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The S.C.M. campaign opened on Wednesday last to a quite fair audience (both in number and sex) with Jack Froude as Chairman, anxious to get rid of the chair, Eventually the principal speaker Lex Miller, agreed to accept it, though without the profusion of thanks that the gift seemed to merit.
The Church, said Lex Miller, was only a company of the whole community just as sinful as the mass, but it had come to see that it had crucified Christ: and this realisation was like a commission laid on it to testify as to God—to point to facts that will help to interpret the real meaning of life.
Facing these facts we saw, first, that our knowledge was inadequate to explain life. Misfortune, sadness fell on good and bad alike, and there did not seem to be any intellectual solution.
We saw that there was a gap between what man wanted to be and what he was that could not be disclosed by human will.
We saw further that our environment did not minister to our needs.
There were two alternative suggestions: first, the stoic suggestion that we should cut down our desires to the level the world would satisfy. This was the logic of the materialist school.
And so we saw that man could not live unto himself. Christ's reign on earth was testimony of this. We knew we were helpless Christ came to prove it.
The claim that "service" and "brotherhood" ideals were substitutes for religion was refuted by the fact that man was not by nature brotherly, but selfish: and man could not alter this by his own will. With the intervention of Christianity man could be seen—not as he was, boorish, dull, but in a new light as the object of God's love.
Mr. Katz suggested that the gap between what man was and what he ought to be could be closed by greater social co-operation. The speaker had said that a world, perfect materially, would be meaningless without a further fact, and he asked us to believe this without one hint of what it was or how it affected us.
Lex Miller replied that Christianity was essentially a supernatural religion and that the new world that came from the knowledge of Christ would always be the most important fact.
On Thursday, Mr. Froude and Miss Feltham spoke on "The Real Problem." Mr Froude explained that the Christian faith is not a method of running our lives or the world. It is God's Message to us, obedience to which creates a definite community with definite rules.
Miss Feltham said the greatest difficulty in the Christian faith was how to live it. A Christian would find help in the intelligent reading of his Bible and in prayer.
The attractions of "Chinese White were not all-absorbing, for on Friday night a few ardent spirits gathered to listen to addresses of the tragedy of being a student.
Miss Hoby, speaking briefly and pleasantly, said that we were here to gain fullness of life. We could not do this without entering into the social life of the college: but above all we must seek with sincerity and courage for the meaning of existence—for the logos.
Mr. Nash described the problems—social, political and international—that confront us. Our solutions to these problems are dependent on our attitude to God. Christ taught the love of God and of our neighbour. In the light of this teaching, the student will use his specialised knowledge to the benefit of the community.
A brisk discussion followed. The chairman (Mr. Miller) dealt ably with many questions. There was a real effort to arrive at the basic proofs of Christianity. Mr. Miller would have it that the vital things in life could not be proved after the manner of a geometrical theorem but that a man's faith in God was comparable to the certainty felt by lovers.
Professor Williams shows the proper attitude towards the Professorial Board. He forgot to attend his first meeting.
Professor Adamson's speech at the Law dinner was the most valuable contribution of the evening. Apart from pointing out that the Law Faculty was the most active and influential of all Faculties at V.U.C. he made important points in connection with legal education.
When the arrived in New Zealand he had advocated the establishment of a central law school, the nucleus of which would be provided by giving bursaries to ten students from each province. With such a beginning the school would have grown rapidly and the appointment of teachers who were specialists in their subjects would have been made possible. No man could he such on ubiquitous expert as was required of present. But he was told it would cost too much: "not as much as we are now spending on teaching of law in the four centres," said the Professor. The failure to accept these improvements was due to the parochialism and self-assurance of New Zealanders.
Othello: . . . Sweet soul, take need. Thou'rt on thy death-bed.
Desdemona: I never did offend you in my life . . never loved to sio . . .
Othello. . . . He hath confessed. . . . It is too late, [Smothers her.]
"Othello," Shaks, v.z.
Sheila (furiously): For heaven's sake, stop. I've told you, its no good, Gerald. Its over . . . . what do you know about my relations with Leslie, anyway: How do you know he wasn't my lover?
Gerald (losing all control): You—: (He shook her by the throat.)
