The History Boys (8 page)

Your teaching, however effective it may or may not have been, has always seemed to me to be selfish, less to do with the interests of the boys than some cockeyed notion you have about culture.

Sharing may correct that. In the meantime you must consider your position. I do not want to sack you. It's so untidy. It would be easier for all concerned if you retired early.

Hector is going
.

Hector
Nothing happened.

Headmaster
A hand on a boy's genitals at fifty miles an hour, and you call it nothing?

Hector
The transmission of knowledge is in itself an erotic act. In the Renaissance …

Headmaster
Fuck the Renaissance. And fuck literature and Plato and Michaelangelo and Oscar Wilde and all the other shrunken violets you people line up. This is a school and it isn't normal.

Hector has just seen the Headmaster and, having got into
his motorcycle gear, is sitting alone in the classroom
.

Posner comes in
.

Hector
Ah, Posner.

No Dakin?

Posner
With Mr Irwin, sir.

Hector
Of course.

Posner
They're going through old exam papers. Picking out questions.

Hector
Ah.

Pornography.

No matter. We must carry on the fight without him.

What have we learned this week?

Posner
‘Drummer Hodge', sir.

Hardy.

Hector
Oh. Nice.

Posner says the poem off by heart

‘They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest

Uncoffined – just as found:

His landmark is the kopje-crest

That breaks the veldt around;

And foreign constellations west

Each night above his mound.

‘Young Hodge the Drummer never knew –

Fresh from his Wessex home –

The meaning of the broad Karoo,

The Bush, the dusty loam,

And why uprose to nightly view

Strange stars amid the gloam.

‘Yet portion of that unknown plain

Will Hodge for ever be;

His homely Northern breast and brain

Grow to some Southern tree,

And strange-eyed constellations reign

His stars eternally.'

Hector
Good. Very good. Any thoughts?

Posner sits next to him
.

Posner
I wondered, sir, if this ‘Portion of that unknown plain / Will Hodge forever be' is like Rupert Brooke, sir. ‘There's some corner of a foreign field …' ‘In that rich earth a richer dust concealed …'

Hector
It is. It is. It's the same thought … though Hardy's is better, I think … more … more, well, down to earth. Quite literally, yes, down to earth.

Anything about his name?

Posner
Hodge?

Hector
Mmm – the important thing is that he has a name. Say Hardy is writing about the Zulu Wars or later the Boer War possibly, and, these were the first campaigns when soldiers … or common soldiers … were commemorated, the names of the dead recorded and inscribed on war memorials. Before this, soldiers … private soldiers anyway, were all unknown soldiers, and so far from being revered there was a firm in the nineteenth century, in Yorkshire of course, which swept up their bones from the battlefields of Europe in order to grind them into fertiliser.

So, thrown into a common grave though he may be, he is still Hodge the drummer. Lost boy though he is on the other side of the world, he still has a name.

Posner
How old was he?

Hector
If he's a drummer he would be a young soldier, younger than you probably.

Posner
No. Hardy.

Hector
Oh, how old was Hardy? When he wrote this, about sixty. My age, I suppose.

Saddish life, though not unappreciated.

‘Uncoffined' is a typical Hardy usage.

A compound adjective, formed by putting ‘un-' in front of the noun. Or verb, of course.

Un-kissed. Un-rejoicing. Un-confessed. Un-embraced.

It's a turn of phrase he has bequeathed to Larkin, who liked Hardy, apparently.

He does the same.

Un-spent. Un-fingermarked.

And with both of them it brings a sense of not sharing, of being out of it.

Whether because of diffidence or shyness, but a holding back. Not being in the swim. Can you see that?

Posner
Yes, sir. I felt that a bit.

Hector
The best moments in reading are when you come across something – a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things – which you had thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours.

He puts out his hand, and it seems for a moment as if
Posner will take it, or even that Hector may put it on
Posner's knee. But the moment passes.

Shall we just have the last verse again and I'll let you go.

Posner does the last verse again.

Dakin comes in
.

And now, having thrown in Drummer Hodge, as found, here reporting for duty, helmet in hand, is young Lieutenant Dakin.

Dakin
I'm sorry, sir.

Hector
No, no. You were more gainfully employed, I'm sure.

Why the helmet?

Dakin
My turn on the bike.

It's Wednesday, sir.

Hector
Is it? So it is.

But no. Not today.

No. Today I go a different way.

‘The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You that way, we this way.'

Hector goes briskly off, leaving Dakin and Posner
wondering
.

Irwin is about five years older and in a wheelchair; he is
talking to camera
.

Irwin
If you want to learn about Stalin study Henry VIII.

If you want to learn about Mrs Thatcher study Henry VIII.

If you want to know about Hollywood study Henry VIII.

Music and video sequence
.

This is Rievaulx Abbey and this vertiginous trench is its main latrine.

It is a sad fact that whatever the sublimity and splendour of the ruins of our great abbeys to the droves of often apathetic visitors the monastic life only comes alive when contemplating its toilet arrangements. (
He
coughs and stops
.)

The Director comes on in outdoor gear, so that it's
plain this is being filmed
.

