Best of Myles

by Flann O'Brien

  Upon what subjects does this animal discourse?

  Sure luckit. I seen meself on a day’s walk with the brother off out in Howth last March. Your man was with us and the three of us went for a ramble.

  Who was with you?

  Arthur. The dog. Well here was I in front, suckin in the fresh air and exercisin meself and payin no attention. What happens? I hear the brother chattin away behind me and been answered back. Then the brothers gives a laugh at some joke d’other lad was after makin’ Then there’s more laughin and chattin. I look back but the brother’s hidden be a bend. I wait there unbeknownst and I see the brother comin into sight laughin his head off and your man beside him gruntin’ and growlin and givin chat out of him for further orders. Course I was too far away to hear what was goin on. And when the pair sees me, the laughin stops and the two gets serious. It wouldn’t do, of course, to say annything to the brother about a thing like that. He wouldn’t like that, you know. An extraordinary pair, Arthur and the brother.

  I see.

  But I’ll tell you what takes me to the fair. Your men above in the park. The fellas that’s tryin to hunt the deer into a cage. Sure the brother and Arthur could take charge of them animals, and walk every wan of them up to Doll Erin of a Monda mornin if there was anny need for them to go there.

  I see.

  Sure luckit here man, I seen meself out in Santry four years ago when the brother had Arthur out on sheepdog trials and I’ll go bail no man ever seen a dog parcel up sheep the way Arthur done it. There was a hundred of them in it if there was wan. Did Arthur start jumpin and scootin about an’ roarin out of him? Did he start bitin and snarlin, snawshilin and givin leps in the air with excitement?

  I deduce that quite the contrary was the case.

  O nothin like that atchall. Not a sound out of him but a short step this way, a step maybe that way, the nose down in the ground, the tail stuck sideways, just enough to put the fear of God into your men the sheep. You’ll see the right ear go up. That means a sheep two hundred yards away is thinkin of makin a dash out. Does he do it after Arthur puts up the ear? He certainly does NOT.

  I understand.

  He stops where he is and he’s a sound judge. But I got on to the brother about them deer. Why is it, says I, that you and Arthur don’t take a walk up there some fine day and march the deer in instead of having your men above there makin exhibitions of themselves with their lassoos and five bar gates and bicycles? Do you know what the brother said?

  I do not.

  THE DEER, says the brother, IS MAN’S FRIEND. The deer is man’s friend. That’s what he said. And he’s right. Because when did the deer harm you?

  Never, I assure you.

  And when did they take a puck at me?

  Never.

  When did they try to ate your men on the bicycles?

  Never.

  Then tell me why they’re tryin to slaughter them.

  I am sorry I do not know. I perceive my large public service vehicle approaching. Good bye.

  Your bus? OK. Cheers.

  DO YOU KNOW that picture by George Roll* that was banned be the gallery?

  I think I understand your reference.

  Well the whole thing was gone into in the digs the other night. The brother was layin’ down the law about pictures and art and all this class of thing. The brother says that any picture done be a Frenchman must be right.

  Admittedly there is a widely held opinion that the French excel in artistic pursuits.

  The brother says the French do be at the art night and mornin’. They do have it for breakfast, dinner and tea.

  Is that a fact?

  The brother says some of them lads thinks nothing of being up in the middle of the night-time workin’ away at the pictures. Stuck inside a room wearin’ the hair off a brush. Very mad-lookin’ stuff some of it is too, so the brother says. But very INTERESSTIN’ stuff. O very interesstin’. Very … very … interesstin’.

  I see.

  Then other lads does be stuck below in cellars makin’ statues. There’s a quare game for you now. They do be down hammerin’ away in the middle of the night-time.

  Surely not the most healthy of occupations.

  Ah, yes. Well then do you know what goes on in the mornin-time in a French house?

  I do not.

  They do all come down for breakfast, ready to tuck into a damn fine feed of rashers and black puddin’. Starvin’ with the hunger, do you understand, after been up all night workin’ at the art. What happens?