The second passage is from "Chinese White," a melodrama by Val Gielgud, wisely selected by the Dramatic Club as their initial production for the year. Mr. Gielgud. good man of the theatre, has recognised that what was good enough for Shakespeare is good enough for him. I think it would have been better melodrama and less pretentious stuff if he had gone the whole hog and strangled Sheila. He would thereby have gained the sympathy and interest of his audience.
Perhaps the person who contributed most to the success of the piece was the producer. Once again Mr. Edwards created atmosphere and vivid stage-pictures on a confined platform that could not offer the amenities of a padded cell.
The play itself was a simple exercise in melodrama, replete with triangle, wronged wife (?), refined brigandage, virtue far above rubies, epigrams, and two magnificent Chinese soldiers presented with sublime stolidity by Messrs. Katz and Kelly.
One must admit that the Chinese come off with the honours, and in the earlier scene dominated by Nesbitt Sellers excellent villian, General Wn. We had the strongest and most satisfying scene in the play. Grouping movement and team-work had an almost professional precision.
Miss Gallagher, confident and unobtrusive, gave a little gem of characterisation as the loyal wife of the resident missionary, the Reverend James. Mr. Sandford was an extremely coy divine.
The burden of the work fell to Miss Nan Welch and Mr. Jack Aimers, as the ill-assorted Have-locks; an unpleasant work it was. The lady is a shallow creature, and her husband a pretty blackguard. Mr. Aimers rather over-blackguarded, and perhaps Miss Welch foundered a little in the shallows. But such errors they made were due to inexperience and self-consciousness. Changes of mood were taken too violently, movements and gestures lacked spontaneity and the emotional passages did not always have the ring of sincerity. Both young players deserve special mention for the conscientious and intelligent interpretations they offered.
Mr. Jack Coyle played with the part of Leslie Dale. Who could forget his performance in "While Parents Sleep"? The audience couldn't.
In conclusion, one may say that the cast did only as well as a raucous and ill-mannered audience permitted them.
"Shall L. refer to him as Prof, as Dr., as Jimmy or Bill, or can I, in view of his part achievements, relying on the doctrine of estoppel, just refer to him as 'the fraud," he being an expert on this branch of the Law?"
So opened Mr. A. T. S. McGhie, when proposing the toast of "Our Guest" at the dinner of welcome accorded by the Law Faculty Club to Professor Williams, our new Professor of English and New Zealand Law. The opening is typical of the friendly spirit which pervaded the gathering of Professors, members of the Bar, and students who met "in informal dress" to dine and drink beer at the Duke of Edinburgh Hotel.
Under the keen eye of Professors Adamson and Rankine Brown, Mr. J. C. White, in the chair, managed to propose the loyal toast and, being the first toast of the evening, it was drunk with evident satisfaction.
Mr. Cornish, K.C., ex-Professor, etc., of V.U.C., while having to admit that "they still teach Law passably at Otago," acclaimed the Law Faculty as the leading Faculty at V.U.C., and V.U.C. as the leading law school of the Dominion: and proposed the toast accordingly.
Mr. O'Leary recalled the time when the attended the V.U.C., when there was no V.U.C. and when the common-room had been the bar of the Hotel Cecil—"a legal refresher, indeed."
Professor Adamson was cheered by his students when he rose to reply to the Solicitor General's toast on behalf of the Law Faculty and to welcome the youth, vigour and learning of Professor Williams. We trust that his suggestions for reforming the law courses in this country will not go unheeded. In remembering what we owe to Professor Adamson, it is interesting to note that it was energy which led to the establishment of travelling scholarships in law, one of which Professor Williams held.
Mr. McGhie dispelled disillusions in disclosing that the students were "vitally and apprehensively" interested in the present trails of the legal profession. "These times are times of change. . . may the twin reforming stars of Adamson and Williams shine in the legal firmament with a brilliance that knows no setting." Thus he went on in stressing the significance of the appointment of Professor Williams.
"And now time, which in this case is of the essence, is running against me. Let us become engrossed in the articles of our association, remembering that our liability in this respect is unlimited, be the same a little more or less. In order to put no further restraint on your anticipation, I ask you to rise and drink to the retainer in perpetuity of the health of Professor Williams."
