J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

"You'll overcome Beefy."

"I guiltily hope so."

Balthazar B watching as the lift cage descended with Beefy.

To make sport with Rebecca. Uncle Edouard said you must take women as they are with perhaps a little Chablis and snail. I took Fitzdare bare arsed out of a hole in the wall and am still trembling with the memory. I'll go stand at the window. Look down. All just as it was when I first came to Dublin. And heard on an early morn. A voice. Singing down below. To hear it now again. And look. There on the pavement, hands resting on a pillar before him. He stands. Looking up here at my window. I wave. And the strains of O For The Wings Of A Dove. Go in my ears. That sunlit hearth of Mrs. Twinkle's cottage so many years ago. And as I will wake to look out on Dublin. I give a wish. For you Beefy. That a time will come. If just you wait. For one of those pure days of accident when everything turns to bliss.

Then

Pack away

Pleasures

All you can.

Balthazar B sailed from Dun Laoghaire back across the Irish Sea. Arriving near midnight in the deserted town of Holy-head. High up in a hotel attic overlooking the harbour he woke in a room with three beds and two other men. At breakfast he sent a seaside postcard to County Fermanagh and Fitzdare.

Dear Lizzy,

Arrived now in England. Had, it would seem, to share a room with two gentlemen who arrived later in the night. There must be crowds here but they can't be seen. Upon finishing this kipper I now dine upon I am proceeding to London via various circuitous routes which may take my fancy. First stop Chester. I miss you and think of you much.

Balthazar

By taxi and hired car Balthazar went from town to town. Signing strange names in guest books taken from a volume on the lives of the saints. Chester to Shrewsbury and heading around the great white haze over Birmingham. Kidderminster to Stratford. And by whim to Eatington, a place unfamed. Until a final day at Oxford and a morning walk by the meadows and along the towpath of the Thames to go south east to the big smoke of London on the train. A photographic portrait awaited, taken of Fitzdare. The days were all soft and warm and sunny. Matters were proceeding rapidly between the principals. And a marriage settlement was nearly reached with Raphael Uryan Trusscutt Fitzdare.

Two chars came to clean and scour out the little house in Brompton. It was painted and put up for sale. The convened principals said it would not do for size nor dignity. And Lizzy pleaded too late to keep the little place she said she wanted to see. Bother, Writson, Horn, Pleader and Hoot had found a proper residence facing slightly north east near gardens, containing the usual and suitable appointments in this most favoured area deep in the heart of Knightsbridge. And one moved into the family elegance of the Hyde Park Hotel to wait. With no news of Beefy all these days.

Each morning to look for mail and await anew a letter from Fitzdare. But none did come. To stand there looking at the little cubby hole and hope for some sign of her pink stationery. Then go out and wander walking in Hyde Park along the Serpentine. And in the evening on the pebbly path feeding the black and white ducks on the still water. The faint glowing gas flame inside the big glass lamp globes. The great grey stretch of sky. Squawk of ducks, geese and swans as they made their way to nest for the night. In the darkness to sit on a bench in Rotten Row. Just to wait. Until a letter did arrive.

The Temple

London E.C.4

The Temple London E.C.4 Dear Mr. B, We are pleased to inform you that contracts have now been exchanged with the vendors for the purchase of 78 Crescent Curve, Knightsbridge. Steps are in hand to put the property in order and we would be pleased to hear from you concerning any particular wishes you may have in the matter.

Regarding the marriage settlement the principals of the other side have not yet returned to us papers and we are told that there has been some unforseen delay. Although there is no particular hurry in the matter we have advised them none the less that signatures would be appreciated within fourteen days. A country property meeting with your requirements has now come to hand, a survey is being presently conducted, and we will be counselling you of further particulars in due course.

Yours faithfully,

Bother,Writson, Horn,

Pleader & Hoot

On the days of inclemency Balthazar B went to the Natural History Museum. Walking quietly there peeking in the antique shops along Brompton Road. And one afternoon he fell asleep in the Reptile Hall. And had a rather unpleasant dream. Of all the reptiles coming to life. The cobras, pythons and rattlesnakes. They writhed across the floors, pouring out of the glass cages they broke with lashing tails. To entwine, attack and poison, heads drawn back with deadly gleaming fangs to strike. To shout oneself awake and find me surrounded by blue uniformed museum attendants. Who were gently reassuring and brought me a glass of water. One smiled and said that sort of dream could happen to anyone.

I walked several times along Piccadilly. And down Regent Street to Pall Mall. Lurking by the doorways to listen. To find if one could hear distant screams from the attic rooms of clubs. Wondering always if Beefy were having me on. Balthazar my dear boy, of course we have scads of valuable tomes in the club library which are fulsomely documented treatises on the lash. The chaps of the old school, they sit there over whisky and soda and when the cries erupt and echo down the marble stairs, they say, hear hear, that's Roger, know his scream, George must be giving him his tonight. My dear boy Balthazar, one often lies there as the lash falls reading the personal column of The Times. Members select and reserve their fancied whip of an evening by appending thereto their racing colours. Always a fair crowd around the display cases in early afternoon. The whip chosen is entered in the whip log along with the lashes to be administered. These are checked of course daily to avoid members taking on too much at one go. Just after port is the best time for the lash to fall. There was a member expelled. He was distributing pictures of himself. Taken at moments when the lash was landed. That's simply not done. Chucked out he was. I think really it was his American style underwear that brought it about. But never think we're runaway masochists dear boy, the cat-o-nine tails is forbidden. And one is not to be caught using the Russian knout or oriental bastinado. And where was Beefy now. As one wanders and wishes to see him. And hear his lyric tales unfold. On a Wednesday morning I came down after breakfast in my room. And passing out the lobby there was a letter. Not pink but white. And somehow opening it. There seemed a gathering perplexing doom. After all these days of waiting. Decorators daily urged to finish the scraping and painting at Crescent Curve. My mother expecting me in Nice. And tomorrow I go to meet Beefy at our appointed time.

The Temple

London E.C.4

Dear Mr. B,

We very much regret to inform you that the arrangement reached between the principals concerning your marriage to the Miss Elizabeth Astrid Benedicta Trusscutt Fitzdare has now been withdrawn by the other side without explanation. We are taking the liberty to write again this day to enquire if this decision admits of no further discussion or if the matter may be reopened at a later date. However, it is only fair to make known to you now that as far as our opposite colleagues are aware, the instruction given them is final and the agreement reached thus far between the parties is cancelled. Our own personal regrets in this matter are hereby extended to you.

Yours faithfully,

Bother, Writson, Horn,

Pleader & Hoot

Balthazar B on that Wednesday. Walked out down the steps and into the street. To stand there for moments staring across the heads of passing people and the traffic and buses moving by. Suddenly to be told you're not wanted anymore. A bleak black curtain brought down. To fly by airplane to ask. But if one is not wanted how can I ever go. Or know whatever went wrong.