  I take it they eat their meal.

  Notatall. In marches your man of the house with overalls on him. Will yez all come in here, says he, into this room, says he, till I show yez me new picture. This, of course, is something he was after runnin’ up in the middle of the night-time. So in they all march and leave the grub there. And be the time they’re finished lookin’ at that, your man below in the cellar is roarin’ out of him for them all to come down and take a look at what HE’S after doin’. Do you understand? No breakfast. But plenty of art, do you know.

  That is a rare example of devotion to the things of the intellect.

  The brother says it’s what they call art for art’s sake. Well then do you know what goes on on Sunda?

  I do not.

  The brother says that beyond in France they have a big palace be the name of the Tweeleries. The Tweeleries was built in the days of the French Revolution be Napolean Bonipart himself and built be slave labour too. None of your one and fourpence an hour with time and a half on Saherdas. Well annyway all around the Tweeleries they do have fancy gardens and parks. What would you say is in the gardens?

  Root crops, one should hope, in keeping with these stern times.

  I’ll tell you what’s in the gardens. The gardens is full of statues. And of a Sunda the Frenchmen do be walkin’ around the gardens havin’ a screw at the statues.

  I see.

  They do be up early in the mornin’ waitin’ for the gates to be opened. And then nothin’ll do them all day only gawkin’ out of them at the statues. They’ll ask nothin’ better than that. As happy as Larry lookin’ at them first from this side and then that. And talkin’ away in French to one another. And do you know why?

  I do not.

  Because the statues is art too. The brother says the statue is the highest form of art. And he’s not far wrong because even look at the height of some of the ones we have ourselves above in the Phoenix Park.

  The effigy of Nelson also ranks high.

  Ah yes, great men for the art, the French. Sure the brother says a man told him they do be sellin’ pictures in the streets. Here’s me ’bus. Cheers now.

  Cheers.

  THE BROTHER is thinkin of goin up.

  Going up what?

  The brother is thinkin of standin.

  Standing what? Drinks?

  The brother is thinkin of having a go at the big parties.

  Do you mean that your relative is considering offering himself as a candidate when a general election becomes due by reason of constitutional requirement?

  The brother is thinkin of goin up at the elections.

  I see.

  Of course it’s not the brother himself that is all mad for this game. He’s bein pushed do you understand me. Certain influential parties is behind him. They’re night and mornin’ callin’ to the digs and colloguin with the brother inside in the back-room with the brother givin orders for tea to be made at wan in the mornin’. Any amount of fat oul’ fellas with the belly well out in front, substantial cattle-men be the look of them. No shortage of the ready there. And do you know what I’m going to tell you?

  I do not.

  It’s not today nor yesterday this business started. Months ago didn’t I catch the brother inside in the bed with the Intoxication Act they had all the talk about. He was havin’ a rare oul’ screw at it, burnin the light all night. Says I what’s this I see, what’s goin on here? Do you know what the answer was? Says he I’m makin—wait t
ill you hear this—I’m makin, says he, COPIOUS NOTES. That’s a quare one. Copious notes is what the brother was at in the bed.

  I understand. Your relative no doubt realises that the study is the true foundation of statesmanship.

  And I’ll tell you a good wan. The brother has books under the bed. I seen them.

  The love of books has been a beacon that has lighted the way in our darkest hour.

  Sure wasn’t the landlady getting on to the brother for havin the light on till four and five in the mornin. Of course the brother doesn’t mind the landlady.

  I see.

  The brother takes a very poor view of the Labour Party. Cawbogues he calls them. And what else are they?

  I do not know.

  Not that the brother fancies the other crowd either. Begob wan day there came a collector to the digs lookin for election money. This is years back, of course. Well do you know what, he walked into it. Everybody thought the brother was out and the crowd in the digs was all for payin up and lookin pleasant. But begob the next thing the brother comes marchin down the stairs. I need’nt tell you what happened. Your man was humped out on his ear. A very strict person, the brother. He’s not a man to get on the wrong side of.