Director
Are you okay?

Irwin
Fine.

Director
Sounding a tad schoolmasterly. Touch of the Mr Quelches. Smile-in-the-voice time, you know?

Irwin
Yes?

Director
Pick it up from ‘the monastic life'.

Irwin
The monastic life only comes alive when contemplating its toilet arrangements.

Not monks stumbling down the night stairs at three in the morning to sing the first office of the day; not the sound of prayer and praise unceasing sent heavenwards from altar and cell; no, what fires the popular imagination is stuff from the reredorter plopping twenty feet into the drains.

God is dead. Shit lives.

Wanting toilet paper, or paper of any description, the monks used to wipe their bottoms on scraps of fabric … linen, muslin, patches of tapestry even, which presumably they would rinse and rinse again before eventually discarding them. Some of these rags survive, excavated from the drains into which they were dropped five hundred years ago and more, and here now find themselves exhibited in the abbey museum.

The patron saint here, whose bones were buried at Rievaulx, was Aelred. And it is conceivable that one of these ancient arsewipes was actually used by the saint. Which at that time would have made it a relic, something at which credulous pilgrims would come to gaze.

But what are these modern-day pilgrims gazing at but these same ancient rags, hallowed not by saintly usage, it's true, but by time … and time alone? They are old and they have survived. And there is an increment even in excrement, so sanitised by the years and sanctified, too, they have become relics in their own right … and more pilgrims come now to see them and these other remains than ever came in the age of faith.

We are differently credulous and our cults are not the same but saner, wiser, more rationa l…

(
He stumbles again
.) I think not.

Sorry.

Director
Not like you.

You're sure you're okay?

Irwin
Fine.

Director
Let's take five.

Irwin wheels himself back to someone who has been
watching
.

Irwin
Familiar?

Man
Some of it.

Irwin
Meretricious, of course, but that's nothing new.

Man
I've forgotten what meretricious means.

Irwin
Eye-catching, showy; false.

Man
But you were a good teacher.

Irwin
The meretricious often are … on television particularly.

The wheelchair helps, of course.

Disability brings with it an assumption of sincerity.

Pause
.

I hope they're paying you well.

Whose idea was it?

Man
I have a counsellor. She thought it would help.

Irwin
What happened at Oxford?

Man
Cambridge.

It didn't work out.

Irwin
I think I heard that.

Man
All the effort went into getting there and then I had nothing left. I thought I'd got somewhere, then I found I had to go on.

Pause
.

About the money, my counsellor said that if I was paid for it, that would be theraputic.

Irwin
I'm surprised anyone's interested.

It's not much of a story.

Man
You're a celebrity. It doesn't have to be.

Irwin
And did you write it yourself?

Man
Yes. Well, I talked to someone from the paper.

You come out of it very well.

Irwin
And Hector?

The Man says nothing
.

Man
I didn't say anything about you and Dakin.

Irwin
Nothing happened between me and Dakin.

Man
I think it did.

Irwin
No. It's not true.

Man
You used to say that wasn't important.

Pause
.

You liked him.

Irwin says nothing
.

I wondered if you wanted to talk about it.

Irwin
Why? Nothing happened.

Man
He liked you … didn't he?

Tell me, sir. I need to know.

Irwin
Why? Why?

Pause
.

Are you miked?

Man says nothing
.

You're miked, aren't you?

Jesus.

How did you come to this?

Man
They won't print it unless you say something.

Irwin
Good.

Man
It's a chance to tell your side of the story.

Irwin
There is no story.

Man
You don't want to seem like Hector.

Irwin
I wasn't like Hector.

Now fuck off.

I must return to the world of Henry VIII. It suddenly seems almost cosy.

He is wheeling himself away
.

Director
Ready?

Man
Sir.

Would you sign your book?

He has a book written by Irwin open.

Irwin shakes his head but takes the book
.

Irwin
Whom shall I put it to?

Man
Me. David.

Irwin
I never called you David. I called you Posner.

I'll put ‘To Posner', if that doesn't seem unfriendly.

Which it is.

Posner
(
appealing
) Sir.

The make-up assistant hustles Posner away. Irwin
shakes his head again and goes back into the light
.

Irwin
Okay.

Director
I'll cue you.

Irwin's
Voice We are differently credulous and our cults are not the same … but saner, wiser, more rational … I think not.

Irwin
Ours is an easier faith. Where they reverenced sanctity we reverence celebrity; they venerated strenuous piety; we venerate supine antiquity. In our catechism old is good, older is better, ancient is best with a bonus on archaeology because it's the closest history comes to shopping.

Whatever we tell ourselves, things matter to us more than people. Not the scattering of communities or the torments of the martyrs or the putting of an end to prayer, no, what shocks us today about the Dissolution is the loss of
things
. Which, since monasticism originated in a flight from things, is something of an irony. So that you could say that it was at the moment of the Dissolution that the monasteries came closest to the ideals of their foundation and that it was thanks to the villain Henry VIII that the monasteries achieved their purpose and their apotheosis.

A silence
.

Director
Lovely. Though we're still not sure about apotheosis.

