J. Donleavy - The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, Gentleman

‘Where Kildare will you be staying in Dublin.’

‘At the Shelbourne, Kelly. You ought to look me up now and again.’

‘I should like to do that.’

‘Do.’

‘You know Kildare I do feel rather good to be riding together with you like this. As if somehow it was predestined. O I don’t want to sound pompous. But you do know what I mean.’

‘Yes I do Kelly. I know exactly what you mean.’

The wheels arriving at the station made the most magnificent pebble crushing sound with everyone turning to watch us. O God what utter amazing ruddy bliss to no longer be a menial. And once more step like a country gent up these steps. To feel extremely chipper on the station platform, being so much socially uplifted by the journey in the great motor car. And Awfully Stupid was extremely bouncy himself as we regarded these other travellers and he stood there legs astride and a little parcel held behind his back.

‘But what Kildare, will you do in Dublin.’

‘I shall Kelly go straight to the tailors and then, the weather permitting, I shall go to the races.’

‘What about our most marvellous horse, Tinkers Revenge that will soon be running in the big races.’

‘Well he was dead last in his last race, Kelly.’

‘But his blood lines go back to the great stallion Dancer. That was only his second race and was only an outing.’

‘Well, of course. I shall wager on him. I’m so glad you reminded me. One gets into such a dither Kelly. Been rather a lot happening recently.’

‘The odds should be staggeringly good.’

‘Well in that case I shall take perhaps a staggering risk.’

‘You know Kildare, in my play about you. That’s how I’ve drawn your character. As a chap who would take a risk. Even a suicidal one.’

‘Well I’m not sure that quality is exactly native to my character Kelly. Mostly it’s rather been with me that I’ve had no other choice than to be blatantly suicidal.’

‘Well I feel that you have the true air of a hero. And I do so admire your seemingly endless nerve.’

‘I’m not quite so sure that’s particularly flattering Kelly.’

‘Well I mean the way you’ve run away. Fought the Presidium. And have rather taken care of yourself the way you do. I mean imagine, being able to be a stable lad. A butler. And an aristocrat all wrapped up in one.’

‘It has however rather taxed my acting ability Kelly. But damn it all, aren’t we just as some great playwright or someone said, actors on a stage.’

‘O jolly right but you, you’re real as well. And I should like to continue to know you into the future.’

‘That is very complimentary Kelly, and I must say that I am rather glad to hear of something which elevates rather than deflates these days.’

A breeze gusting across the train tracks. From the west still come the clouds. And just over the wall one sees the elegant motor car parked waiting outside this grey stone station. The choo choo throb of the train. The bud tips pushing out on the flowers. None the worse really after my weeks of work in Kelly’s father’s stables. Indeed I feel quite improved in strength. And absolutely able for the world.

Darcy Dancer looking down into the smiling face of Kelly from an open window of a first class compartment. What a pity he doesn’t have another box of fudge. I could munch contentedly on my journey. The station master blowing his whistle. Waves his green flag. Train doors bang shut.

‘Goodbye Kelly, and thank you.’

‘Goodbye Kildare. And here. I brought this for you.’

Train moving. Kildare reaching out for the neat little parcel. Take it safely in one’s hands. Look back. Kelly waving. The terrace of thatched cottages of this village go by. Take a soft seat. Put my head back on the white head linen. And find a smile from my one fellow passenger who is nicely done up in tweeds. Clank slowly now past a long platform of cattle pens. Cross a river and a canal. Stations named Sallins and Straffan. Rain streaks the glass. Like little stabs one feels in the heart. Never see my sisters again. Nor hear Crooks shuffling through the house. Or Foxy scream oaths at beasts. Or the splendid sight of Miss von B’s bottom. Even when those ripe mounds were so snugly held in her white riding breeches as she stood warming in front of the hall fire of Andromeda Park. And that sad man. Good old Sexton. In his potting shed. A half smile in his one eye. Discoursing-on the affairs of the world. That one could be dignified by bleakness and solitude. Which helped to conquer the pessimism of each day in the world. And kept the snobbery vanity and insincerity at bay. And above all Master Reginald, you need confidence. And I’ll tell you what that is in a hurry. Haven’t I read all the great Irish thinkers and metaphysicians from Johannes Scottus Erivgena at the court of Charles the Bald in France right down to the latest from Berkeley. And let me tell you, not one of them knew better than a cow does when she goes to shelter behind a hedge in a winter’s gale. And none of them could give you a better definition of confidence than I’m giving you now. It’s a pound sterling in your pocket.

Darcy Dancer crossing his legs. The thin white stripes in my trousers. The click clack of a train track. And now open up Kelly’s packet. And from its smell it seems. And it is.

Chocolate

Fudge

From

Bewley’s

As the train rumbled chugging along the brow of the Liffey valley one was feeling as marvellous as one was terrified. On the rich winter green hillsides stood big country houses mournfully grey. The western clouds drizzling out all their rain. One was nearly tempted to travel third class but my sense of dignity overcame my parsimony. And pleasantly, my compartment companion was a most well spoken horse person.

‘Do you mind young man if I smoke a cigar.’

‘No, indeed, I quite enjoy cigar smoke.’

A damn lie of course. But the gentleman’s manner was so agreeable that one was eager to acquiesce to his wishes. He was a member of the Turf Club. Suggested I look him up any time. My god, horses did make friends for one. And we most interestedly discussed hunting, racing and a splendid deed or two of this man’s well known thoroughbreds. Until one could see the Wellington Monument peeking up in the sky in the Phoenix Park.

Darcy Dancer at the kerb outside the station. Asserting himself to the forefront of some very lackadaisical country people being archly warned aside by those sporting their tweedy elegance. The rustics with their belongings trussed up with broken straps and string. And mostly looking as if someone had upon their arrival, hammered them senseless with a sledge on the head.

‘Are you waiting for a cab.’

‘Ah sir you might say we’re in no hurry now.’

To a blonde tweedy lady I had to administer a few I beg your pardons before she would await her turn. When a red nosed tinkerish looking Jarvey with a rather scrawny mare pulled up. In my most gentlemanly fashion I ushered these three older country people just behind to proceed ahead of me. But they nodded in eight directions and looked up at the sky in four more as if asking every saint in heaven for assistance and then urged me with their country voices to take the horsecab.

‘Ah it’s soon enough later for the likes of us.’

Helping me up, they closed the cab door behind me. In their little lonely dark group they seemed so pleased to be left just where they stood. Staring up at the grey clouds. Looking all round them in wonderment. A soft drizzle falling. And one nearly weeps for the love of such folk. So unarmed against the fashions and smartness of the world. And one took not a little comfort from the blonde tweedy lady who was now angrily shrieking.