  I do not doubt it.

  Well then the brother was workin away at figures. Do you know what it is, says he. I think I can see me way to pay every man woman and child in the country four pounds ten a week. That’s a quare one. Four pounds ten and no stamp money stopped.

  That is quite remarkable.

  The brother was a bit worried about the ten bob for a day or two. But he got it right in the end. He’ll be able to manage the four-ten. Begob I had to shake him be the hand when he told me the news. It’ll be changed times when the brother’s party gets in. And do you know what? Certain proof that the brother is goin places …

  What?

  The brother was down the kays the other day pricin’ claw-hammers.

  An excellent omen.

  Here’s me bus. Cheers!

  DO YOU know what it is, the brother’s an extraordinary genius.

  I do not doubt it.

  Begob he had them all in a right state above in the digs.

  Is that a fact?

  Comes in wan night there, puts the bike in the hall and without takin off coat, cap or clips walks into the room, takes up the tea-pot, marches out with it without a word and pours the whole issue down the sink. You should see the face of her nibs the landlady, her good black market tay at fifteen bob a knock!

  An extraordinary incident.

  But then does your man come back and explain?

  I should be astonished if he did.

  O not a bit of it. Marches upstairs leavin the lot of them sittin there with the eyes out on pins. They do be easily frightened be the brother.

  A natural reaction to this unusual personality.

  Well annyway the brother is upstairs for half an hour washin and scrubbin himself and smokin fags in the bathroom. And the crowd below sitting there afraid to look at wan another, certain sure they were all poisoned and not knowin which was going to pass out first.

  I see.

  Well after a while the brother marches downstairs and gives strict orders that nobody is to drink any more water. Gives instructions to the landlady that there’s to be no more tea made until further notice. The brother then goes out to the kitchen and makes a dose of stuff with milk and some white powder he had in the pocket and makes them all drink it. The whole lot might be dead only for the brother.

  Your relative will no doubt be compensated elsewhere for his selfless conduct.

  Well next mornin he’s off on the bicycle up to the waterworks at Stillorgan and comes home with bottles full of water. He was above in the waterworks carrying out surveys and colloguin with the turncocks—never lettin on who he was, of course, just chattin and keepin th’oul eye open.

  I understand.

  And the crowd in the digs livin on custard and cocoa made with milk, the unfortunate landlady crucified for a cup of tea but afraid of her life to make a drop or even take wan look at the tap.

  Quite.

  Well annyway up with the brother to the bathroom with the bottles of water and he’s stuck inside there for hours with the door locked. The brother was carryin out tests, d’y’understand.

  I do.

  Down he comes at eight o’clock, puts on the hat and coat and begob you should see the face. The brother was gravely concerned. Very gravely concerned. He doesn’t look at anyone, just says, ‘I’ll have to see Hernon to-morrow.’ Then out with him.

  A most ominous pronouncement.

  The next mornin the brother comes down in the blue suit and gives orders that if anybody calls he’s above in the City Hall with Hernon and that he’ll be back late and to take any message. Well do you know I never seen the digs so quiet after the brother left. And that night at tea-time there wasn’t two words said be anybody. The whole crowd was sittin there waitin for the brother to come back from Hernon. Seven o’clock and he wasn’t back. Eight, Nine. Begob the suspense was brutal. BRUTAL.

  I can quite imagine.

  At half nine the door opens and in comes the brother. I never seen a man lookin as tired. And would you blame him, fifteen hours non-stop stuck up in the City Hall?

  Undoubtedly a most arduous exertion in the public interest.

  Well annyway the brother sits down and starts takin of the boots. And then without liftin the head, he says: ‘From tomorrow on,’ says he, ‘yez can have your tea.’

  Indeed.

  Well begob there was nearly a cheer. But the brother just goes upstairs without another word, tired to the world. He was after fixin the whole thing and puttin Hernon right about the water.

