The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

by J. P. Donleavy

  Across Berkshire, Hampshire and Surrey, the headmaster returned from Swindon. His little grey roadster pulling to a halt at three this Thursday afternoon. This early December. Rumours whispered. And two mysterious days went gloomily by.

  On a damp Saturday they marched down across the pebbled path to the sports pavilion. Carrying their towels, striped stockings and boots. The crash and crunch of muddy bodies. Ear pulling, shin kicking. A wet rugby ball sliding from hands. And Beefy plunging his tough little figure past monster Masterdon for the winning goal.

  To the strange postponement of beatings Beefy said they were finding out if my trustees are leaving a packet to the school. And then Sunday after prayers in chapel as cocoa was being given, numbers were called to report at Mr. Slouch's room. Twenty two, fourteen and sixty four. And as Beefy tugged on trousers over his pyjamas he said to Balthazar, they have found out that my trustees are not leaving them a fig.

  Masterdon came grinning near slurping cocoa down his cheeks.

  "Slouch nearly captained England Beefy. Scored one hundred and twenty runs. Your botty will surely be poorly."

  "Shut up Masterdon or I will punch you in the eye.'

  "Just try it. Anytime."

  Balthazar watched as Beefy walked out the aisle between the beds. And disappeared into the hall and up the stairs. And down to doom. The minutes went by. And then the first screams.

  "Hey Balthazar, that's your friend Beefy."

  "It's not. That's Duffer. Beefy will never cry out."

  Above, at the end of each sound of heavy running footsteps. A loud scream. Six times. And six more times. And then the footsteps running and followed by silence.

  "That's Beefy, Masterdon."

  And the dormitory figures stood on their beds waiting. Beefy strode back in neither sad nor glad. Followed by whimpering Duffer and Jones. Who ducked and cowered between the beds as they were made run the gauntlet of knots and wet tips of snapping towels. When lights out to snuggle up to one's knees in darkness. Ahead a cold grey Monday. Of Latin cases, isosceles triangles, and the triumph of England at Waterloo.

  At the evil sad time of four o'clock Balthazar and Beefy were summoned to headmaster's office. The oar and cricket bat back up on the wall. Debrett safely on the shelf, a wide crack down its spine.

  "All right boys. Stand there. Would you kindly take a seat over there Mr. Crunch and you there, please Mr. Slouch. Now I'm not going to waste time explaining the enormity of the offences and why they merit the measures they do. We know that without rules chaps would be waltzing naked in Piccadilly. But before proceeding I would like to ask you number sixty four to recite the canons of this school. Indeed if you know them."

  "Be respectful at all times to masters. Do not tease younger playfellows. Be kind and attentive to elderly people. Do no mean or sneaking thing. Be always open, cordial, honest, manly. Be at all times clean of ear, teeth and heels."

  "Yes. Quite. But you have forgotten something."

  "O. Don't spit bone or other substances caught in the teeth back on to the plate."

  "Well that's certainly not done but it is not in fact a canon of this school."

  "Pure thoughts and deeds sir."

  "Good."

  "Sir I feel sick. And am about to disgorge."

  "Get out of here this instant then and come back."

  "Thank you sir."

  Beefy quickly exiting out the door. Slouch grunting. Headmaster taking his pince nez from his nose and pursing his lips.

  "Well now fifty seven, your little princeling friend seems suddenly to have got a weak stomach. From what we hear of him it's certainly not his normal condition. I think we are all a little excited and bewildered. With this rather disquieting situation. I don't like much of what I've been hearing. But it would appear that you are being led by a boy much advanced in chicanery. The fact that he is to be sent down and you are to stay should be of no encouragement, let me assure you of that. Have you anything to say."

  "Sir he is my friend. And I do not care to listen to what you might say about him."

  "Noble of you, I'm sure. Cheeky too. We of course would not expect you to rat on your friend. But we want straight answers. Have you engaged with number sixty four or others in activities which might involve your being in the same bed with another."

  The door suddenly opening. Beefy reappearing.

  "Don't answer that Balthazar."

  "How dare you come in like that without knocking. Stand right there and be quiet. I repeat to you fifty seven, have you engaged with sixty four or others in activities in the same bed."

  "I refuse to answer, sir."

