J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

"Stand up Beefy."

"Sorry sir, just keeping up with my ethics."

"This is not over yet."

"O."

"I will get to the bottom of this. Meanwhile that money is to be put properly where it belongs, in a bank."

"I don't trust banks sir."

"I don't care whom you trust. Get that money out of here.

Who is your tutor."

"Professor Elegant sir."

"And yours, Mr. B."

"Professor Elegant sir."

"Professor Elegant has his work cut out. Be at my office tomorrow at three o'clock, both of you."

"Sir are you going."

"What I do is not of your concern."

"I just thought sir that you should know there is something awfully strange out there up in a tree. If you look out the window sir."

The Proctor pushing apart the drapes. Peering out into the night. Taking a torch from under arm and shining it out the window. Turning back to these two attending porters awaiting their further instruction. To keep the college clear of misdemeanour. To track down abductors. Rout out the harbourers of females laid liberally on for riotous and indecent behaviour.

"Porters, go fetch that man out of that tree. Who seems to find matters in here so amusing. I should not smile Beefy, I'm not by any means finished with you. I am not satisfied that there is not something quite fishy here."

"I understand sir, completely."

"This university is not some kind of brothel.' "I quite agree sir. No brothel here. And I want you to know sir, that although it might not at this moment seem very evident to you, I know that my redeemer liveth. Sir.' "O quite. You're going to need him. Be assured of that."

Beefy joyfully leaping to the door. To put to the bolts once more. And a finger up to his lips. At the departing sound of steps down the wooden stairs. To the window now, they could see down to the foot of the tree. In the lightly descending rain the Proctor and porters waiting. In torch light and lantern glow. A student scrabbling down to the ground with long flowing hair. Brushing bark from his person. Turning to point up at this window. As one and all nip back.

"That evil snooping scoundrel. Been scrounging around me for months. One doesn't mind his constantly shitting and pissing out his window after dark. But as a leech on my life. Never."

"Let us out of here."

"O my God, the girls. Please stay right where you are and don't move till I tell you."

"We want to come out of here."

"Not yet. You must lie low for just a while longer. Ah Balthazar you are quite a person under fire. However, be ready, the last tribulation is about to unfold. An old college tradition. In circumstances such as this. They go away. For a few minutes. And then when one is up to one's neck again in lewd gymnastic indecency. They come crashing in the door. Not nice. So we'll just sit here at the table. Take up the tutoring where last left. Ah here we are, a little something on the constitution of Athens."

The door came asunder. With splintering door jambs and plaster. Three porters pouring through. Balthazar jumping to his feet emitting a slight shriek. Beefy relighting his cigar gone out in the former festivities. The third porter new to matters rushing the bedroom. Reappearing vacant faced and bemused. Beefy blowing a large smoke ring across the room. Which wreathed his granny's portrait and smashed out in wavering billows against the wall. Balthazar B with his hand held against his lower throat sat down again.

"Are you porters done. Dark beadles of injustice. How dare you burst in in this manner. Bringing plaster with you. Causing nuisance to a man who will one day follow quite closely upon the heels of Christ. He was an awfully good walker before they tacked him up."

"We are under orders sir."

"Well then. New orders. Vamoose. Take your lot out into the night. O yes, the Provost will hear of this. My trustees will certainly be assembling in front of the Bank of England over there in the land of fair play. And by God when the drummer begins to strike a cadence, they will march to the Holyhead, stepping of course right over Wales. Do you hear me. Put down that crowbar. Quite untoward. My trustees will be on the night boat soon and by God they will be scribbling out writs and the like, as well as many other beribboned documents."

"Very well sir, very well."

"You know I happen to be a scholar."

"Yes sir."

"Ranking of the fifth rank in this college. And a gentleman of the choir."

"We do sir know this.' "Scholar in classics, as well as a man who is to take holy orders. And you chaps break down doors and visit indiscriminate injury to the sensibilities of myself and Prince B. Your Highness my profound apologies. As your host one wants so much to blot out horrendous spiritual bruises which smite one in one's chambers. Quite odious."

"We are quite sorry sir to have incommoded you."

"All right. We all, here present, know our redeemer liveth. Let that suffice. I am tired."

"Goodnight sir."

Porters departing silent and open mouthed. Beefy examining his busted door. Sad bolts and latches hanging, screws twisted out of the splintered wood.

"Don't you find this all terribly unrefreshing Balthazar. Look what they've done to my poor door. What a waste of their broken shoulders to think they could outwit Beefy. Infantry captain extraordinary. I think cannibalism is next on my calendar of lusts."

"Let us out of here."

"Right with you girls now."

Beefy at the turf bin. Lifting up the lid top. Displaying the brown piles of turf. His hand choosing a crumbling piece.

"Quite real. You see Balthazar. Now. We close this up. And here, come watch, undo this and we draw back a little secret door. And the two morsels of our delight. Good evening girls."

In the shadows, sitting upon a low bench. Breda and Rebecca grim faced and unglad. Shuffling out sideways. Fitter patter of the rain. And the wind rising. The scullery window ashake. Helping the ladies back into the little game. Beefy so gallantly plays. With rules writ. For black bliss. Oblique and naughty. Smiling he bows. This boy of all those years ago. Whose purest voice raised such sweet threnody to sound across meadows blending the lightest green with daisies and buttercups. Taken by his friendly hand through woodlands gently away from fear. He made my Tillie well again.

"Get us out of here, I want to be gone out of here altogether."

"Girls I myself would dearly like to be lost at this moment. Amid the gaieties of the London season if possible. After all the recent rattings. Buggering up the stylish sauciness I had so hoped was to be our lot. And still can be."

"Til not be arrested in this college you chancer."

"Rebecca that's not an awfully nice thing to say. After risking all to keep you safe from harm. Allow me to take this strap from your tempting shoulder."

"You're the devil himself, you are."

"Please. Both of you are my honoured guests. Good grief. Abandon ship. The windows."

A woeful crash. The door falling flat into Beefy's chambers. Over it tramping three porters. A wave of dust rising. The Proctor rigid at the disembowelled entrance. All triumph buried unseen in the sad face. The sound of doors opening on the staircase landings below. To see what the earthquake is about. Windows squeaking, and others slamming shut. A college awake this night. For an awarding of a degree. In harlotry.

"Very well. I apologise to both of you young ladies. I'm sure you've been misled here. You Beefy, and you Mr. B. Attend tomorrow at three. My office. I shall appreciate your escorting these young ladies, again with my apologies, out of the university. A taxi has been summoned. That is all. Goodnight."

A roll of drums beating. Cannons firing salvos. In a coffin two blank parchments. Of ungranted degrees. Drawn on a gun carriage. Hooves echoing their clatter up and down Dublin streets. Sorrowing people wave their little flags and tap their tears. The wind awakes and blows. Bends and flattens highland grass. The bagpipes play. A purple music across the heather. Go down to death bravely. When you go. Neither to weep nor smile. Tomorrow will be a yesterday when nothing mattered at all. It rains tonight. This bishop born Beefy.