Mr. Dooley: In the Hearts of His Countrymen

by Finley Peter Dunne

"CYRANO DE BERGERAC."

"Ivry winter Hogan's la-ad gives a show with what he calls th' Sixth Wa-ard Shakspere an' Willum J. Bryan Club, an' I was sayjooced into goin' to wan las' night at Finucane's hall," said Mr. Dooley.

"Th' girls was goin'," said Mr. Hennessy; "but th' sthovepipe come down on th' pianny, an' we had a minsthrel show iv our own. What was it about, I dinnaw?"

"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I ain't much on th' theayter. I niver wint to wan that I didn't have to stand where I cud see a man in blue overalls scratchin' his leg just beyant where the heeroyne was prayin' on th' palace stairs, an' I don't know much about it; but it seemed to me, an' it seemed to Hartigan, th' plumber, that was with me, that 'twas a good play if they'd been a fire in th' first act. They was a lot iv people there; an', if it cud 've been arranged f'r to have injine company fifteen with Cap'n Duffy at th' head iv thim come in through a window an' carry off th' crowd, 'twud've med a hit with me.

"'Tis not like anny play I iver see before or since. In 'Tur-rble Tom; or, th' Boys iv Ninety-eight,' that I see wanst, th' man that's th' main guy iv th' thing he waits till ivry wan has said what he has to say, an' he has a clean field; an' thin he jumps in as th' man that plays th' big dhrum gives it an upper cut. But with this here play iv 'Cyrus O'Bergerac' 'tis far diff'rent. Th' curtain goes up an' shows Bill Delaney an' little Tim Scanlan an' Mark Toolan an' Packy Dugan, that wurruks in the shoe store, an' Molly Donahue an' th' Casey sisters, thim that scandalized th' parish be doin' a skirt dance at th' fair, all walkin' up an' down talkin'. 'Tin to wan on Sharkey,' says Toolan. 'I go ye, an' make it a hundherd,' says Tim Scanlan. 'Was ye at th' cake walk?' 'Who stole me hat?' 'Cudden't ye die waltzin'?' 'They say Murphy has gone on th' foorce.' 'Hivins, there goes th' las' car!' 'Pass th' butther, please: I'm far fr'm home.' All iv thim talkin' away at once, niver carin' f'r no wan, whin all at wanst up stheps me bold Hogan with a nose on him,—glory be, such a nose! I niver see th' like on a man or an illyphant.

"Well, sir, Hogan is Cy in th' play; an' th' beak is pa-art iv him. What does he do? He goes up to Toolan, an' says he: 'Ye don't like me nose. It's an ilicthric light globe. Blow it out. It's a Swiss cheese. Cut it off, if ye want to. It's a brick in a hat. Kick it. It's a balloon. Hang a basket on it, an' we'll have an' ascinsion. It's a dure-bell knob. Ring it. It's a punchin' bag. Hit it, if ye dahr. F'r two pins I'd push in th' face iv ye.' An', mind ye, Hinnissy, Toolan had said not wan wurrud about th' beak,—not wan wurrud. An' ivry wan in th' house was talkin' about it, an' wondhrin' whin it 'd come off an' smash somewan's fut. I looked f'r a fight there an' thin. But Toolan's a poor-spirited thing, an' he wint away. At that up comes Scanlan; an' says he: 'Look here, young fellow,' he says, 'don't get gay,' he says, 'don't get gay,' he says. 'What's that?' says Hogan. Whin a man says, 'What's that?' in a bar-room, it manes a fight, if he says it wanst. If he says it twict, it manes a fut race. 'I say,' says Scanlan, 'that, if ye make anny more funny cracks, I'll hitch a horse to that basket fender,' he says, 'an' dhrag it fr'm ye,' he says. At that Hogan dhrew his soord, an' says he: 'Come on,' he says, 'come on, an' take a lickin,' he says. An' Scanlan dhrew his soord, too. 'Wait,' says Hogan. 'Wait a minyit,' he says. 'I must think,' he says. 'I must think a pome,' he says. 'Whiniver I fight,' he says, 'I always have a pome,' he says. 'Glory be,' says I, 'there's Scanlan's chanst to give it to him,' I says. But Scanlan was as slow as a dhray; an', before he cud get action, Hogan was at him, l'adin' with th' pome an' counthrin' with the soord. 'I'll call this pome,' he says, 'a pome about a gazabo I wanst had a dool with in Finucane's hall,' he says. 'I'll threat ye r-right,' he says, 'an' at the last line I'll hand ye wan,' he says. An' he done it. 'Go in,' he says in th' pome, 'go in an' do ye'er worst,' he says. 'I make a pass at ye'er stomach,' he says, 'I cross ye with me right,' he says; 'an,' he says at th' last line, he says, 'I soak ye,' he says. An' he done it. Th' minyit 'twas over with th' pome 'twas off with Scanlan. Th' soord wint into him, an' he sunk down to th' flure; an' they had to carry him off. Well, sir, Hogan was that proud ye cudden't hold him f'r th' rest iv th' night. He wint around ivrywhere stickin' people an' soakin' thim with pothry. He's a gr-reat pote is this here Hogan, an' a gr-reat fighter. He done thim all at both; but, like me ol' frind Jawn L., he come to th' end. A man dhropped a two-be-four on his head wan day, an' he died. Honoria Casey was with him as he passed away, an' she says, 'How d'ye feel?' 'All right,' says Hogan. 'But wan thing I'll tell ye has made life worth livin',' he says. 'What's that?' says Miss Casey. 'I know,' says I. 'Annywan cud guess it. He manes his nose,' I says. But ivrywan on th' stage give it up. 'Ye don't know,' says Hogan. ''Tis me hat,' he says; an', makin a low bow to th' aujience, he fell to th' flure so hard that his nose fell off an' rowled down on Mike Finnegan. 'I don't like th' play,' says Finnegan, 'an' I'll break ye'er nose,' he says; an' he done it. He's a wild divvle. Hogan thried to rayturn th' compliment on th' sidewalk afterward; but he cudden't think iv a pome, an' Finnegan done him."

"Well, said Mr. Hennessy, "I'd like to've been there to see th' fightin'."

"In th' play?" asked Mr. Dooley.

"No," said Mr. Hennessy. "On th' sidewalk."