Mr. Dooley Says Read online

  THE RISING OF THE SUBJECT RACES

  "Ye'er frind Simpson was in here awhile ago," said Mr. Dooley, "an' hewas that mad."

  "What ailed him?" asked Mr. Hennessy.

  "Well," said Mr. Dooley, "it seems he wint into me frind Hip Lung'slaundhry to get his shirt an' it wasn't ready. Followin' what Hogancalls immemoryal usage, he called Hip Lung such names as he cud remimberand thried to dhrag him around th' place be his shinin' braid. Butinstead iv askin' f'r mercy, as he ought to, Hip Lung swung a flat-ironon him an' thin ironed out his spine as he galloped up th' stairs. Hecome to me f'r advice an' I advised him to see th' American consul.Who's th' American consul in Chicago now? I don't know. But Hogan, whowas here at th' time, grabs him be th' hand an' says he: 'Icongratulate ye, me boy,' he says. 'Ye have a chance to be wan iv th'first martyrs iv th' white race in th' gr-reat sthruggle that's comin'between thim an' th' smoked or tinted races iv th' wurruld,' he says.'Ye'll be another Jawn Brown's body or Mrs. O'Leary's cow. Go back an'let th' Chink kill ye an' cinchries hence people will come with wreathesand ate hard-biled eggs on ye'er grave,' he says.

  "But Simpson said he did not care to be a martyr. He said he was aretail grocer be pro-fissyon an' Hip Lung was a customer iv his, thoughhe got most iv his vittles fr'm th' taxydermist up th' sthreet an' hethought he'd go around to-morrah an' concilyate him. So he wint away.

  "Hogan, d'ye mind, has a theery that it's all been up with us blondessince th' Jap'nese war. Hogan is a prophet. He's wan iv th' gr-reatestprophets I know. A prophet, Hinnissy, is a man that foresees throuble.No wan wud listen a minyit to anny prophet that prophesized pleasantdays. A successful weather prophet is wan that predicts thunder storms,hurrycanes an' earthquakes; a good financial prophet is wan thatpredicts panics; a pollytickal prophet must look into th' tea leaves an'see th' institutions iv th' wurruld cracked wide open an' th' smilingnot to say grinnin', fields iv this counthry iv ours,' or somebody'slaid waste with fire and soord. Hogan's that kind iv a prophet. I'monhappy about to-day but cheerful about to-morrah. Hogan is th' happyestman in th' wurruld about to-day but to-morrah something is goin' tohappen. I hate to-day because to-morrah looks so good. He's happy to-daybecause it is so pleasant compared with what to-morrah is goin' to be.Says I: 'Cheer up; well have a good time at th' picnic next Saturdah.'Says he: 'It will rain at th' picnic.'

  "He's a rale prophet. I wudden't pick him out as a well-finder. Hecudden't find a goold mine f'r ye but he cud see th' bottom iv wanthrough three thousand feet iv bullyon. He can peer into th' mostblindin' sunshine an' see th' darkness lurkin' behind it. He'spredicted ivry war that has happened in our time and eight thousand thathaven't happened to happen. If he had his way th' United States navy wudbe so big that there wudden't be room f'r a young fellow to row his girlin Union Park. He can see a war cloud where I can't see annything butsomebody cookin' his dinner or lightin' his pipe. He'd made th' gr-reatforeign iditor an' he'd be fine f'r th' job f'r he's best late at night.

  "Hogan says th' time has come f'r th' subjick races iv th' wurruld torejooce us fair wans to their own complexion be batin' us black andblue. Up to now 'twas: 'Sam, ye black rascal, tow in thim eggs or I'llthrow ye in th' fire. 'Yassir,' says Sam. 'Comin',' he says. 'Twas: 'WowChow, while ye'er idly stewin' me cuffs I'll set fire to me unpaidbills.' I wud feel repaid be a kick,' says Wow Chow. 'Twas: 'MaharajahSewar, swing th' fan swifter or I'll have to roll over f'r me dog whip.''Higgins Sahib,' says Maharajah Sewar, 'Higgins Sahib, beloved iv Gawdan' Kipling, ye'er punishments ar-re th' nourishment iv th' faithful. Myblood hath served thine f'r manny ginerations. At laste two. 'Twas thineold man that blacked my father's eye an' sint my uncle up f'r eightydays. How will ye'er honor have th' accursed swine's flesh cooked f'rbreakfast in th' mornin' when I'm through fannin' ye?'

