The World According to Bertie

“How interesting,” said Dr Macgregor. He looked thoughtful.

“Fregoli’s Syndrome.” He added quickly, “I’m not being serious, of course.”

But Pat was interested. “Who was Fregoli?”

“An Italian clown,” said Dr Macgregor. “An Italian clown who never had the condition bearing his name.”

4. Some Words of Warning from Pat’s Father

“Yes,” said Dr Macgregor. “Fregoli came from Naples, or somewhere in those parts. He found himself in the forces of an Italian general sent to Abyssinia back in the late nineteenth century.

The Italians, as you know, bullied Abyssinia . . .” He trailed off.

“You did know that, didn’t you?” Pat shook her head. Her father knew so much, it seemed to her, and she knew so little. The Some Words of Warning from Pat’s Father 11

Italians bullied Abyssinia, did they? But where exactly was Abyssinia?

Dr Macgregor looked away, tactfully, as any sensitive person must do when he realises that the person to whom he is speaking has no idea where Abyssinia is. “Ethiopia,” he said quietly. “Haile Selassie?” He looked up, in hope; but Pat shook her head again, in answer to this second query. Then she said: “But I do know where Ethiopia is.”

That, at least, is something, he thought. And he realised, of course, that it was not her fault. His daughter belonged to a generation that had been taught no geography, and very little history. And no Latin. Nor had they been made to learn poetry by heart, with the result that nobody now could recite any poems by Burns, or Wordsworth, or Longfellow. Everything had been taken away by people who knew very little themselves, but did not know it.

“Ethiopia used to be called Abyssinia,” he said. “And the Italians had skirmishes with it from Somaliland. In due course, Mussolini used this as the casus belli for later bullying, and he invaded them. The world stood by. The Ethiopians went to the League of Nations and begged for help. Begged. But they were little men with beards, and it took some time before anyone would listen. Little dark men with beards.”

They were both silent for a moment. Pat thought: he makes it all sound so personal. He thought: we have all been such bullies; all of us. The Italians. The British. The Americans.

Bullies.

Pat looked at her father. “Mussolini was the one they hung upside down, wasn’t he?”

He sighed. “They did.”

“Maybe he deserved it.”

“No. Nobody deserves it. Nobody deserves even to be hung the right way up. Whatever somebody does, however bad he is, you must always forgive him. Right at the end, you must forgive him.”

For a moment, they were silent. He felt like saying to her 12

Some Words of Warning from Pat’s Father that there were people, right at that moment, somewhere, even in advanced countries, who were awaiting capital punishment; people whose days and hours were ticking away under such sentences; such was the hardness of the human heart, or of some human hearts. But he did not say it; instead, he looked up at her and smiled.

“Yes,” he said. “Our friend Fregoli impressed this Italian general – and can’t you just imagine the splendid uniform that general would have had? Such stylish people. He impressed him so much with his quick-change act that he was taken off military duties and became a performer. He would appear on stage wearing one thing, nip off, and then appear within seconds wearing a completely different outfit. People loved it.”

“And why . . .” Pat began to ask.

“The human mind,” said Dr Macgregor, “is capable of infinite deception – both of others and of itself. If you began to think that somebody in your life was really another person in disguise, then you would have, I’m afraid, Fregoli’s Syndrome.

You might begin to think that I was not really myself, but was a very accomplished actor.”

“How strange.”

“Yes, how strange,” said Dr Macgregor. “But it gets even stranger. There’s another condition, one called Capgras Syndrome, where you believe that people you know have been replaced by imposters. The whole thing is a carefully orchestrated act put on by a team of imposters. That may be your best friend talking to you, but you’re not fooled!

You know that it’s really an actor pretending to be your best friend.”

Pat laughed. “But it was Bruce,” she said. “Or at least I thought it was.”

“Then I’m sure it was,” said Dr Macgregor. “You’re a very reliable witness of things. You always have been.”

But now it was Pat’s turn to doubt. “Isn’t it true, though, that the mind can fill in the details if it sees just one thing that it Some Words of Warning from Pat’s Father 13

recognises? One of our lecturers said something about that. He was talking about how we look at paintings.”

“It’s certainly true,” said Dr Macgregor. “We want to reorganise the world, and that makes our brains jump the gun –

sometimes. You look at a newspaper headline, take in one word, and before you know it your brain says: yes, that’s what it says.

But it may not.”