We can assure readers that the toast was honoured with a respect and heartiness seldom accorded to any who come amongst us in the role of masters.
Our anticipation of an interesting reply from Professor Williams was not disappointed; two stories evidencing the parochialism of New Zealanders being part of our fare. He recounted that he had been met by the following remark from an Aucklander. "I am glad you were appointed to that position. When are you taking ship to Melbourne?" And also, "I five to seven years you may learn something of the elements of the law, but I can't picture you ever teaching English."
His listeners recognised the earnestness of the Professor's hope to be able to follow in the footsteps of his predecessors, and we assure him that his students will loyally extend to him the support, help and co-operation he requested for the full success of his efforts.
Let Otago boast its beer and its Medical School, Canterbury its mellow buildings, Auckland its modernity. The pride of Victoria is her library. During the summer months Mr. Brooks and his assistants worked hard and well to provide adequate accommodation for its growing riches. They have fitted up two new rooms, one of which is at present filled with science books, Mr Miller is, however, anxious that it should not be known as the science room, since he does not intend to reserve it permanently to the science faculty—a vain wish if another name is not forthcoming. Will the readers of "Smad" provide the new room with an appropriate name.
The other room is especially pleasant to look at, as befits the home of the fine arts. The Carnegie collection consists of 2200 prints and photographs and 250 books on art. Here the student whose senses have been dulled by laborious days will find rest and refreshment.
A great variety of good things are here. He will rejoice in the sober loveliness of the Italian primitives, the graceful height of a Gothic cathedral or the balanced perfection the graceful height of a Gothic us can be indifferent?
The 250 books on the History of Art are varied. We hear that the editors of Cappricals have gleaned much from a study of some of the books on the art of advertising. There are books on dress-design. It is pleasant to think that our eyes may be gladdened by dresses with stately and graceful lines. There is a fascinating book on Chinese painting, and a daring one, called "Art Now," which is already very popular. But it is invidious to mention single books among such an abundance of good things. This room should be the happy hunting-ground of every student.
Unfortunately many students cannot now enjoy this room, since it closes at 5 We hope that in the future it will be open at least some nights in every week.
The recent publication of Mr. de la Mare's excellent pamphlet enables us to view the problem of Academic freedom in an atmosphere uncharged with the explosives of violent controversy, and to see more clearly the hypocrisy that claims to support it while enacting repressive legislation.
And in reviewing this question we must first admit that there can be no natural or innate right to freedom of speech, just as there can be no natural or absolute right to private property or to anything else. The whole matter is one of expediency. The time is undoubtedly coming when these "rights" that block every turn in the present social organisation will recede into the background. In the social arena to-day are opposed two forces, one of which affirms the absolute rights of property, and the other—almost as dogmatic and tolerant though no less inhuman—champions the absolute marks each as a transitory phenomenon that will pass with rights of labour. The prominence of the conception of rights the passing of our economic era.
There is no innate right to Academic freedom, but the cause can be easily defended on grounds of expediency. And the position is very similar to that created by the recent British extension of armaments. For the first few months during which Britian's armaments are extended more rapidly there may be greater relative security, but the further we look into the future the greater the insecurity caused by this move. we see the insidious race started that will not only wipe out the advantage of a relatively greater force but will also increase insecurity through the added temptation to use this carefully extended weapon. So, too, with Dictatorship. If we consider but the day or the month in which we are living. then it is probable that government by a dictator will be more efficient, but if we look to future development then the iron bands of dictatorial repression are seen as a brutal curb.
So our support of Academic freedom will depend on the extent by which we can raise our ideal from the humdrum stability of the moment to the future progress of Society and the development of more just forms of organisation. It depends, too, on whether we can raise our patriotism from a narrow adherence to national interests, to the wider sympathy of world co-operation. The more we believe in the advance of a dynami: Society, the firmer and more vigorous will be our support of Academic freedom.
Change must come, and the more general the understanding of the new philosophy, the less the possibility of violence and the more beneficial the change will be. This is the justification of Academic freedom.
