J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

"We will stamp out smuttiness. We shall have straight little backs and sound bottoms. No smut here.'

October trees dropping their brown leaves on the wet grass. Chill damp dawn mornings the little boys rose shivering and clutching towels to hunch to the tub room. The still dark countryside out the window. Wintering thrushes asleep.

The screams and agonised faces as the white bodies cast themselves into the big baths of icy water. Contortions of sweating lead pipes held with shiny brass clips to the white tiled walls. The gurgling laughter, pushes and shoves. And threats of revenge.

"You just wait tonight. You'll feel something you won't like."

Balthazar in uniform, waiting by his bed. Beefy striding back from the wash room with his morning smile. As Balthazar enquires gently as to the way in this world.

"What will happen tonight."

"Masterdon's a big bully. He has foot rot between the toes. He'll put his larger snakes in Duffer's bed. They don't bite hard. They sometimes only give a little sting. His are only grass snakes but I am collecting adders."

Beefy over the days steering Balthazar from the lurking harms. The priest hole where they put you in up to your neck and kicked your face. The mud bath by the river where older boys commanded young boys to wrestle. Beefy said never cry or show you are afraid, the dumbest and weakest boys get the worst and they are especially horrid to princes and lords.

And this Saturday evening at the assembly room to see a tattered film on the delights of Guatemala and splendors of Veracruz. Boys chattering at the door waiting with their pillows. While Beefy below in the basement made a raid on the kitchen and stole away to a little stray dog he sheltered in the woods and called Soandso. Sunday afternoon convened to sit and copy from the blackboard the weekly letter to parents and guardians.

Dear Mother,

Yesterday was Founder's Birthday and we saw an exciting film all about Central America made by the Founder's father who explored there. On Tuesday we played golf. It was a jolly good caper. Soon we will be playing rugger. For dessert we had peaches and fresh cream. I am very happy here and very much enjoy the new friends I have made.

Balthazar

Evening prayers in a candle lit chapel this Sunday. High voices in song. Smell of wax and autumn winds bleeding through cracks of doors and windows and crevices of stone. Balthazar staring down at this hymn as the words grew faint then blurred and dimmed. Until he woke on his bed, matron bent over him, a cold compress on his forehead. Then lights out and Beefy kneeling close at his bedside.

"Are you still poorly Balthazar.' "No."

"You fainted. You must be frightened and sad.' "I want to write a letter to my nannie. And master said I can't.' "You shall. Tomorrow after golf. And then give it to me."

A stretch of blue in a bleak sky. Across the gently folding lawns the sun would speed. And sheltered south west, hidden by a canvas awning on the porch of the golf pavilion, Balthazar wrote his small scrawl.

Dear Nannie,

Today we are playing golf. The stick is too big for me and I cannot hit the ball. I now have a friend called Beefy. And his real name is Balthazar too. He is not afraid of anything and has gone far out of his way to protect me. On Founder's Birthday we had toast and dripping for tea. The big boys have torture chamber after lights out and they take their pleasure to bang the bottoms of the littler boys. They call it botty bashing and it hurts very much. Honourables get the worst thumping of all. They are the sons of lords. Nothing else is happening here. Tonight is private dormitory feast. My friend and I eat cheese he has stolen from the kitchen. There is starvation here and I am glad my friend is good at thieving. I hope you find a nice husband for yourself soon. I am sorry the man who saw the good mend in your skirt on the boat did not make your acquaintance as he would have found you awfully nice.

Balthazar

The envelope handed across to Beefy. Who tucked it beneath his sweater and set out at a trot to disappear with a wave at the edge of the wood. The trees laying great long shadows in the reddening setting sun. And a week later a letter came for Balthazar which he opened under the smile of Beefy.

My dearest Balthazar,

I did so much appreciate your very wonderful letter. And I am so glad you have made a nice friend. He sounds quite capable. When I left you to school I came to visit my mother and father who live just outside of this town by the Grand Junction Canal. Which is not awfully grand but there is some nice countryside all round. I take long walks by the canal and I carry a bag of bread to feed the swans. I can also see the trains go by and often I think of you. I too hope I find a nice husband soon. And when he is the man in my life, you will always be the other.

It will be so nice to see you at Christmas.

Nannie 36

To sleep that night this letter tucked away under the pillow. And carried each day next to his flesh until the weeks went by and the writing grew faint and blurred and the paper curled and split. To open it again and again until finally it fell to pieces. And one whole line was left.

When he

Is the man

In my life

You will always

Be

The other.

The day following the great night storm in the wild year of weather which sent tiles clattering from rooftops and the belfry from the village church, Beefy made his usual speedy mission through the woods to post uncensored letters to the outside world, Balthazar running behind the heels of this chunky stalwart engine puffing the way over fallen branches, threading through bramble patches and looking back to smile encouragement to Balthazar.

And they came to the rustic shelter of pine boughs round a tree. There was a whimper and happy bark and wagging tail of little black and white Soandso. Tethered to the tree trunk jumping and licking in the piles of straw. Beefy with his jar of water, cheese and bread. And great grin as he withdrew from beneath his sweater and shirt two thick lamb chops.

"These are choice loin. They were for Crunch's supper. He will be most annoyed.'

Beefy patting Soandso on the head as he growled over his dinner. He said goodbye be a good dog, and waved back as they crossed into a haunted plantation of great ancient oaks. Black shadows of ravens high in the tree tops. Their low throated cries, strange cocking of heads and gleaming eyes. Through a thicket of rhododendrons. Until suddenly they stepped out on the village road near a cozy thatched cottage buried in roses and bramble.

"That's where Mrs. Twinkle lives. She's very nice. When Fm away on holidays she takes in Soandso. Makes him awfully fat. He gets healthy quickly again when he's back in the woods. We're invited to tea. Hers are the yummiest of scones in all of England."

With a grin Beefy pushed his letters into the red post box set in the wall. Ducking back off the road they crossed a field 38 and entered a gate and along a grassy path through rows of moisture silvered cabbage leaves. Beefy knocking at the rose bowered door. The bright orange seeds against the crumbling stone.

Inside this low roofed room a fire crackling, Mrs. Twinkle's moist eyes as she scurried about setting tea. Balthazar scooping up spoons of jam and biting through white fluffy hot scones to taste the sweet melting butter. Beefy went to the piano. His stubby little fingers rippling across the keys, his light voice raising slender music as he sang O For The Wings Of A Dove. And what nannie told in all the little evening whisperings or when we watched out or walked along the Channel shore. She said in the grey heavens over England it rains on a quiet and contented land.

"Mrs. Twinkle thank you so much for having us."