  "Do you realize I may have you sent down for refusing to answer."

  "Yes sir."

  "Well are you going to answer then."

  "No sir."

  "Very well. We'll take up that matter later. Sixty four. I have here your diary. Is that correct."

  "Yes sir."

  "What is the meaning then of these smutty homosexual poems."

  "What poems sir."

  "Do you wish me to read them."

  "Yes sir."

  "I would eschew such a tricky little pose as you are at- tempting here sixty four. Don't try it on with me. Have you engaged in smutty behaviour."

  "I have sir. I frolic at request with the big boys sir."

  "It's clear then that what Mr. Slouch says is true, you are completely without conscience."

  "I have always enjoyed sexual activities sir, my tutor said one must always uphold freedom of the flesh."

  "That's quite enough out of you. Needless to say your guardian has been written to. And your trustees. And your removal from this school at the earliest has been requested.

  Do you understand what I'm saying."

  "I do sir."

  "However, Mr. Crunch here has pleaded upon your behalf and not without my listening with some sympathy. Also that matters in your past were not everything to be desired. And it is upon his pleading that I do not mark your record. You will go from this school able to make a clean start at another. We are aware of your considerable talents it would seem. That's perhaps the greatest pity. One allows for your exceptional abilities but that does not give you licence to attempt to make fools of us. Or that this school is run for the amusement and benefit of one or two boys. And now we come to the matter of the ownership of this diary. I am not satisfied that the opinion given on either side in argument concerning this is the correct one. But for the time being I personally feel the diary is best kept with us."

  "Sir."

  "Now I'll do the talking sixty four, you keep quiet. And when you have settled in somewhere else we may take up the matter of this diary again. Now who takes care of you in the holidays."

  "I go to Sutherland to my granny's sir."

  "O yes I know it up there, bit north but good shooting.

  Don't suppose you include shooting among your other more unhappy proclivities."

  "Yes I do sir."

  "Hmmmm. That so. Well I know it well up there. Yes. I hear birds are plentiful on the moors this season. Last year, August, sixty two brace of grouse by seven guns in abominable and atrocious weather. North wind very adverse. So you shoot.'

  "Yes sir."

  "Hmmmm. Good to start young. Keep your eye down the barrel on the bird. Where is your guardian located then."

  "Ruppinton sir. Ruppinton House."

  "Jolly fine shoot. If the day is not spoiled by mist and downpour. Very high rent for a season."

  "My granny is a tartar sir. She has been known to charge for drinking water sir."

  "Is that so. Well we won't go into that now. Mr. Crunch, Mr. Slouch, I think this sad little occasion is over then. Anything to say. What. I think we have dealt with the matter fairly. What. Can't let the school down. We raise boys to be leaders in all walks of life. And not so they are found some day waltzing in a state of undress around Piccadilly. Both of you are therefore dismissed now. And sixty four, take a bit of luck with you."

/>   "Thank you sir. Goodbye sir."

  A bright crisp sunny day. This Friday afternoon. Beefy on Tuesday went to the village and bought dog food for Soandso. Selected meats, liver, vitamins and minerals. And delivered him freshly bathed from the river to the care of Mrs. Twinkle. He went to a last choir practice. And his solo voice could be heard out across the fields. He said he would be going north to Scotland and knew what he would do on the train. He would look up in the dictionary many foul words and say them in memory of Slouch who was a tadpole and a bicycle seat sniffer.

  Balthazar was given all the precious little treasures. Hidden behind a loose brick near the boilers where Masterdon kept his grass snakes. There was a hunting knife. A catapult and a pea shooter. A secret shoe box with two poisonous adders. And an obscene photograph.

  Beefy bundled up with a long black scarf said goodbye at the top of the great stair. The blood red of the window lighting up his ruddy cheeks and carrot hair. And Balthazar went to the room where his elephant Tillie was torn to shreds. His face pressed to the glass as those grinning ones that day. And out on the gravel a bowler hatted gentleman held open the door of a long black car. Beefy stopping and looking back at the window. He reached into his coat. A great grin on his face. Smilingly he withdrew a small black book. Held it up and waved his diary.