And so you've come. Verve and enthusiasm. The portals of learning—you are through with college—university students now. Varsity? Bricks, not storied stones, no dreaming spires, no dim cathedrals, but efficient if electic brick. Bricks—a noble pile, aloofly sentinelling one crest of this gusty town. Varsity—the higher education, well known but alluring. Great minds—England's proudest heritage were university men. Assert yourself now, individual development, culture. Here are scholars—real men—theirs the heritage of the ages. You, too are men. Go to it!
Wake up, fresher! You start living now. Self-development, chance for original work. Debate the stuff of controversy, tempting reputation for nonconformity. 'Varsity—the quest for truth, eternal, impartial, whithersoever the may . . . truth at 'Varsity—well, there are 26,000 books in the library—truth, it is a relative concept—these books are true, if somewhat bloodless. What is truth said jesting; But fresher, attend:
"The words of the book are not true
If they do not act in you . . ."
There is a credo. Truth? Each age creates its own. Culture? Each age creates its own. Take nothing for granted, freshers. Master your resources. In that only can 'Varsity help you. But the opinions of men are grounded in the past; each philosopher apologises for his own life. Thought, says Bertrand Russell, is a disease, like high blood-pressure. Thought implies breakdown, condemns to Quictism, passivity.
"J. T. Lang was more or less permanently angry with the University because of its bourgeois economists' but he did no damage to it."—Prof. Wood.
"A ring on the finger is worth two in the voice."
Marriages and engagements rained thick and fast during the long Vacation Zenie Henderson and Joey Mountjoy, Edna Purdie and Wiggs, Tim Lambourne and Don Priestley, Zena Jupp and Ken Duff were all among the fallen. The engagements of Enid Cook to Bill Stewart, Marjorie Bell to Phil Webb, Kath McClymont to Harry Bishop were announced. To all "Smad" wishes the best of luck.
Victoria has lost a good friend in Miss Ola Nielsen, who left "to seek her fortune" in England or on the Continent. She hopes to secure a position abroad and remain for some time.
Jack Scholefield, though in distant Timaru, has brought high honours on himself and the College by winning the Bowen Prize for this year.
Those few noble souls who have gazed with disgust on the piebald dirty, drab hangings in front of the Gym stage will be delighted to hear that the Dram. Club has succeeded in procuring some first-class drawcurtains. These have been acquired from the trustees of the Teachers Training College, with the assistance of Miss Irvine-Smith, well known as the producer of many fine shows at the T.T.C. Wellington.
The curtains are surmounted by a beautiful pelmet, incorporating the Training College crest, which was designed and pained and painted by Mr. L. T. Watkins, of Wellington This crest is composed of the lion rampant from the V.U.C. crest, and should the Training College ever be incorporated as a faculty at V.U.C., the crest and colours will be most appropriate.
The Trustees are to be congratulated on finding a suitable home for the curtains.
Reviewing the last copy of the new "Smad" (the McGhie issue), we see the McGhie revue in extenso: McGhie the Big Executive, McGhie the Romantic, McGhie, the Club-consolidator, McGhie the Neck-or-Nothing-Minus Debater (—1051). We hope to read something about V.U.C. in subsequent issues.
In the Cockpit, he vents the wordy homily anticipated from this Flying Scotchman. For A McG., intellectuals are tinder whereon is struck the spark of genius (these matchless intellectuals!), foundations with towers springing in profusion, and ashes whence phoenices arise. Every Club and Movement is seared by the liquid fire of his oratory. The McGhie will surely go down to history as the whip that cracked o'er Salamanca. All we need at the moment, however, is that he descend from the chill air of his Olympus before he gets still colder feet.
The raspberry for the most useful information in the last issue goes to the experienced Mr. Morpeth, who is his innocence gives this sitter for the matrimonial stakes.
"For the benefit of freshers, the Cafeteria is situated near the Women's Common Room."
From "Smad's" Super Service:
"The students sung the same songs."
Yes whatever they say about these freshers, the yangsters sure are great sungsters.
Not academic freedom but literary license was the chief substance of the book review. About the bones of ideas from a well-known thesis, the writer swathes wrapping with all the skill of the reviewer turned undertaker.
The puny child reaches its majority at the end of the first paragraph—a desperate affair of 21 lines—two sentences—221 adjectives—too much!
