“And what precisely have they done?” asked Domenica.
“A group of them came and sang Gaelic psalms outside my door,” he replied. “You know those awful dirges that they go in for? Well, we had a bit of that. I went out and thanked them 260
afterwards and they looked a bit disconcerted. They mumbled something about how I would hear from them again, but they didn’t seem to have much heart for it.”
“It’s so difficult to sustain a
“Cyril howled when he heard the Gaelic psalms,” said Angus Lordie. “And they thought that he was joining in. He sounded so like them! Quite uncanny! Of course he does come from Lochboisdale and he’s probably heard Gaelic psalms before.
Perhaps it made him feel homesick.”
“Oh well,” said Domenica. “These things all add to the gaiety of nations. That’s the nice thing about life in Scotland. It’s hardly dull. I’m immensely relieved that I don’t live in a dull country.”
“Such as?” asked Pat. Her gap year had taken her to Australia and then, briefly on to New Zealand. New Zealand was perhaps somewhat quiet while Australia had proved to be far from dull; at least for her.
“Oh, Belgium,” said Domenica. “Belgium is extremely dull.”
Angus Lordie nodded his head in agreement. “I’ve never quite seen the reason for Belgium,” he said. “But I certainly agree with you about its dullness. Remember that party game in which people are invited to name one famous Belgian (other than anybody called Leopold) – that’s pretty revealing, isn’t it?”
“I have a list of famous Belgians somewhere,” said Domenica rather absently. “But I think I’ve mislaid it.”
“It’ll turn up,” said Angus Lordie, taking a sip of his whisky.
“These things do. Did I tell you, by the way, that I composed a hymn about Belgium? The Church of Scotland has been revising its hymnary and was asking for more modern contributions. I composed one of which I was really rather proud. I called it
“And the words?” asked Domenica.
Angus Lordie cleared his throat. “The first verse goes as follows,” he began:
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After he had finished, he folded his hands and looked at Domenica. Pat felt uncertain. Was this serious? She had enjoyed the Chinese poem which he had declaimed to her in Scotland Street, but this hymn seemed . . . well, he couldn’t possibly mean it.
Domenica looked at Angus Lordie and raised an eyebrow.
“Did the Church of Scotland use it?” she asked.
“Inexplicably, no,” said Angus Lordie. “I had a very polite letter back, but I fear that they feel that it’s not suitable. I suppose it’s something to do with comity within Europe. We have to pretend to take Belgium seriously.”
“We live in such a humourless age,” Domenica remarked. “It used to be possible to laugh. It used to be possible to enjoy oneself with fantasies – such as your ridiculous hymn – sorry, Angus
– but now? Well, now there are all sorts of censors and killjoys. Earnest, ignorant people who lecture us on what we can think and say. And do you know, we’ve lain down and submitted to the whole process. It’s been the most remarkable display of passivity. With the result that when we encounter anybody who thinks independently, or who doesn’t echo the received wisdoms of the day, we’re astonished.”
“In such a way is freedom of thought lost,” said Angus Lordie, who had been listening very attentively to Domenica. “By small cuts. By small acts of disapproval. By a thousand discouragements of spirit.”
They were all silent for a moment as they reflected on what had been said. Domenica and Angus Lordie appeared to be in agreement, but Pat was not so sure. What was the point about being rude about Belgium? Surely we had made moral progress in recognising the sensitivities of others and in discouraging disparaging comments? What if a Belgian were to hear the words of that hymn? Would a Belgian not be gratuitously offended?
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And surely one should never criticise people for things that they cannot help – such as being Belgian?
Pat was thinking this when she became aware that the eyes of the other two were on her.
“You must understand something, my dear,” Domenica said to her. “Angus is not to be taken seriously.”
Angus Lordie nodded. “Absolutely right,” he said. “But listen, Domenica, I’m feeling bored and I want some excitement. I was wondering whether you would care to show Pat here and me the tunnel. I get a distinct feeling this is a night for exploration – of every sort.”