  The car turned up the little hill of the drive. Tires crunching on the gravel. White exhaust in the cold air. And at the rear window the face of Beefy. Throwing a kiss from his fingertips. The naked trees. And now the car vanishing beyond the rhododendron. A last wave too late because he was gone. Towards the steeple tip of the village church, as it poked sharply into the sinking sun.

  And

  The bell

  Rang once

  To say

  Goodbye

  To

  Sixty four.

  9

  In the empty dormitory Balthazar turned himself upon his face and laid out his arms on the cold pillow of his bed. If only one knew how to die. And go away from this lonely friendless world. Rise by one of Uncle Edouard's balloons attached around the bed. And there floating high in the sky cast down much merde upon this school.

  At evening table no glad tidings, nor bold moments. Of catapulting cheese lumps at the grey bearded founder's portrait. Or rolling a drinking glass to get crushed under a servant's foot. Nor at night hear his kind thoughts to comfort one through till dawn. You mustn't worry now. Tomorrow we are having margarine with breakfast and marmite. And I have put much salt in the masters' coffee grindings and they will screw up their faces and find the taste most awfully horrid.

  And now to lie tired cold and shivery. To hold hands down between my legs. And knees up to my chin. When Beefy would tap his chest and say, let the magnificent masturbator speak. I am the king of masturbators and have a bent for botty bashing too. And somewhere sometimes another lonely boy would whimper, cry for mommie and in his tears fall to sleep.

  This last week before Christmas holidays. To play rugger. Face, knees and elbows deep in the dark thick mud. Bruised and sorry. To drop the ball from slippery hands. Amid the shoves, screams and shouts. Beefy said always be gentlemanly and honest, except with masters, bullies and enemies and defend against them by all means at hand. And do the indecent thing to do, if possible.

  Until this cold damp evening after rugger the dormitory windows black with night. Masterdon promenading in his soiled underwear strolling with his grinning big lips past Balthazar's bed.

  "Frenchy. You're going to be in for it something shocking. They are clearing the foreigners out of this school. Frenchy. Those with dirty pictures hidden in the walls. Maybe you are not so spunky now your little piggish friend Beefy is gone.'

  Balthazar rushed forward and sent a looping fist into Masterdon's eye. The big boy reeled and reached out to grab at Balthazar's hair. Who ducked and ran towards the door. Followed by Masterdon's heavy slippered feet. Down the main stair. To the darkened entrance hall and into a door and down another stairs winding into the vast haunted cellars. Through the blackness into the warm dry air of the boiler room. Followed by Masterdon. Balthazar hugging close running round the boiler. Masterdon behind tripping over a box in the dark. Balthazar rushing out slamming and bolting the metal encased door shut. The heavy breathing of Masterdon the other side. Then his voice.

  "I will kill you number fifty seven when I get out of here.' "You may never get out."

  "I'll shout for Slouch."

  "Do. He will never hear you. He is sniffing bicycle seats."

  "You think you're clever fifty seven."

  "Yes I do. Watch out, your snakes may turn on you and eat you."

  "Shut up that talk."

  "If your snakes don't bite you Masterdon, Beefy's adders will. I put them in there yesterday. Two adders."

  "Shut up you."

  "Adders Masterdon. Adders. They are able to strike in the dark. They can tell where there is warm flesh and strike. They are moving now towards you."

  "Shut up, when I get out of here I will kill you just remember that."

  "Masterdon. Adders. Masterdon adders."

  "Shut up shut up. You'll be sorry.' "You'll be dead of poison from the adders Masterdon."

  "You never put an adder in here."

  "I did yesterday. Two adders in the white shoe box. And you knocked it over just now."

  "Where were they then.'

  "They are there Masterdon. Coming near your ankles. It won't be long now before they strike.'

  "Let me out of here.'

  "No not till you are well bitten."

  "Let me out I say."

  "Apologise. And vow never to bully again. For I am not joking, there are adders in there, caught by sixty four."

  "Please let me out now."

  "Vow."

  "All right, I vow."

  "Vow to never bully again."

  "I vow."

  "Say it."

  "I vow to never bully again. Now let me out."

  "All right, but Masterdon, you better know I will fight you. And it will be worse for you because you are big and it will be awful for you if someone smaller gives you a thrashing."

