J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

"Yes sir."

"Good show. Got a bit there decanted. Laid down when I was a subaltern. Yes. A man's best years you know are the thirties. Plenty of polo, outdoors, that's the way of life. The end comes at fifty. You know then there's no going back. If 183 you don't go forward you don't go damn anywhere. What. Yes after fifty it's all over, you know."

"O Frederic, really."

"Can't overlook the facts Miriam. A man's a man till fifty. You might stretch it a year this way or that but largely speaking, that's when a man puts away his gun. Takes out his port. Of course a lot of it is in the mind you know. Half the battle is keeping up appearances. And appearances be damned as well. A shrew for its weight is more fierce than a tiger. It will seize upon a worm and devour it in an instant."

"Frederic please, not while we're eating."

"Shrew of course will easily die of shock. Poor little fellows. Now I don't suppose either of you two zoologists knew that one."

"No sir, that's fascinating."

"Eat their own weight in food every three hours."

"Now Frederic that's not a pleasing subject."

"There you are my boy. Get your innings in while you're young. Ladyfolk have you later on you know. Hound you about a bit. O we'll wait till the reincarnation. Hope I get a good regiment. Cat's got your tongue Elizabeth."

"No uncle. I'm just amused as I always am at your chatter."

"O ravings of a poor old soldier. But when I was a boy we had to tow the line. Not like these days. My father lined us up as boys. Hair had to be properly combed. Hands clean both sides. Chores done at six fifteen A.M. None of your nonsense. Walk with a straight back. See your face in the tip of your shoes or my goodness you would soon get what for across your what you sit on. Where did you serve my boy."

"I was a friendly alien sir. French."

"Pity. The discipline, routine. Good for every lad you know. Not to be shunned. Have a good swallow more now of that wine. One of the lingering pleasures. If one leaves out bridge. We had an awfully funny situation out here not too long ago. Chaps were full of it at the club. Said the papers played it up marvellously. One of your fellow students. Went completely haywire. They thought it was the yellow men from the East. When it was only a chap got lost in the gardens. Likely story. Caused quite a bit of stir.'

The flowing blood up to Miss Fitzdare's pallid face. Her cheeks blossoming bright red. The General sawing across a grey slab of lamb, Miriam ringing the little bell at her place. And the vast breasted servant called Briget going round with the wine once more. Dripping a drop on Balthazar's silk cuff. Briget put her fingers to her lips.

"O excuse me sir."

A smile from Balthazar. As a golden clock on the mantel rings chimes. A portrait of a lady in scarlet robes and ermine. The General clears his throat in his napkin. Miss Fitzdare's face goes crimson again.

"Balthazar, do please say if you would like more lamb.' "Thank you I have had a sufficiency."

"Come come my boy. From my memory of rooms at Trinity it's damn chilly there. A person needs a good Sunday lunch. In my time scholars used to come charging through college on horseback waving sabres a propos of nothing at all. But a deuced good fright thrown into servants and porters. Junior Dean got killed, hit on the head with a grate. Some rough times indeed. Wasn't safe at night, college bloods armed with daggers. Just a little that was before my time. But the chaps left their mark."

Balthazar B remaining to light a cigar with the General at table. As they sampled port. The ladies lightfooted back to the withdrawing room. And there came the tinkle of the harpsicord. Purple shadows of the evening stretching out across the gardens. An old fading moon blunted in the sky. "You know my boy, you'll pardon me I'm an interfering old rascal. Meddle in right where I have no business to. But our Elizabeth has taken a great interest in you. Took us long enough to get her to get you here. Fine girl. Miriam and I love having her with us. She has a wonderful nature that girl. How many of your women these days would spend three afternoons and evenings in the poor wards. Not many I can tell you. Yes, go down the aisles of some of them. Only way they know whether a wretched creature is dead is to smell them. Often said it's not the kind of work for a young lady. She won't listen, insists going right on. Can't say she's wrong to go her own way. Some of these people haven't been out of their garments all their lives. Come into hospital, can't get the clothes off them. Here, little more port for you."

'Thank you sir."

"They have to cut the clothes off. Put a sling around them and with a derrick they dip them in a vat. Sometimes the shock's too much. These old creatures get so frightened they die on the spot. Nothing as bad as it was in India but still pretty bad. Prostitutes in off the streets, when they get a cure they stay on as nurses to pay off their debt. You know about Elizabeth's work."

"No sir, I'm afraid I don't."

"O. Perhaps I've breached a confidence. Hope not. Strange girl our Elizabeth. Very rare girl."

"Yes she is sir."

"Looks like her mother. Mother died you know. Burned up in a fire. Quite awful. Elizabeth was only twelve. Poor little creature cried for weeks. We had her here. Beautiful woman her mother. Great horsewoman. Cost her her life. Saving horses in a burning stable. Brave woman. Elizabeth's the same. Well come now, that's been enough of this chitter chatter. Shall we join the ladies. Then we'll take you up. Might spot Mars on the horizon. Give it another hour or so."

The General rising. Neatly folding and rolling his napkin, pushing it in its silver ring. So strangely reminiscent of Beefy. There seems no end of Miss Fitzdare. And all explained, those times when I was rather bitter lipped. Hoping I would have nerve enough to ask her come for tea. Or join me at the Shelbourne Rooms for drinks. Thought there was some other man. Those afternoons she disappears. Like the one who gave her cakes in Mitchell's. And like another who stared at her during zoology practical. Rushing to give her sharpened pencils, to lend a scalpel or hold the door for her. Smiling eagerly and remarking of the weather. And once as I was leaving he came pushing behind me, punching a fist into my back. I turned and he gave an unpleasant sneer and smirk. I suddenly wished I had muscles. Big fists to smite him one upon the intelligence. Instead I raised my eyebrow, and stood aside to let him pass if he pleased. And angered more he stood on the gravel, eyes smouldering. Then one Sunday Beefy said he had seen this ruffian in a cinema in O'Connell Street waiting with Miss Fitzdare.

Now I walk with her. And touch her hand. As we go about in the district. After lunch and harpsicord. Along Sydney Parade Avenue. To the strand of Dublin Bay. The tide out across the strange grey flatlands and scattering sea birds. We step down the granite steps to the sand. Make footprints there. A grey whiteness across the water to Howth. Night comes east. I want to say marry me.

And returning to the big house. To go up a spiral stair to a great room. Gleaming brass knobs and telescope. Copper domed roof. A shutter opened at the sky. The General twirling handles. Miss Fitzdare laughing at my surprise. At the craters in the moon and the orange sparkling light of Mars. At seven at the door. Her white slender fingers and gleaming nails. Leaning against the cut stone, Miss Fitzdare said goodbye.

"I hope it wasn't all too dull for you."

"I enjoyed every moment. Thank you so much for having me.' "Be careful how you go now."

"Heh heh. I shall keep to the tram tracks. See you tomorrow. At lectures. I'm feeling academic again. Do thank your uncle for showing me his stars. And I should be delighted if you would come and have tea at my rooms."