J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

"I'd love to."

Waving from the gate. This high iron fence set in the stone. Goodbye grey house back in the shadows somewhere. Up there on the first floor will be your bedroom, Fitzdare. At night do you stand and look out over the gardens. And see dreams in the branches of the trees. Dying old men to whom you give your pale hand. Listen to their tales of life. Of wives long dead. Of scattering many children. And they see your splendid blue white beauty with a last gratefulness in their dim eyes. Wrap up their scrawny bones from bed. Pack them away in the ground.

Balthazar B this night rode the roaring tram back to Dublin. In mild darkness and an eastern breeze from sea. Along the Merrion Road. To go lighted and merry on this iron wheeled vehicle. And at the bridge to alight down the steps from the greeny upholstered seats. As the father of one child.

Balthazar strolled along the Grand Canal Dock. By dark pouring waters and shimmering light. Past the bridge into Rings End and Irishtown. It says Shelbourne on that pub. The pleasure of being all alone with the air gently on the face. Her mother burned to death in fire. Across that waste ground, ships setting sail for sea. Lighted portholes. Never know which is red for port or green for starboard. Just see the blue eyes and black hair of you Fitzdare. Sparkle of your teeth. All your grace. Now I walk back again. To look at these great walls of blackened bricks. The gas works. Sooty grime and fire in there through these bars. Dark shadows. Men moving with their lighted ends of cigarettes. Fitzdare. Will ever we wed. All flowing veils. Trumpets blow out across England to our country house in Somerset. Away in the soft green peace Fitzdare. You will touch the stems of flowers every day. On hall stands through the house. Bring your horses with you. We'll fox them all at Ascot.

Misery Hill. A name down these black streets. And a walk along here by the water on a narrow edge of granite by this plank wall of a coal bunker. And suddenly a shadow is looming up above my head. A figure with an arm raised and in a hand a lump of coal. Good God. Someone to kill me. Knock me on the head. That I would fall to this granite, to take my money and roll me into the greasy water.

Balthazar raised up a shielding arm. And the figure high in the bunker teetered and fell from sight. An old grey bewhiskered face. Staring and mad. And all I can do is run. Away from here. To the Liffey. By all the long rusting sides of ships. And rats nipping over the wet gleaming cobble stones.

Balthazar B chased along the Quay, chest choked with a beating heart. Detouring from walls, shadowy cranes and dark doorways. Heading west for the life and lights of the city. Past gangways up to merchant ships. White shirted figures in the portholes. Others leaning with lighted cigarettes looking down from the ship's railings. A warehouse ahead. Keep out on the clear road. Away from harm.

At the corner of the shed Balthazar B gasped as he bumped into and confronted a figure. Of strange lighted eyes. And a round suddenly smiling face, so unsurprised.

"Beefy."

"Balthazar."

"Beefy what are you doing here, you frightened the life out of me, I was nearly murdered a few minutes ago."

"I am looking for sin."

Balthazar staring at these two unflickering globes. Jacket askew on his shoulders. Tie loosened from his collar. All the strange rumours. About this man. Who reads divinity. That Fitzdare would never say. To find him here. As he finds me.

"I was nearly hit on the head with a lump of coal."

"Dear boy. There are no rules down here on the Quay. No rules. Do you understand. I have come for sin. I know where to find it. Come with me."

"Beefy what do you mean."

"Deepest most sordid sin. I have been to the latrines. But I am randy again. I have other places too. Come. The deepest and most sordid sin purifies. I bugger old men. I lay old ladies. Some of them are dying when I do it."

Balthazar looking into these burning eyes. A tremor of fear takes a fluttering hold of the heart. The lips smile. A ship hoots.

"My God Beefy, I don't know what to say."

"My pleasures are utterly beautiful Balthazar. Sacred. I mingle my elegance with their wretchedness. This city is a sewer flowing with rancor and decomposed flesh, rotting through all these streets. Disease eats out these hearts. Bodies full of poison. I come with my beauty. I bugger them. And do appalling things. And I invite you to come too.' "I was rather planning an early evening."

"I shock you."

"You terrify me out of my wits, Beefy."

"Ah. I thought so. But I will introduce you slowly to the pleasurings. Very slowly. You will thank me. When you get into the grisliness. That you can savour such things as I can show you. The sin. I love the sin. That's what I most desire. You look so left out of it all Balthazar."

"Would you care to come back to my rooms with me and have some cocoa Beefy."

Along the Liffey quays this night, puddles of water on the cobble stoned street. Lonely lamplights. Coal dust and barrels, crates and bundles of wire. Great shadow of the gas tank rearing in the sky. A whiff and sniff and smell of pine timber. Beefy reaching up his arm to put a hand on Balthazar's shoulder. To look with easy warm eyes on this pale blond apprehensive face.

"Balthazar, my dear man. I am most awfully sorry. I could not resist to shock you. Do you know you are a most handsome fellow. You are in fact very beautiful. Your beauty would lend so well to my planned defilement. Look at you. Fve never seen anything like your saintliness. Have you been seeing Miss Fitzdare."

"I had lunch with Miss Fitzdare and her aunt and uncle."

"O my God how charming. Did you sit poised on the settee."

"Yes."

"Did Miss Fitzdare tinkle the wires of her harpsicord."

"Yes."

"I knew it. For joy. I knew it. She is a lovely creature. But think what wonderful defilement you could lend your spirit to tonight. Sunday. After all the prayers are said. But I think it's so splendid. You and Fitzdare. It crucifies me, your blond and her black beauty. O my God."

"Please come and have cocoa, Beefy."

Wild shadows against a sky faintly purple. Clouds rolling with moonlit edges. The blast of a ship's whistle. A hawser splashing in the water. Up in the crystal night the ship's red light. Trembling engines as the great black silhouette moves out on the flowing river.

"Ah but I must go. Upon my appointed rounds."

"I have cream to go on top of the cocoa."

"I must not be distracted from my mission. Sinful desire consumes me. The most malodorous and desecrated defilement is waiting. Only fifteen steps away. Come. Please. Just along here. Let me show you. You see nothing. But wait. We go now up into this doorway. It will amaze you. You will thrill to this creature."

An opening broken door up wide greasy granite steps. A stench of death. The choking wail and sob of a child. A lurking face. A girl. Half her face in the light. A tiny bow of ribbon tied in her hair. Her hands clutching a broken black shiny bag.

"Ah Balthazar this is my queen. She waits for me here. Her name is Rebecca. Isn't she beautiful. But she does not think so herself. But Rebecca, you are."

"Go on now I'm not."

"Rebecca, I want you to meet my friend. He is beautiful too, isn't he."

"Ah he is."

"But it is I who have a horn on me this evil night. Rebecca you have the most splendid eyes to gaze upon this horn of mine."

"O go on with you I think you're crazy."

"And you have limbs. Fine limbs. I could eat up your white beauty Rebecca you know that I could, don't you. Wait Bal-thazar, don't go. You must not leave. Rebecca will fetch her sister for you."

"Ah sure you've got the gentleman upset, can't you see he's upset.'

"Balthazar you're not upset. I would never want that. Isn't it marvellous here."