Read Online The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B by J.P. Donleavy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J.P. Donleavy
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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
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
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