J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

Outside warmed with late sunlight red and gold through the trees. Mrs. Twinkle, grey head and black garments at her back door. The thin white hand raised to wave. The two little friends set off again through the woods. Gaily crossing a grassy valley and along the river. Beefy putting his finger on the small paw prints in the mud round a badger hole on the side of a hill. Through the beech wood and crouching along the edge of the golf course. They swung hands and whooped. And Beefy announced.

"I do believe Balthazar that I know how to butter up old ladies."

Ahead stood the high wall of the kitchen garden. And at the giant yew tree Beefy scrambled up the twisting trunk pulling Balthazar behind. On top of the garden wall balancing. A hole in the branches of spreading boxwood tree below. Together hand in hand they jumped. Into this brief darkness. And to get up from their knees into the clutching waiting arms of Crunch and Slouch.

Light quick hearts and ashen faces. Led between the lettuce and onion beds carefully tended for masters' evening salads. Up the back stairs in the awful silence. To the dormitory to wash. Back down the great staircase. Where the strange blood red spilled from the stained glass window. Their feet making this terrible noise on the boards. Of doom and disaster. Of God nowhere to be seen. Of nann@e and her soft hair to let me rest my cheek when I weep.

"Don't be frightened Balthazar. I will do the talking.'

"Stop that whispering number sixty four.' In this dim panelled waiting room at the end of the long hall. Sofa seats and tables stacked with the school magazine. Famous old boys on the wall. The cricket and rugby elevens. Voices behind the dark oak door. Opening now. And the grim face of Slouch.

"All right sixty four and fifty seven, come in. Beefy hands out of your pockets.'

In the big room windows facing east and south. An oar high up across the wall above white shelves of bookcases. Framed parchments and degrees. Silver framed photographs on the desk of thin dark figures at a Palace Garden Party.

"Stand there. Hands behind backs. Well now this is a pretty little pitch isn't it. I said hands behind the back sixty four. Now then we have some items. Item one. You recognise this Beefy, sixty four."

"I think so sir."

"Do you pr don't you."

"I think I do. Sir."

"It would appear to be your diary. Is it."

"Could you hold it a little aside sir, the sun's in my eyes."

"Is it."

"I could be mistaken sir."

"O you could, could you. Trifle with me, will you. It is your diary. Let that fact be clearly established. And it's utterly despicable and odious."

"It is the truth."

"Quiet sixty four, answer when spoken to and not before."

"Sir I should be allowed an answer to your slander."

"Shut up. How dare you. We're only at the beginning of this interrogation. Slander indeed. How would you know the meaning of such a word."

"I do sir."

"Shut up."

"You are being uncommonly rude sir."

"I said shut up you little devil. Six strokes of the cane for every uncalled for remark. Now then. Mr. Crunch, let us proceed, you are a witness. And sixty four I wouldn't try the tricky if I were you. Upon his return from Swindon, the headmaster shall have this matter put before him for action. I shudder to think all this is taking place during the funeral of the headmaster's mother. Now then. This is your diary. Answer me, you are a masturbator."

"Yes indeed sir."

"You admit it."

"Yes sir."

"When did you begin this foul practice."

"As soon as I was able sir."

"When was that."

" I don't know sir, ever since I can remember. It has been spontaneous with me sir. It has always felt nice to pull upon sir."

"Take that down verbatim, Mr. Crunch. Now then. Do you deny it was you who chalked up the legend I am the vast masturbator on the blackboards of this school."

"Not me sir."

"Ha, not me sir, yet, page fourteen of your diary. Let me refresh your memory a bit. September 2yth. Tonight successfully succeeded in the deed. What did you mean by that. On the next morning following that entry each classroom blackboard had the said legend writ upon it."

"Sir you would allow there are many masturbators at large in this school who may have wanted to give utterance to their feelings."

"Pretty speech sixty four. Very pretty. Cunning and eloquence combined. But we're only beginning here. And you fifty seven. Shame on you to seek out such a bad companion. Of course you are a foreigner. What have you got to say for yourself."

"Nothing sir."

"Just as well. Now then. It has been established here.

Firstly, that you are the author of the legend I am the vast masturbator."

"Begging your pardon sir. The legend to which you refer as having been written on the blackboards of this school was I am the magnificent masturbator.'

"Magnificent, vast, what difference does it make. Pure pornography all of it."

"I would respectfully explain sir that there is a large difference between a vast and a magnificent masturbator. And it would be prudent if you got your facts correct."

"Six strokes of the best for that daring piece of insolence. Now then. Secondly. Stealing from the kitchen."

"I deny it sir."

"Liar. You are a liar. Mr. Crunch's two lamb chops are missing. Their disappearance not unremarkably coinciding with your absence. Your brazen effrontery is almost beyond belief. What is the motto of this school sixty four."

"Clean hands, candor and godliness sir."

"And what would you say your slippery shabby little hands have been up to."

"Perhaps no good sir."

"Quite. For once we have the truth. Too late of course to outweigh the numerous lies. Mr. Crunch have you any questions you'd like to put before I go on."

Crunch sat in his leather chair. His shoulders slumping about him. The four corners of his gold silk handkerchief drooping from his jacket pocket. Hands folded gently in his lap. And with a strange tremor to see moisture collecting over his eyes as he slowly shook his head back and forth.

"Very well. Now then. Masterdon, eighty four, claims to have seen you, sixty four, abroad outside the grounds of this school. Which is absolutely forbidden."

"What was Masterdon doing outside sir."

"You may ask that question. He had leave to purchase his weekly fruit from the greengrocer, that's what he was doing."

"It would appear sir you have me dead to rights."

"Appear. We have indeed got you dead to rights sixty four. I understand your grandmother is your guardian and you are an orphan. What happened to your parents may I ask. I think these are questions quite pertinent under the circumstances. Speak up.'

"My mother was killed in a hunting accident sir. My father took to drink as he loved her very much. He drank his estate sir and died from an onslaught of creditors.'

"You don't die of creditors.'

"Yes you do sir. My granny refused to help him and she is very rich sir. I put the shilling in the gas meter sir."

"What are you talking about."

"My father sir. He gassed himself in an oven in a room in Glasgow. Overlooking the traintracks to Edinburgh, sir. I was but a mite then. He gave me the shilling to put in the meter in the hall. My father locked me out of the room. And he was dead when the police came."

"Are these lies sixty four, are you having us on."

Crunch put his head down into his open hand propped by an elbow on the leather arm rest. He made a long sigh. Slouch removed his spectacles and pulled a nose cloth from his sleeve and ran it back and forth on the glass. Crunch's flat voice.

"He speaks the truth, Mr. Slouch."

"I see. All right. Both of you can stand at ease. Of course it is very sad. There is no question about that. None. But if we were to let sentiment intrude upon justice where would we be. Where would we be sixty four."