J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

"O God my lad. What makes you cry."

"I'm dying."

"Ah surely you are."

"And that's so terribly sad."

"Ah not so in the land where everybody does it. The only thing they're good at at all. Come lie now with your head here. A woman's breast is the best place for you feeling like that. What's troubling you."

"I don't know."

"There's something deep is troubling you. The way the tears come welling up. Otherwise dying would be your only worry. I've spent years terrified of my last moments. With the hand of God waiting up there to slap me across the face. And me ready to give back to him a kick in the shins he wouldn't soon forget. One day soon enough my time will come. I won't have energy left to care. Cuddle in close to me. You're like the little boy I had once. In my arms but three short days. My father was a cobbler. Drank us out of hearth and home. When he wasn't doing that he was beating my mother with his fists and us little kids with a razor strop. Or screaming round with the pain of hammering his thumb. There was howling all day long. My uncle kept the farm in Cavan. I was sent out there to fatten up they thought I was going to die. I'd be back and forth to Irishtown. I liked Cavan and the country ways. The little beauties. Tadpoles and toads. Catching eels in the grass. Gave me a fright when I first saw one of them. I was frightened it was a snake. My uncle got me a situation in a hotel away in Kerry. A beautiful young priest on his holidays stopped me in the hall. I was carrying an armful of sheets. He said was I behaving myself. Had I been yet to Lourdes. I said I had not. He says did I hear tell of the talk of the scandal up the coast. A bunch of Americans in a castle raising cain. He says to me was I sure I wasn't up there. Where poor innocents had already been impurely enslaved. I looked at him. He was as serious as they come. Wanted to know of my company keeping, whether I was thinking of getting married or did I think I had a vocation. I said yes, carrying sheets like I am doing this minute. O he was a smarmer. He said how is your immortal soul. I said fine thanks. He asked if my room where I slept was of a hygienic standard. I laughed in his face. But God it wasn't long before he was up there hearing my confession as we sat on the side of the bed. I am telling you my life's story. And maybe you're dying in my arms."

"I'm feeling a little better thank you."

"It's a woman's breast every time. To put a little comfort in a man. A woman's dream, you are. I had my dream ruined soon enough. Dominic was the priest's name. Fie says to me he says blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God. Carrying on like your friend Beefy. Giving out the religion before taking out the other thing. I was daft enough. He said have you had a holy familiarity with God my child. I said who do you think you're talking to I said. He said don't be boastful to me. Imagine. Boastful. Says he, God's divine plan is that one day you should be a mother, my child. I told him get out of the room as the housekeeper was coming. That scared him across to the window. He nearly went through only it was four floors up. Left him time enough to tell me not to let self abuse mar my immaculate purity. Or become a ruined temple as he put it. Well he marred it three days later. Busted the door of the temple. And a black car comes collects him away. Leaving me pregnant. And hounded by nuns trying to lynch me with rosary beads. I was away from there. Went by lane-ways, fields and carts all the way to Dublin. Sleeping in the hay at night. Milking a cow I'd catch in the morning. Munching an apple I'd find. Or a turnip out of a field. He put his religion into me. And I said to him to look me up on judgment day and mind not to trip on the last step to heaven. Ah you're cheering up now. That was a smile. For such a sad story. Maybe you're not dying."

"What happened to you in Dublin."

"Ah it was miserable enough. I found I had not a friend in the world. Went from door to door. For any kind of work. But before I left for Dublin at all I went by the castle the priest was telling me about. The scandal was unabated they said, raging within the walls. But the clergy had it watched. The Americans were in there, protected by insurgents. The whole countryside agog with the goings on. With me as scullery maid in a house in Fitzwilliam Square, sure I was destitute. Working seven in the morning till eight at night for twenty seven and six a week. I stole my fare out of the good lady's handbag on the evening I took the boat to England. Ah God I had a little boy. The sweetest little thing. Taken out of my arms. He was gone away from me to a better life I suppose. Missing the love of a mother. They said he was cursed, the son of a priest. I tore at the eyes of the first nun they let near me. Ripped her rosary out of her hands as she was at the bed praying to save my soul. Found a job as a barmaid up the Edgeware Road. Until one day my uncle from Cavan walked in. Nice as you please. Ah poor lad, are you going to sleep on me there."

"No. Listening."

"I couldn't tell a word of this to anyone before. Makes me laugh that I feel at home with a pagan."

"I'm not pagan."

"Ah it doesn't matter. Would you be able for a little breakfast in awhile."

"I think so."

"I'll go down there and use a few of their rashers of bacon and old hen's eggs before they, the two of them, know what hit them."

"What happened when your uncle found you in the Edge-ware Road.'

"You're an interested one. The kind as might write a book. He came in, like I said. Did the uncle. Sat down at the bar and took off his cap and scratched his head. He put the cap back on again and wagged his head from side to side. Like a monkey in a zoo. I said to meself what's this now. Have they come from Cavan to string me up on the cross. I served him without a word, he could have been a wall in Jerusalem. He was having pints of cider. Fd put one before him and he would look straight up at the ceiling staring at one spot. Then he would say out loud with everyone looking at him. It's so. Four times and four pints till I couldn't stand it anymore. Staring up at the ceiling and saying, it's so. I came up to him across the bar and I says what's so. And he looks back up at the ceiling again. I left him to it. Every ten minutes till closing time, up at the ceiling he'd look and say it's so. Well he did that five nights running. I lost my appetite and thought I was dying. The bar was full of Irish like himself. Saying ah your man's behaviour is quite correct you know, what's wrong about saying it's so. If it isn't so, someone else can say so, they said. The stupid eegits. Well on the Saturday night he came in again. I said how would you like to see me selling myself down around the Piccadilly I said. I took the pint of cider and threw it in his face. I said there that's so. It was the first laugh I had for months. And that's exactly what I did, I went down to the Piccadilly. I nearly had my face cut open. And just as I was going to try the Bayswater Road instead, a nice gentleman from Pakistan came along. I was living in a filthy basement hovel in Paddington. He bought me presents and I got a good bed sitter. I nearly landed on my feet. Sure I had a radio bought. It was a miracle lying there listening to the music. I can play some of the programs over in my head now. But one morning I woke up and found myself answering questions to the police. Your man was an embezzler. Known in other circles as the Tricky Turk. Starting companies all over London. He was good to me and I didn't worry. If it wasn't for him I'd be ruined forever as a woman. The kindnesses he gave me brought back my self respect. He had an Irish accomplice educated at Clongowes Wood College. To give the whole fraud a style as you might say. He was a grand man was the accomplice, only decent Irishman I ever met. When he laughed the ceiling would shake. He went by the name of Percy. He had another name of Ferdinand. Ah God you're passing off to sleep. Fll get you breakfast. You poor darling, sure the fever is raging in you by the feel of your cheek."