Irwin
It is BBC2.

Classroom
.

Hector is in sombre and distracted mood
.

Posner
(
young
) ‘Apotheosis: a perfect example of its type. Moment of highest fulfilment.'

Hector is miles away
.

Sir. Apotheosis. Moment of highest fulfilment.

Hector
Oh yes. Very good, dictionary person.

Now. Can I have your attention. I … I have something I have to … tell you.

Pause
.

Akthar
We know, sir.

Hector
Oh.

Dakin
About sharing lessons with Mr Irwin, sir?

Hector
Ah.

Lockwood
Why is that, sir?

Hector
That?

Oh. It's just a question of timetable, apparently.

No. What I was going to tell you …

Lockwood
What's the point, sir?

Your lessons are so different from his.

The whole ethos is different, sir.

Timms
And we relish the contrast, sir.

Crowther
Revel in it, sir.

Lockwood
Yin and yang, sir.

Akthar
The rapier cut and thrust, sir.

Timms
It's all about variety, sir.

Hector
Hush, boys. Hush. Sometimes … sometimes you defeat me.

Dakin
Oh no, sir. If we wanted to defeat you we would be like Cordelia and say nothing.

Hector
Can't you see I'm not in the mood?

Dakin
What mood is that, sir? The subjunctive? The mood of possibility? The mood of might-have-been?

Hector
Get on with some work. Read.

Lockwood
Read, sir? Oh come on, sir. That's no fun.

Akthar
Boring.

Hector
Am I fun? Is that what I am?

Timms
Not today, sir. No fun at all.

Hector
Is that what you think these lessons are? Fun?

Lockwood
But fun is good, sir.

You always say …

Posner
Not just fun, sir.

Akthar
(
pointing at Posner
) Would you like him to sing to you, sir? Would that help?

Hector
Shut up! Just shut up. All of you.

SHUT UP, you mindless fools.

What made me piss my life away in this god-forsaken place? There's nothing of me left. Go away. Class dismissed. Go.

He puts his head down on the desk.

There are some giggles and face-pullings before they
realise it's serious.

Now they're nonplussed and embarrassed.

Scripps indicates to Dakin that Hector is crying.

Scripps is nearest to him and ought to touch him,
but doesn't, nor does Dakin.

Posner is the one who comes and after some
hesitation pats Hector rather awkwardly on the back,
saying, ‘Sir.'

Then he starts, still very awkwardly, to rub his back
.

Scripps
I was the nearest. I ought to have been the one to reach out and touch him. But I just watched.

Dakin did nothing either. Neither of us did.

He looks at Dakin, who looks away
.

Later I wrote it all down.

Hector sits up and blows his nose loudly
.

Hector
I don't know what all that was about, I'm sure.

Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail.

I am an old man in a dry season. Enough.

The boys are still a bit abashed
.

Timms
These two have got something to cheer you up, sir.

Dakin
Oh yes. A film, sir.

Hector
Oh, a film. Goody goody. And twenty-three pounds in the kitty!

Dakin
(
indicating Scripps
) He's the woman, sir.

Hector
Off you go.

Francesca
(Scripps) is playing Beethoven's ‘Pathétique'
Sonata on the piano. James Mason (Dakin), her
guardian, limps to the piano.

Dakin
Francesca. You belong to me. We must always be together. You know that, don't you? Promise you'll stay with me always. Promise.

She slowly shakes her head
.

Very well. If that's the way you want it. If you won't play for me, you shan't play for anybody ever again.

He brings his stick down across her fingers on the
keyboard. She shrieks and rushes sobbing from the
room
.

Hector
If I say Greig's Piano Concerto?

Dakin/Scripps
No, sir.

Hector
If I say
Svengali
?

Dakin/Scripps
(
beginning to congratulate themselves
) No, sir. No.

Hector
And if I say 1945, James Mason and Anne Todd in
The Seventh Veil
?

Dakin/Scripps
Aww, sir!

The other boys are delighted at their failure
.

Hector
Pay up, pay up and play the game!

The bell goes. Hector is left, after they've all cleared,
sitting at the table
.

Headmaster
Did he say why he was going?

Mrs Lintott
More or less.

Headmaster
I am surprised. I have said nothing to anyone.

As I left it he was considering his position.

I hope he will go.

Mrs Lintott
He would like to stay. To work out his time.

That's what I wanted to ask.

Headmaster
Shall I tell you what is wrong with Hector as a teacher?

It isn't that he doesn't produce results. He does. But they are unpredictable and unquantifiable and in the current educational climate that is no use. He may well be doing his job, but there is no method that I know of that enables me to assess the job that he is doing.

There is inspiration, certainly, but how do I quantify that? And he has no notion of boundaries. A few weeks ago I caught him teaching French. French!

English is his subject. And I happened to hear one child singing yesterday morning, and on enquiry I find his pupils know all the words of ‘When I'm Cleaning Windows'. George Formby. And Gracie Fields. Dorothy, what has Gracie Fields got to do with anything?

So the upshot is I am glad he handled his pupils' balls because that at least I can categorise.

It is a reason for him going no one can dispute.