wanted to satisfy th' vulgar curiosity iv th' popylace to knowwhat their lord looked like, they chained an artist to a wall in th'cellar of th' palace an', says they: 'Now set down an' paint a pitcheriv me that will get ye out iv here,' says they. Nobody in thim days knewthat th' king had a mole on his nose an' that wan iv his eyes was madeiv glass, excipt th' people that had jobs to lose.

  "Up to th' time Abdul Hamid wint thrapezin' around Constantinople in ahack an' havin' his pitcher took be amachoor phottygrafters his job wassecure. Up to that time whin wan Turk talked to another about him theytalked in whispers. 'What d'ye suppose he's like, Osman?' says wan. 'Ohme, oh my,' says th' other, 'but he's th' tur-rble wan. They says hisvoice is like thunder, an' lightnin' shoots fr'm his eyes that wudshrivel th' likes iv ye an' me to a cinder.' But whin Abdul, be damid,as th' potes call him, made th' mistake iv pokin' his head out iv th'palace 'twas diff'rent. 'Well, who d'ye think I see to-day but th'Sultan. I tell ye I did. What is he like? He ain't much to look at--askinny little man, Osman, that ye cud sthrangle between ye'er thumb an'forefinger. He had a bad cold an' was sneezin'. He wore a hand-me-downcoat. He has a wen on th' back iv his neck an' he's crosseyed. Here's apitcher iv him.' 'What, that little runt? Ye don't mean to say that'sth' Sultan.--Why, he looks like th' fellow that stops me ivry day on th'corner an' asks me have I anny old clothes betther thin what I have on.An' to think iv th' likes iv him rulin' over th' likes iv us. Let'sthrow him out.'

  "So it was with me old frind Abdul. Wan day a captain an' a squad ivpolis backed th' wagon up to th' dure iv th' palace an' rung th' bell.'Who's there?' says th' Sultan, stuffin' th' loose change into his shoe.'Th' house is pulled,' says th' captain. 'Ye'er license is expired. Ye'dbetther come peaceful,' he says. An' they bust in th' dure an' th'Sultan puts a shirt an' a couple iv collars into a grip an' selictsiliven iv his least formid-able wives to go along with him an' they puton their bonnets an' shawls an' carry out their bur-rd cages an' theirgoold fish an' their fancy wurruk an' th' pathrol wagon starts off an'has to stop so that iliven iv thim can go back an' get something theyf'rgot at th' last moment an' th' ex-commander iv th' faithful says,'Did ye iver know wan iv thim to be ready, Cap?' an' th' captain says,'They're all alike, Doc,' an' th' dhriver clangs th' bell, an' off goesth' mighty potentate to a two-story frame house in Englewood. An' th'sultan's brother is taken out iv a padded cell where he had been keptf'r twinty years because he was crazy to be sultan, an' is boosted intoth' throne. An' he has his pitcher took an' is intherviewed be th'reporthers an' tel
ls thim he will do th' best he can an' he hopes th'press won't be too hard on him, because he is a poor loonytick annyhow.

  "An' there ye ar-re. There goes me dhream iv bein' sultan along with medhream iv bein' a gr-reat gin'ral till th' Spanish war. If that's th'kind iv job a sultan has, I'll lave it f'r anny wan to take that wantsit. Why, be Hivens, whin th' Young Turks come to search th' palace, liketh' pathrites they ar-re, to find if he'd left anny money behind, divvleth' thrace they found iv annything that I'd thrade f'r me back room. Ibegun to feel sorry f'r th' poor old miscreent. Instead iv lollin' on asofy an' listenin' to th' song iv th' mockin' bur-rd in th' pommygranitethrees while ladies fr'm th' chorus iv 'Th' Black Crook' fanned him withfans iv peacock feathers, th' mis'rable old haythen was locked up in agarret with a revolver in his hand ready to shoot anny wan that comenext or near him. He suffered fr'm dyspepsia an' he cuddent sleepnights. He cud ate nawthin' sthronger thin milk toast. He was foorced befashion's whim to have five hundhred wives whin wan was abundant. Takeit all in all, he led a dog's life, an' I bet ye he's happyer now wherehe is, wathrin' th' geeranyums, mowin' th' lawn, an' sneakin' intoConstantinople iv a Saturday night an' seein' Circassyan girls dancin'f'r th' first time in his life. His childher are all grown up an' safein jail, he has four hundhred an' eighty-nine less wives, but iliven area good manny in th' suburbs; he has put away a few piasthres f'r a rainyday, out-iv-dure life may improve his health, an' I shudden't wondher ifye'd read some day in th' pa-aper: 'At th' Stambool county fair th'first prize f'r Poland Chiny hens was won be A. Hamid, th' pop'larex-sultan.'

  "Ye can't tell annything about it. Give th' poor man a chance, says I.There may be th' makins iv a dacint citizen in him afther all. Whatopporchunity has he had, tell me? What can ye expict fr'm a man thatniver was taught annything betther thin that he cud do annything hewanted to do without bein' called down f'r it? It doesn't make annydiff'rence whether 'tis a polisman or th' Rajah iv Beloochistan, begorry, put a club in his hand an' tell him that he can use it an' he'llbegin usin' it tomorrah. He'll break wan head tomorrah, two th' nextday, an' befure he's been on th' foorce or th' throne a year it'll be awhack on th' chimbly befure he says 'How ar-re ye.' By an' by he'll getso manny people afraid iv him that he'll be in danger and that'll makehim afraid iv thim, an' thin he'll be more dangerous thin iver, d'yemind? Th' on'y man ye need to be afraid iv is th' man that's afraid ivye. An' that's what makes a tyrant. He's scared to death. If I'd thoughtabout it whin I r-read iv me frind murdherin' people I'd've known they'dfind him thremblin' in a room an' shootin' at th' hired girl whin shecome in with his porridge. So I'm glad afther all that I didn't put inme application. I want no man to fear me. I'd hate to be more of acoward thin I am."

  "What ar-re these Turkish athrocities I've been r-readin' about?" saidMr. Hennessy.

  "I don't know," said Mr. Dooley. "I don't keep thim. Have a cigar?"