  Balthazar unbolting the boiler room door. To hear Master-don's heavy breathing an arm away in the dark. Waiting for the grab of his hand. "Are there adders in there, fifty seven, turn on the light. I don't want to fight."

  "Yes, there are. In the shoe box."

  "God they could have got me. If they've escaped. You must be mad. I think you are thoroughly mad like sixty four."

  "I am not mad Masterdon. But you are a bully. And you do not find fear so amusing when it is you who is afraid."

  "You won't tell anyone about this."

  "I am not a tattle tale Masterdon."

  With the light on Masterdon searched and held down the adders with the furry end of a broom. Balthazar picked them up by the back of the neck and dropped them back in the box.

  The light brown slit eye and zig zagged yellow brown body and hissing little head as they curled to strike. And that night before lights out. Masterdon came padding across to Balthazar's bed. And handed him one of his tangerines.

  The day before the headmaster's speech and the next day's Christmas holiday departure, there was a letter placed upon Balthazar's bed. School trunks were being packed. A last feverish trading of uncherished treasures. And Balthazar sat and tore open the blue envelope postmarked Leighton Buzzard.

  My dearest Balthazar,

  I have the sorriest thing, for me at least, to have to write to you. My father who has not been well for some time has been taking a slow turn for the worse. My mother who has arthritis cannot look after him alone. And so I have written your mother that here I must stay. I did so much want to look after you again during the Christmas holidays in Paris. A new nannie, your mother tells me, has been engaged and I am sure she will be very nice. She will collect you from school and bring you back to Paris on the train.

  With all my dearest love always.

  Nanni
e

  The blue paper stretched between his fingers. And her large curled writing that leaned forward so that it might fall. As a drop went plop and another drop went plop and the ink lines went furry under the tears. Nannie's cool hand on warm nights on the English Channel shore where there were the shooting stars. And she said that when you die some people say you go down in the ground and others say you go up into the dark and blue. And if they do, go up into the dark and blue, that's why there is so much shoving and pushing between the stars.

  In the assembly room, the squealing of shifting chairs and gabbing voices that raised the roof. Seated along a side row the masters, each looking out in directions of their own worlds. And suddenly the assembly called to stand. At the entrance of Mr. Slouch. As a whisper went through the boys.

  "I am today, sadly, boys, deputising for the headmaster.

  Who sadly, has been called back again to Swindon, where I much regret to say, his father has now died. Let us all join here together now and say a short prayer. O Lord, we beseech thee mercifully to receive the prayers of thy people which call upon thee, and grant that they may both perceive and know what things they ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to fulfill the same, through Jesus Christ our Lord Amen.'

  Slouch slowly rising on his toes and rocking back carefully on his heels. As he now bends forward casting a glance down his person, across his flies to his shoes and up again to the treacherous little lake of faces. His left hand rose to touch the red carnation in the buttonhole of his dark grey suit.

  "Your royal highnesses, my lords, commoners, and other boys from other lands. You all know the holy season approaches. Good will towards men. And in view of the perils our Monarch and our country face, on land, on sea, and in the market place, that sentiment is not lightly spoken. Our colonies, upon which the sun never sets. India, Africa, not to mention Hong Kong, Suez, Mauritius, Tonga. To these places, one day, some of you here may go to rule in the interests of our Majesty's government. We must, therefore, send you forth with strong bodies, agile spirits, and not least of all, fair minds. Let us be quite clear on that score. Never, in this day and age, has fair mindedness been needed so much by so many. Often it is too easy to grab the quick profit and shun the long term prize. When the indecent thing to do seems the most attractive. I mean, it should never be done, the indecent thing. Now then to those of you who may be called to govern your country upon the death of a father or uncle. Let your decisions be guided by canons and codes you have found here at your school. In short, play the game. And let those among you, by whom this concept may be thought old fashioned, take heed. Those before us a hundred years did not think so, and those after us a hundred years, will not think so. That concept is as modern as it is ancient. Take fair play then firmly in your grasp. Hold it tightly. Let no foreign land, person, shake it from you. No jungle, no glacier, or desert weaken your resolve or fibre. And against all, especially the whisper that England is in a sorry mess, we declare aloud, England shall triumph, England shall overcome, England shall win."