J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

The huge bulk of Seamus as he bent to squeeze into the front seat of the car. Two handed blows of the hurling stick raining on his shoulders. Milo slipping in beside him and Sean getting in the back. The slam of car doors. Revving the engine. Backwards towards Dublin.

"What kind of woman is this at all."

"Sure let's get the hell out of here and find that out later."

"Watch it Seamus, watch it, she's coming at the windscreen. Sure God help us we'd need all the Mohammedans we could muster to save us from that one."

"Eegits. Eegits. Buffoons. Get that rapist out of my life."

"Sure I think your woman is mental if you ask me."

"Ah Jesus I'm not asking anything but to get the hell out of here fast. Would you put the accelerator to the floor. She'd hit the pope in the haggis, that one would."

The vehicle reversing along the curving gravel drive. Sean with the torches shining rearwards out the back window. Your woman in the headlights. Smashing blows on the bonnet with the hurling stick. A palm tree passing calmly. A sign on the gate. Happiness. The little car backing now out on to the road. Back in the shadows madam stands. Her eyes looking wild. Her last gesture suggestive.

"Now what would your man have married a one like that, would you tell me Seamus."

"Sure the heart does a lot of strange things. Who knows he might have married her for her beauty. She would have been a stout heifer in her time."

"Ah now, none of that."

"Sure praise God there's got to be some kind of amenability between man and woman, as between a bull and heifer, or none of us would be here at all."

"Your woman back there was verging on the obscenity. It's been a hard enough night. How's your man Sean, is he bearing up. Poor chap. We got there in the nick of time. The likes of her would have killed us all. Try the Gaelic on him Sean."

"Mise le mas."

"Sola juvat virtus."

"Ah that's grand, he's talking, your fearsome woman must have struck him dumb. And isn't he speaking the language of the pope. He's a white Italian gentleman, sure as your foot."

The light of a grey dawn. The moist air blowing in the open window. The police car passing along a river. Dear me the Dodder was not so far away. Just down those green banks. Over there, walls of a flour mill. These cross roads and they say Ballsbridge.

"How do you like that Seamus, the woman says she's a member now of the Royal Dublin Society. Why the place would be a wasteland by now if your woman was let loose in there."

A clanging bell. The sound of the tram. There it is. All lighted and yellow and warm. Squealing on its tracks. Stopping for its little group of passengers. To take peacefully into town. The toy city awakes. As I sit here apprehended by police. Jail bars ahead. Uncle Edouard said, be always handsome witty and brave. To police and lawyers and many others too, my dear boy, make no sound that can be used against you. Try never to teach the world a lesson, for they will forget it within the week. Be honest till the temptation comes to tell the truth. Then dear boy it is time, believe me, to say nothing. Keep your wine cellar cool. The bowel clear. The foreskin clean. Use soap perfumed of the fern.

Merrion Square. Odd windows lit. Past Lincoln Place. The back lonely gate of Trinity. Down there just a little bit. The Landship moored. I am far too young to start a criminal career. Hold back my voice. Through the wet streets of Dublin. Just some little time more. Kneeling so many years ago. On a carefree carpet of the Palais Royal. When all Dublin and Ireland came as sunshine to me. Through the little green windows of Bella's eyes. Her soft hand touching my face. And Bella you ran from me. On my way here when all I found was rain. Crossing college squares huddled in one's gown. The moisture dripping dropping down. The chill creeping across the floors. Seeping out of walls. I screamed once a dark lonely Sunday in Grafton Street to stop it, stop it. I can't stand more. I prayed in college chapel with others cold and shivering. Singing out against the mortal cold. I hoped that candle light would help. No hell is under Ireland. Of that they're surely right. They say instead, a dark daughter. The country at the end of the earth. The oldest place.

Of the great

Long hair

That hangs

To cover up

All shame.

Past the safe walls and fence of Trinity. A grey stone building. The car stopped. Balthazar B led up the steps shivering. Wrapped in a blanket. Early nosed newsboys asking what's your man's crime. Did he do in his mother.

A sallow dusty room. Notices tacked to walls and scarred bulletin boards. Hungry shouts from corridors within. A pure voice singing like a bird. And words, would you live on woman's earnings, would you give up work for good. By a fire glowing Balthazar B sat on a worn bench and hung his silky blond head. A cup of tea was brought. And a man who sat away behind a long counter asked over and over in his sundry languages. What's your name.

"Sure tell us something, you're not to come to any harm.

Seamus did you try the Dutch with him at all."

"Wedid.?

"Ah your man is Urdu or Icelandic."

"We'll give him the Danish then. God morgen, ja, tak. Ah it's no use. Sure if he was a Dane he'd be feeling right at home."

"He must speak something."

"We got the Latin out of him when we tried the Gaelic.

But Milo just came in with the translation a minute ago. And your man says in the Latin virtue alone assists one."

"Is that a fact now."

"That's a fact."

"Well I wouldn't want to depend upon that one in me wanderings through life, I can tell you. We're sending over to Trinity for a professor of languages."

Balthazar looking up. One can delay no longer. Time to give an inkling. The police faces turning. Waiting. As Balthazar reaches into his pocket. Withdrawing a notebook and tearing out a piece of paper. And writing. Ich bin Balthazar B. Ich bin ein Student an der Trinitas Universitas. Mein Tutor ist Professor Elegant.

"Ah will you look at that now. That's a relief. It's German. Fd recognise it anywhere. Shouldn't we have known by the blond hair he was from beyond the Rhine. Driven westwards by the war. Thank God we didn't have to use the Serbo Croat. We've your man's fixed address at last."

"It was the Lettish I was afraid of meself."

"Go on Milo now. Nip and get your Professor Elegant. We'll clear up this mystery. Not a moment to waste. Your man there looks like catching his death."

"Right captain. I am this second gone so fast that I am back now and ready to go again."

The telephone ringing. The sergeant picking it up. Looking out across the dusty sallow walled room. Cigarette burnings on counters and benches. Sergeant's eyes looking from face to face. As he puts the phone back on its hook.

"That was the raped herself on the phone. She has no marks of violence about her person but she's been on to the newspapers with the story all the same. It's been some night. We have a man back there singing in the cells. He was at the gates of Trinity, making an unholy fuss. Going to fight the whole college. Didn't we get over to him and he was going to fight the lot of us as well. We closed with him. Just a touch of a stick across the backside did he feel and he lay down on the roadway. Wouldn't get up. He was going to take the North by storm. And we had to take him by the arms and legs back here. The lad has a fine singing voice. Sure he could be kicking a gateway in an opera and be getting paid for it."

The door opening to the smoky room. The early morning sounds of the city. Ding ding. The bells of passing bicycles. Buses pulling away to go out along a southern coast. And in grey herringbone overcoat. Black silk tie against cream silk shirt. His early morning face scrubbed and new. Entered Balthazar B's tutor.