  "But now, says Hogan, it's all changed. Iver since th' Rooshyans werestarved out at Port Arthur and Portsmouth, th' wurrad has passed aroundan' ivry naygur fr'm lemon color to coal is bracin' up. He says theyhave aven a system of tilly-graftin' that bates ours be miles. They haveno wires or poles or wathered stock but th' population is so thick thatwhin they want to sind wurrud along th' line all they have to do is f'rwan man to nudge another an' something happens in Northern Chiny isknown in Southern Indya befure sunset. And so it passed through th'undherwurruld that th' color line was not to be dhrawn anny more, an'Hogan says that almost anny time he ixpicts to see a black face peerin'through a window an' in a few years I'll be takin' in laundhry in abasement instead iv occypyin' me present impeeryal position, an' ye'llbe settin' in front iv ye'er cabin home playin' on a banjo an' watchin'ye'er little pickahinnissies rollickin' on th' ground an' wondhrn' whinth' lynchin' party'll arrive.

  "That's what Hogan says. I niver knew th' subjick races had so much inthim befure. A few years ago I had no more thought iv Japan thin I haveiv Dorgan's cow. I admire Dorgan's cow. It's a pretty cow. I have oftenleaned on th' fence an' watched Dorgan milkin' his cow. Sometimes Iwondhered in a kind iv smoky way why as good an' large a cow as thatshud let a little man like Dorgan milk her. But if Dorgan's cow shudstand up on her hind legs, kick over the bucket, chase Dorgan out iv th'lot, put on a khaki unyform, grab hold of a Mauser rifle an' beginshootin' at me, I wudden't be more surprised thin I am at th' idee ivJapan bein' wan iv th' nations iv th' wurruld. I don't see what th'subjick races got to kick about, Hinnissy. We've been awfully good tothim. We sint thim missionaries to teach thim th' error iv theirrelligyon an' nawthin' cud be kinder thin that f'r there's nawthin'people like betther thin to be told that their parents are not be annymeans where they thought they were but in a far more crowded an'excitin' locality. An' with th' missionaries we sint sharpshooters thatcud pick off a Chinyman beatin' th' conthribution box at five hundherdyards. We put up palashal goluf-coorses in the cimitries an' what waswanst th' tomb iv Hung Chang, th' gr-reat Tartar Impror, rose to th'dignity iv bein' th' bunker guardin' th' fifth green. No Chinyman cudfail to be pleased at seein' a tall Englishman hittin' th' Chinyman'sgrandfather's coffin with a niblick. We sint explorers up th' Nile whoraypoorted that th' Ganzain flows into th' Oboo just above Lake Mazap, afact that th' naygurs had known f'r a long time. Th' explorer announcesthat he has changed th' names iv these wather-coorses to Smith,Blifkins an' Winkinson. He wishes to deny th' infamyous story that heiver ate a native alive. But wan soon succumbs to th' customs iv acounthry an' Sir Alfred is no viggytaryan.

  "An' now, be Hivin, all these here wretched millyons that we've done somuch f'r ar-re turnin' on us. Th' Japs threaten us with war. Th' Chinesewon't buy shoes fr'm us an' ar-re chasin' th' missionaries out iv theircozy villas an' not even givin' thim a chance to carry away theirpiannies or their silverware. There's th' divvle to pay all along th'levee fr'm Manchurya to Madagascar, accordin' to Hogan. I begin to feelonaisy. Th' first thing we know all th' other subjick races will be up.Th' horses will kick an' bite, the dogs will fly at our throats whin welick thim, th' fishes will refuse to be caught, th' cattle an' pigs willset fire to th' stock yards an' there'll be a gineral rebellyon againstth' white man.

  "It's no laughin' matther, I tell ye. A subjick race is on'y funny whinit's raaly subjick. About three years ago I stopped laughin' atJap'nese jokes. Ye have to feel supeeryor to laugh an' I'm gettin' overthat feelin'. An' nawthin' makes a man so mad an' so scared as whinsomething he looked down on as infeeryor tur-rns on him. If a fellow manhits him he hits him back. But if a dog bites him he yells 'mad dog' an'him an' th' neighbors pound th' dog to pieces with clubs. If th' naygursdown South iver got together an' flew at their masters ye'd hear no morecoon songs f'r awhile. It's our conceit makes us supeeryor. Take it outiv us an' we ar-re about th' same as th' rest."

  "I wondher what we'd do if all thim infeeryor races shud come at ustogether?" said Mr. Hennessy. "They're enough iv thim to swamp us."

  "Well," said Mr. Dooley, "I'd have to go on bein' white or, to speakmore acc'rately, pink. An' annyhow I guess they've been infeeryor toolong to change. It's got to be a habit with thim."

 
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