And what an off-spring! "It is the puny child of cold thought". Readers are agog to see the
A windy, though well-meant, review, consigned (like all of us) to the timely sarcophagus of Oblivion.
(It is hoped to make the above column a regular feature for critical comment on the preceding week's issue. Any items from readers will be welcome.—Ed.)
This book has nothing to do with a local commercial school or the futility of passing exams, but is a volume of short stories of the unconventional type Hemingway is an American consmopolitan with a Latin outlook, and consequently there is no trace of moralisation in his stories. To those unfamiliar with his work, his sustained subjectivity may be a little disconcerting and his staccato style condemned as affectation. A further examination will show, however, that his economy of words is most forcible. The fact that his characters in their utterances confine themselves to single sentences and often repeat themselves, may seem unreal: but there is no denving its significance in driving home the author's point. The slightness, or total back of plot, may be disapproved of on the grounds of obscurity, and in "The Sea Change" the charge would be justifiable, but elsewhere it will have to be conceded that this heightens the effect of realism. This effect is best portrayed in "A Way You'll Never Be"—the revelation of the mind of a shellshock case A vein of sly humour runs through nearly all the stories and in some amounting to subtle irony as exemplified in "The Homage to Switzerland,"—O.A.E.H.
"The stork is a very valuable bird,
Inhabiting all sorts of districts.
Though it doesn't yield plumes
Or sing any tunes.
It helps out with the vital statistics."
Sir,—Steps are at present being taken to obtain a complete series of "Spike," from the first number, with a view to binding and preserving such series as the official record for the Students' Association.
It has been found, however, that certain numbers are missing from the Association's collection, namely:
Efforts are being made to obtain these numbers, and I would be very glad if any of your readers who have such numbers and would be prepared to dispose of them to the Students' Association, or who could assist in obtaining such numbers, would communicate with me by means of the letter-rack at College.
Your assistance in this matter would be greatly appreciated.—
A letter has been received from Mr. K. J. Scott objecting to the principle involved in the policy of the Editor in deleting words as "harmless" as "puppet," which was omitted from the Review of Mr. dela Mare's book, This word appeared before the phrase "politicians and bureaucrats," and was omitted by the Editor. The policy of "Smad" in cases where alteration to an article is being considered is to refer the matter to the author, but on this occasion "time was of the essence," and, as Mr. Scott agrees, the omission of the world did not affect the context.
Last year the frantic efforts of a few individuals, together with the unconscious co-operation of the world's brightest humorists, resulted in a record sale of the 2000 "Cappicades" printed. For the uninitiated. "Cappicade" purports to be a programme associated with the Capping Revue. It is of course, nothing of the sort: the lists of graduates and performers are merely an excuse to have as much fun with everybody on the printed page as Reddy Phillips has on the stage. Excuse the verse, but we are felling lyrical at the prospects for this year's "Cappicade." Bigger, brighter and madder than ever is the motto of the "Cappicade" staff.
But we must have help. All those who can assist in any way with sketch drawings or topical articles are invited to leave their names, with an indication of the direction in which they can assist, in the letter rack, by means of a note addressed to Carl Watson. Cappicaderin-Chief. Otago sold 10,000 Capping Programmes last year. Lend your weight and show them how Victoria does things.
Arising from a letter from the Dramatic Club, the inadequacy of seating accommodation in the gymnasium was considered. The opinion was that the matter should be remedied if finance permitted. Mr. bradshaw pointed out that the continual hiring of chairs meant an up-profitable expenditure of Club money and it was finally decided to ascertain whether extra forms might be obtained from the Training College Hall.
"Here shall the Press the People's right maintain.
Unawed by principle and unbribed by gain.
Here patriot Truth her glorious precepts draw.
Pledged to Religion, Liberty and Law."
("New Poems" is obtainable from the Secretary of the Literary Society at 1/- a copy).
