Mr Dooley on the Home Life of Geniuses.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue XX, 15 November 1902, Page 1266

Mr Dooley on the Home Life of Geniuses.

“A woman ought to be careful Whom she marries,** said Mr. Dooley. “So ought a man,” said Mr. Hennessy with feeling.

It don't make so much difFrence about him,*’ said Mr. Dooley. "Whin a man’s marrid, he's a marrid man. That's all ye can say about him. It course, he thinks marredge is goin’ to change th’ whole current iv his bein’, as Hogan says. But it doesn't. Afther he's been hooked up fr a few months he finds he was marrid before, even if he wasn’t, which is often th’ case, d’ye mind. Th’ first bride iv his bosom was th’ Day’s Wurruk, an’ it can’t be put off. They’se no groan's f’r dissolvin’ that marredge, Hinnissy. Ye can’t say to th’ Day’s Wurruk: ‘Here’, take this bunch of alimony an* go on th’ artage.’ It turns up at breakfast, about th’ fourth month afther th’ weddin’, and creates a scandal. Th’ unforchnit man thries to shoo it off, but it fixes him with its eye an’ hauls him away fr’m th’ bacon an’ eggs, while th’ lady opposite weeps an* wondhers what he can see in annything so old an" homely. It says, ‘Come with me, aroon,’ an’ he goes. An' afther that he spinds most iv his time an’ often a good deal iv his money with th’ enchantress.

“I tell ye what, Hinnissy, th’ Day’s Wurruk has broke up more happy homes thin comic opry. If th’ coorts wud allow it, manny a woman cud get a divorce on th* groun’s that her husband cared more f’r his Day’s Wurruk thin he did f’r her. ‘Hinnissy varsus Hinnissy; corryspondint, th’ Day’s Wurruk.’ They’d be ividence that th’ defindant was seen ridin’ in a cab with th’ corryspondint, that he took it to a picnic, that he wint to th’ theaytre with it, that he talked about it in his sleep, an’ that, lost to all sinse iv shame, he even escoorted it home with him an’ inthrajooced it to his varchous wife an' innocent childher. So it don’t make much diflTrenee who a man marries. If he has a job, he’s safe. “But with a woman ’tis diff’rent. Th’ man puts down on’y part iv th’ bet. Whin he’s had enough iv th’ convarsation that in Union Park undher th’ threes med him think he was talkin’ with an intellechool joyntess, all he has to do is to put on his coat, grab up his dinner pail an’ go down to th’ shops, to be happy though marrid. But a woman, I tell ye, bets all she has. A man don’t have to marry, but a woman does. Ol’ maids an’ clergymen do th’ most good in th’ wurruld, an’ we love thim f’r th’ good they do. But people, especially women, don’t want to be loved that way. They want to be loved because people can’t help lovin' thim no matther how bad they are. “Th’ story-books that ye give ye’er daughter Honoria all tell her ’tis just as good not to be married. She reads about how kind Dorothy was to Lulu’s childher, an’ she knows Dorothy was th’ betther woman, but she

wants to be Lulu. Her heart, an* a cold look in th* eye iv th* wurruld an* her Ma tell her to hurry up. Early in life she looks f’r th’ man iv her choice in th’ tennis records; later she reads th’ news fr’m th’ militia encampmint; thin she studies th’ socyal raaygister; further on she makes hersilf familyar with Bradsthreet's rayports, an’ finally she watches th’ place ware life presarvers are bangin’. “Now, what kind iv a man ought a woman to marry? She oughtn’t to marry a young man, because she’ll grow older quicker thin he will; she oughtn’t to marry an old man, because he’ll be much older before he's younger; she oughtn’t to marry a poor man, because he may become rich an’ lose her; she oughtn’t to marry a rich man, because if he becomes poor she can’t lose him; she oughtn’t to marry a man that knows more thin she does, because he’ll niver fail to show it, an’ she oughtn’t to marry a man that knows less, because he may niver catch up. But above all things she mustn’t marry a janius. A fiure walker, perhaps; a janius—niver. “I tell ye this because I’ve been r-readin’ a book Hogan give me, about th’ diwle’s own time a janius had with his fam’ly. A cap iv industhry may have throuble in his fam’ly till there isn’t a whole piece iv chiny in th’ cupboard, an’ no wan’ll be th’ wiser f’r it but th’ hired girl an’ th’ doctor that paints th’ black eye. But ivrybody knows what happens in a janius’ house. Th’ janius always tells th’ bartinder. Besides, he has other janiuses callin’ on him, an’ ’tis th’ business iv a janius to write about th’ domestic throubles iv other janiuses so posterity’ll know what a hard thing it is to be a janius an’ duck. I’.ve been readin' this book iv Hogan’s, an’, as I tell ye, ’tis about th* misery a wretched woman inflicted on a pote’s life. ‘Our hayro,' says th’ author, ‘at this peeryod eonthracted an unforchnit alliance that was destined to cast a deep gloom over his career. At th’ age iv fifty, afther a life devoted to th’ pursoot iv such gayety as janiuses have always found nicisary to solace their avenin’s, he marrid a young an’ beautiful girl some thirty-two years his junior. This wretched crather had no appreciation iv lithrachoor or lithry men. She was frivolyous an’ light-minded, an* ividintly considhered that nawthin’ was rally lithrachoor that cudden’t be translated into groceries.’ “Niver shall I Urget th’ expression iv despair on th’ face iv this godlike man as he came into Casey’s saloon wan starry July avenin’ an’ staggered into his familyar seat, holdin* in his hand a bit iv soiled paper which he tore into fragmints an’ hurled into th’ coal-scuttle. On that crumpled parchmint findin’ a sombre grave among th’ disinterred relics iv an age long past—to wit, th' cariboniferious, or coal age—was written th’ iver-mim-rable pome: ‘Ode to Gin.’ Our frind had scribbled it hastily at th’ dinner iv th’ Better-thin-Shake»-