  Undoubtedly a most useful day’s work.

  WELL, do you know the brother’s taken to the books again.

  You do not say so.

  Comes home to the digs wan day a month ago with a big blue one under d’arm. Up to the bedroom with it and doesn’t stir out all night. The brother was above havin a screw at the book for five hours non-stop. The door locked, of course. That’s a quare one.

  Odd behaviour without a doubt.

  Well wan Sunda I see the brother below in the sittin-room with the book in the hand and the nose stuck into it. So I thought I’d get on to him about it. What’s the book, says I. It’s be Sir James Johns, says the brother without liftin the head. And what’s the book about, says I. It’s about quateernyuns, says the brother. That’s a quare one.

  It is undoubtedly ‘a quare one’.

  The brother was readin a book about quateernyuns be Sir James Johns.

  A most remarkable personality, your relative.

  But I’ll tell you another good one. The brother does be up in the night-time peepin at the moon.

  I see.

  What do I see wan night and me comin home at two in the mornin from me meetin of the Knights only your man pokin the head out of the window with the nightshirt on him. Starin out of him at the stars.

  A practice beloved of all philosophers throughout the centuries.

  Well I’ll tell you this, mister-me-friend: you won’t find yours truly losing sleep over a book be Sir James Johns. Damn the fear of me been up peepin out of the window in the night-time.

  I accept that statement.

  Well then another funny thing. The brother does be doin sums. The digs is full of bits of paper with the brother’s sums on them. And very hard sums too. Begob I found some of the brother’s sums on me newspaper wan day, written all down along the side. That’s a quare wan. Workin away at sums breakfast dinner and tea.

  Proof at least of perseverance.

  Of course all the brother’s sums isn’t done in the digs. He does be inside in a house in Merrion Square doin sums as well. If anybody calls, says the brother, tell them I’m above in Merrion Square workin at the quateernyuns, says, he, and take any message. There does be other lads in the same house doing sums with the brother. The brother d
oes be teachin them sums. He does be puttin them right about the sums and the quateernyuns.

  Indeed.

  I do believe the brother’s makin a good thing out of the sums and the quateernyuns. Your men couldn’t offer him less than five bob an hour and I’m certain sure he gets his tea thrown in.

  That is a desirable perquisite.

  Because do you know, the brother won’t starve. The brother looks after Number Wan. Matteradamn what he’s at, it has to stop when the grubsteaks is on the table. The brother’s very particular about that.

  Your relative is versed in the science of living.

  Begob the sums and the quateernyuns is quickly shoved aside when the alarm for grub is sounded and all hands is piped to the table. The brother thinks there’s a time for everything.

  And that is a belief that is well-founded.

  Here’s me bus. Cheers now.

  DID YOU hear the latest about Eugene?

  Who is Eugene?

  The brother’s dog.

  I did not hear the latest about Eugene.

  The brother is gettin Eugene fixed up.

  I do not understand.

  He was above in the park chattin Kissane for five hours a Monda.

  Who is Kissane?

  The head-buck-cat in the Guards. The brother was inside with Kissane colloguin in a back office about Eugene’s prospects. Kissane takes a very high view of the brother. He does often be gettin advice from the brother about managin the Guards. Do you know what Kissane calls the brother?

  I do not.

  Kissane calls the brother AN IRON DISCIPLARIAN.

  I see.

  Kissane does be sendin the brother out an odd time to keep th’oul eye open, chattin Guards at night when they do be out on their beats. The brother and Kissane is very strict about the Guards smokin fags in doorways or nippin into pubs at ten o’clock to get the crowd out and then swallyin a couple of pints on the q.t. when nobody’s lookin. Great men for keepin the Guards right, Kissane and the brother.

  I have no doubt of it.

  Fierce men for maintainin order.

  I quite understand.

  And of course very strict men for seein that the Guards is kept honest. If Kissane or the brother catches a Guard pinchin stuff, the Guard has to go. Matter a damn what else, the Guard has to go.