The Dunce Chapter 3

Johnny walked along the road to Berwickshire High School in eager anticipation. At this morning’s school assembly the Rector was going to announce the results of the essay competition; the competition that Johnny had spent almost the whole of his summer holidays preparing for. He remembered clearly the announcement that the Rector had made during the last week of the summer term, Riever’s Week when the town was decked with brightly coloured flags and troops of horse-mounted followers rode with the Riever and his lass to prominent sites within the town. There was the crowning of the Winsome Maid, a primary 7 girl, and sports down at the park. On the Thursday night there was a torchlight procession when Johnny put on an old pyjama jacket over his clothes and wore an old bunnet of his dad’s to prevent the dripping wax from his own and other people’s torches from spoiling his decent clothes or singeing his hair. Isabel Aitken had been walking with her friends just in front of Johnny in the procession and had turned and given him a smile that affected him like the flame affected the candle wax. He’d grinned back, hoping that in the torchlight, she wouldn’t see the redness spreading across his face. Afterwards he’d lain in bed kicking himself for his failure to capitalise on the moment but it was gone. Anyway on the next day, Friday, the last day at school before the summer holidays, the Rector had made the announcement.

“Boys and girls, as many of you will be aware John Duns Scotus, the famous theologian and philosopher was born in Duns. In September there will be a series of events to commemorate his birth 700 years ago. Due to the kindness of an anonymous benefactor I am able to announce an essay competition with a first prize of 30 shillings, a second prize of £1, and a third prize of 10 shillings. The topic of the competition is John Duns Scotus. Essays have to be submitted in August on the first day of the new term and the winners will be announced on Monday 12 September. All the best to those who decide to have a go.”

Johnny recalled the day years ago when he’d been in primary school. “Dunn the Dunce” had been the taunt. He recalled the derivation of the insult and how he’d been intrigued by the eponymous Duns Scotus. Here was an opportunity to find out more about the mysterious mediaeval philosopher and possibly to win himself 30 bob into the bargain. He was already spending the money in his mind. There was that braw cream, brown and green Tattersall check shirt in the Co-op window that he’d had his eyes on for weeks. Then again he would like to order the LP of the D’Oyly Carte production of Iolanthe. However attractive the money was, even more attractive was the opportunity to research the life of a man he felt intimately tied to his own life and experience, a Duns Dinger like himself and someone for whom thinking was a way of life. He decided that he was going to have a go.

As Johnny walked along towards the Biscuit Factory, the affectionate name that the pupils had for the new Berwickshire High School, he looked to the south towards Grueldykes, the farm that had been in the hands of the family of Duns Scotus. On this mid-September morning, the dew glistened on the bales of straw. The barley was nearly all combined and bagged up in the sheds or else off to McCreath’s, the grain merchants. The green foggage was already growing up through the white stubble. In one of the fields that had been combined early, a blue Fordson Major tractor was drawing a plough, cutting and turning the earth, followed by a flock of gulls that swooped and fought over every worm exposed by the glistening, steel shares. This was usually a time of nostalgia for Johnny as summer gave way to autumn. Behind him were the balmy summer days of bathing in the Whiteadder, walking along the country roads around Duns where the tar bubbled and the bubbles popped as they were trodden on, and playing cricket in the park with a tennis ball and a cheap bat and mixed teams in terms of gender and age, just everyone joining in together. But this day was different. He wasn’t thinking of the summer past but of the future announcement.

His mind turned back again to other summer activities. He thought of hours spent in the town library reading and making notes on everything they had on John Duns Scotus. He thought of the walk up Bridgend to the Catholic church and the long chat with the priest about what it might have been like to be a Catholic in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries rather than to be a Presbyterian in the middle of the twentieth century. He thought of his holiday with his cousins in Leith and his daily walk up Leith Walk and Leith Street, then round past the General Post Office onto the North Bridge and then right onto the High Street to St Giles Cathedral, and left onto George IV Bridge and into the National Library of Scotland. On the first day he had presented the librarian with the letter from Duns library that identified him as a bona fide scholar with an interest in John Duns Scotus. He had read as much as he could of what Scotland’s library held on Duns Scotus. He even struggled with some of Duns Scotus’s Latin but it was away beyond what he had learned in two years of secondary school Latin. After carefully reading, sifting, and re-reading his notes, he had crafted the first draft of his 2500 word essay. He read this draft to both his Mum and his Dad and they made helpful suggestions where they felt his English was clumsy or unclear. He took on board the suggestions of his parents and produced a final draft in his best handwriting. This was submitted on the first day of the new term.

