Free The History Boys by Alan Bennett Page A

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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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 .

Act Two
    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