pere Club, an’ had attimpted to read it to his wife through th* keyhole iv her bedroom dure, an* met no response fr’m th* fillystein but a pitcher iv wather through th’ thransom. Forchnitely he had preserved a copy on his cuff, an’ th’ gem was not lost to posterity. But such was th’ home life iv wan iv th’ gr-ratest iv lithry masthers, a man indowed be nachure with all that shud make a woman adore him, as is proved be his tindher varses: To Carrie,’ ‘To Maude,* ‘To Flossie,’ ‘To Angebel,’ To Queenie,’ an’ so foorth. De Bonipoort in his eillybrated ‘Mimores,’ in which he tells ivrything unpleasant he see or heerd in his frinds’ houses, gives a sthrikin’ pitcher iv a scene that happened before his eyes. ‘Afther a few basins iv absceenthe in th’ reev gosh,’ says he, ‘Parnassy invited us home to dinner. Sivral iv th’ bum vivonts was hard to wake up, but fin’lly we arrived at th’ handsome cellar where our gr-reat frind had installed his unworthy fam-ly.

“ ‘lverything pinted to th’ admirable taste fV th’ thrue artist. Th’ tub, th’ washboard, th’ biler singin* on th’ fire, th’ neighbor’s washin’ dancin' on th’ clothes rack, were all in keepin’ with th’ best ideals iv what a pote’s home shud be. Th’ wife, a faded but still pretty woman, welcomed us more or less, an’ with th’ assistance iv sivral bottles iv paint we had brought with us, we was soon launched on a feast iv raison an' a flow iv sowL Unhappily, befure th’ raypast was concluded a mis'rable scene took place. Amid cries iv approval Parnassy read his mimrable pome, in titled: ‘I wisht I niver got marrid.’ Afther finishin’ in a perfect roar iv applause, he happened to look up an’ see his wife callously rockin’ th’ baby. With th’ impetchosity so

charackteristic iv th’ man he broke a soup plate over her head an’ burst into tears on th’ fiure, where gentle sleep soon soothed th’ pangs iv a weary heart. We left as quietly as we cud, considherin’ th’ way th'

chairs was placed, an’ wanst undher th’ stars commlnted on th’ ir*ny iv fate that condimned so great man to so milancholy a distiny.’ “ ‘This,’ says our author, ‘was the daily life iv th’ hayro f’r tin years. In what purgatory will that infamous woman suffer if Hiven thinks as much iv janiuses as we think iv oursilves. Forchnitely th’ pote was soon to be mercifully relieved. He left her an’ she marrid a boorjawce, with whom she led a life iv coarse happiness. It is sad to relate that some years aftherward th’ great pote, havin’ called to make a short touch on th’ woman f’r whom he had aacryficed so much, was unfeelingly kicked out iv th’ boorjawce’s plumbin' shop.’

"So ye see, Hinnissy, why a woman oughtn’t to marry a janius. She can’t be cross or peevish or angry or jealous or frivolous or annything else a woman ought to be at times f’r fear it will get into th’ ditchn’ry iv bio-graphy, an’ she’ll go down to histhry as a termygant. A termygant, Hinnissy, is a woman who’s heerd talkin’ to her husband afther they’ve been marrid a year. Hogan says all janiuses was unhappily marrid. I guess that’s thrue iv their wives, too. He says if ye hear iv a pote who got on with his fam’ly, scratch Kim fr’m ye’er public lib’ry list. An’ there ye ar-re.” “Ye know a lot about marredge,** said Mr. Hennessy. “I do,” said Mr. Dooley. “Ye was niver marrid?” “No,” said Mr. Dooley. “No, I say, givin' three cheers. I know about marredge th’ way an asthronomer knows about th’ stars. I’m studyin’ it through me glass all th’ time.” “Ye’re an asthronomer,” said Mr. Hennessy; “but,” he added, tapping himself lightly on the chest, “I’m a star.” “Go home,” said Mr. Dooley, crossly, “befure th’ mornin’ comes to put ye out.”