Now Johnny was standing with the rest of his class in the hall. The Rector mounted the stage. Johnny felt the butterflies in his stomach and his mouth went dry. He could barely mouth the words of the hymn, All Creatures of Our God and King but he did think it an appropriate choice for the occasion, a hymn by St Francis in a week when a great Franciscan would be commemorated. Then after the hymn was a scripture reading. It passed right over Johnny. The Rector approached the podium.

“Boys and girls,” he started, “You will recall that when we met here in July, I issued challenge and announced prizes for the three best essays on that famous son of Duns, John Duns Scotus. I would like to thank all those who rose to the challenge and who spent at least some of their valued summer holiday doing the research and writing to meet this challenge. I can announce that we have three worthy winners and as is usual practice on occasions such as this I will announce them in reverse order. In third place is an exceptionally fine effort by Isabel Aitken.”

A great cheer went up with a vigorous round of applause. “Not just a pretty face then” thought Johnny, then immediately cursed himself for having such a patronising thought. He watched Isabel go up and collect her envelope from the Rector.

“In second place, with a piece of exceptionally mature scholarship, Johnny Dunn.”

“Go on. Up you go.” Ally Grant, who was standing next to Johnny nudged him.

Johnny felt a lump in his throat. Second place. All that work for second place. He could hardly believe it. He moved along the row and walked up the aisle and onto the stage, all the time battling to keep a smile on his face. He approached the Rector and mechanically held out one hand to receive the envelope with the pound note in it and at the same time shook the Rector’s hand. He could hear the cheers and the clapping but they were the applause for the runner-up, the also-ran, the person who could not quite make the grade. He shuffled to the back of the stage to take his place beside Isabel. “Well done, Johnny” she smiled and shook his hand. “Congratulations to you too” he replied. The Rector held up one hand to still the cheering and clapping.

“And now for the winner of the John Duns Scotus Essay Competition, for an absolutely sterling effort - Alexander Thompson.” A great cheer went up and the fourth years boys made a thunderous sound stamping on the floor. Johnny felt that he had been punched in the stomach. Eck Tamson had been one of the lads who had hit and jeered Johnny on that afternoon at Primary School when he’d first heard of John Duns Scotus. He was a year older than Johnny. Now he had won what Johnny desired most. He realised that Isabel was speaking to him.

“Sorry” he apologised, “Ma mind was somewhere else.”

“Ah was just sayin’ that the judges must have found something that the rest o us missed in Eck.”

It was true that Eck had never been considered to be one of the most academically gifted pupils at the high school. He was already 15 and was probably going to leave school at Christmas time without taking his O-grades. His father was an agricultural dealer who was quite well off and it was likely that Eck would be absorbed into the family business.

After receiving his prize, Eck joined Isabel and Johnny. At the end of the Assembly as they climbed down the steps to rejoin their classes, Eck whispered to Johnny, “Dunn the Dunce”. It was all Johnny could do to first of all refrain from walloping Thomson and secondly to keep composed and not show his great hurt.

There was compensation. As they were walking back to their places in the hall Isabel said to Johnny,

“Let’s celebrate. See you in Forte’s efter school the night.”

That day was one of the slowest in Johnny’s school career. He now knew what the term bittersweet meant. In one day he’d had the bitterness of missing out on the prize he’d desired so much but there was also the sweet promise of time with Isabel after school.

When the final bell rang Johnny rushed out to the main gates and caught up with Isabel. Together they walked into the town and found a free table in Forte’s café. The air was rich with the smell of fresh coffee and the raspberry sauce that was poured over ice cream sundaes. Johnny ordered two coffees and took them over to the table. Johnny had known Isabel since Primary School but had only really noticed her during the summer holidays. They drank their coffee and chatted and laughed together until Isabel said “Well I’d better be getting’ hame for ma tea.” Johnny walked with her to the corner of The Square where she lived.” He could hardly kiss her at teatime in the Square but she took his hand and squeezed it and said “Thanks. That was lovely. See you the morn.” Johnny had never quite felt the way he did before. The whole of Duns seemed to take on a new magical quality. The buildings looked brighter. He felt a warmth towards everyone, even Eck Tamson.

When Johnny got home, the tea was already on the table and his Mum and Dad were just sitting down to scrambled egg on toast.

“You’re late, “said Mum, “How did you get on in the essay competition?”

“Only second” replied Johnny.

“Only! Only!” exclaimed his Mum. “Second oot of a’ the folk in that school and you’re only just into third year. That’s a great achievement.”

“Whae won?” asked Dad.

“Eck Tamson” replied Johnny.

“What Dealer Tamson’s son?” queried Dad.

“Aye Dad, Whae else?”

“Well there’s a turn up. Ah never had him doon as a scholar.”

The next day both Isabel and Johnny received invitations from Provost Lennie to attend the celebrations to commemorate the birth of John Duns Scotus on the following Saturday. The day afternoon started with a service attended by senior figures in the Catholic, Presbyterian and Scottish Episcopal churches as well as the provost and other town notables. Johnny sat with Isabel in the congregation and they both saw Eck Tamson sitting up with the notables beaming down at them. After the service, the whole party went in procession up Castle Street to the lodge at the gates of Duns Castle. There on a grassy knoll to the right of the gates stood a new cairn marking the birthplace of the philosopher which was unveiled. Again Eck stood with the important guests and had his photograph taken with them. After the rest of the party moved down towards the Public Park, Johnny and Isabel went over to read the words on the cairn.

John Duns Scotus
The Subtle Doctor
And a member of the Franciscan Order
Was born on this site in 1266
Wherever his distinguished name is uttered
He sheds lustre on Duns and Scotland
The town and land which bore him

Erected by the Franciscan Order
On the seventh century of his birth
September 1966

When Johnny and Isabel looked up, they were alone. Everyone had moved off to see the unveiling of a statue by the sculptor Frank Tritschler in the park.

“It makes you feel quite insignificant yet also important,” said Johnny.

“Are you going tae be a philosopher an a’?” laughed Isabel. “Come on let’s catch up wi’ the others or we’ll miss the unveilin’ o’ the statue.”

Johnny thought another chance missed but took Isabel’s hand and they careered down the hill to catch up with the rest of the party.

On the following Tuesday The Berwickshire News reported Saturday’s events. Several of the photos showed beaming Eck amongst the many dignitaries. Included inside the paper was a full transcript of his essay. After his father had finished with the paper, Johnny took it and without much interest started to read The Life and Thought of John Duns Scotus by Alexander Thompson. As he read, it seemed to be familiar. Suddenly he exclaimed, “No it can’t be!” He went upstairs and brought down a volume that he’d bought in a second hand bookshop in Edinburgh for sixpence. There it was. Paragraph after paragraph had been copied from Medieval Thought by Gordon Leff. In fairness to Eck Tamson he had corrected one error in Leff’s work. Leff had obviously been taken in by the Brockie Forgeries and had listed Scotus’s birthplace as Littledean in Roxburgh. Tamson had changed this to Duns in his essay which otherwise followed Leff word for word.

The next day Johnny told Isabel what he had discovered.

“Ye’ll need tae tell the heidie,” said Isabel.

“No ah cannae dae that. It’ll jist look like sour grapes. Ony way a’m no a clype. A’ll speak wi’ Eck himsel’”

Johnny went and sought out Tamson. When he found him he produced his copy of Leff’s book and said, “A ken what ye’ve done Eck. You’re a cheat.”

Tamson went very white then red with anger. “Aye and what are ye goin’ tae dae aboot it, Dunce?”

“No a thing Tamson, but A’ ken and you ken and that’s what matters tae me.”

A month later during assembly the Rector stood up and in his gravest tones announced,

“I’ve got some rather sad news to report. We have a cheat in our midst.”

Johnny saw Eck Tamson turn and look at him with anger in his eyes. The Rector carried on,

“Yesterday I was contacted by Penguin Books. They had seen a copy of Alexander Thompson’s essay in The Berwickshire News and recognised it as coming from a book they published. They intended to sue for breach of copyright but when they were told that the author was a schoolboy they dropped their action but insisted on an apology to be printed in the next issue of the paper. I am going to ask Thompson to return the prize which will be awarded now to Johnny Dunn, the winner of the John Duns Scotus Essay Prize.”

A huge cheer went up in the hall and while it was going on, Eck Tamson slinked out, almost unnoticed. The Rector held up his hand again to bid silence.

“I have a further announcement to make. His Holiness Pope Paul has invited Provost Lennie and the Town Clerk to Rome for an audience in December. Provost Lennie will be accepting the invitation but has told me that he is asking His Holiness if Johnny Dunn can accompany the party to Rome since Johnny missed out his rightful place during the Duns Scotus celebrations.”

Johnny caught Isabel’s eye and saw she was smiling. He winked at her and she blew him a kiss.