"New Poems," selected by Ian Milner and Denis Glover. The Caxton Club Press. Canterbury College,
It is a greatly heartening thing to know that in New Zealand there are poets whose verse sensitively reflects both the changing scenes in the theatre of our time and the formal currents in the stream of modern poetry. This small volume of verse that the Caxton Club has published is the first attempt to group those New Zealand writers who are uncompromisingly modern in outlook. The book is at once a challenge and a valuable creative venture represented in the anthology are, by The poets represented in the anthology are by name. Jean Alison, Lawrence Baigent. Charles Brasch, Eric Cook, Allen Curnow, A. R. D. Fairburn, Denis Glover, R. A. K. Mason, Ian Milner, and Carl Straubel. Only two or three of them have made their name and been granted grudging recognition by the Pooh-Bahs of culture. Yet anyone who is concerned about the prospects of a creative up-surge in this country must look to them. With but a couple of omissions, possibly on grounds of age, the writers of "New Poems" are the most serious poets now writing in New Zealand.
For these are poets who have shaken free from the paralysing grip of official, bookish "Saturday-supplement" culture. They have broken with the politic literary-column-gossip chit-chat of our minature "cultural" circles: and with the traditional forms, in whose refurbishing the literary folk expend their time and talent. But this is not the break with tradition for blind revolt's sake. Rather it is the realisation that these forms, and the states of mind they express, may continue to exist in the semblance of literature after all life and interest has long ago fled them. As Milner and Glover say in their excellent foreword:
"A predilection for decorative lyricising and emotional embroidery, weakly reminiscent of pre-war Georgian verse, has produced in this country a lifeless growth which, though not necessarily insincere, is in no sense creative."
"The poet," they go on to say, "is the focal-point of awareness in his time, and since we are living in a revolutionary age, some interpretation of its influence is only to be expected. Several of these writers respond more definitely to social stimuli than others. Yet we do not feel they are poetically significant because of their any common interest in social material for itself. what compels our attention is the liberating effect of such material on their verse." That is the key to understanding the poets of this volume. Poets are of the prescient beings; one measures the major issues for their own and immediately successive generations in terms of their sensitive responses. And, emotionally rooted not in fantasy but in life, all these poets agree in seeing the social problem as the pivotal problem, the social locality as the ultimate reality. From their sensitiveness to veering social issues, their implied faith in a more creative way of living derives the renowned poetic vigour and pliancy of these poets.
To select only two examples, from the verse of R. A. K. Mason, who extracts the utmost dramatic power from the rhyme, emphasis and regularity of the classical forms, and from the quick and flexible free verse of Ian Milner. In the last stanza of "Youth at the Dance" Mason describes the revolutionary legions of the rising, oppressed multitudes:
"Their faces are more scarred Than a miner's boot and rough As a quarry-face and as hard As a hammer-head, and good tarred Canvas is not more tough."
And from Milner's impassioned "To the Living":
"Stand together now
And let our anger—measure of our love—
Explode like shrapnel through the stagnant air,
Nerve our fibres
In the acrid savour of renewal,
And hearts recharged with passion,
Let our eyes drink
Here with all men
The clear and equal sunlight of the world."
Conscientious students will by this time have learnt from the best text-books that Economics is a science. It is essential that, to grasp this idea clearly, as its assists in the cramping of one's ideas on the subject into the circumscribed limits. The economist is very like the man seated beneath the banyan tree studying a book on longevity while a hungry tiger considers him with a pleased look in his eye. Economics consists of erudite commonplaces on a system rapidly becoming effete. It is not within its scope to contemplate any of the philosophical or political developments which every moment threaten to engulf it.
The scientific method of the economist is peculiar to himself. It should be called the "Economic Method." Rather than gather the facts from which to ascertain the truth, he asserts the truth (obtained from some other course) and sets about collecting such facts as will support it. If, as is sometimes the case, he changes his mind, this is due to Progress, which is also responsible when he changes his mind back again.
That a course in economics provides a valuable training in versatility is demonstrated clearly in the diversity of opinion it breeds on any question of importance. As a certain wise man has said, "If all the economists in the world were placed end-to-end they would never reach a conclusion.
I offer a Parliamentary apology if I have suggested that a course in Economics is of very little value.
The scientist does not sit down to write a thesis on decaying fish or on the contents of garbage-tins, yet the psychologist dotes on the lunatic and his imbecilities. And this prying into putrescent humanity is hidden in a maze of technicalities, complexes, rationalisations and subnormal manifestations, just as the secret opium-smoker hides himself well away from the world before indulging his craving. The psychologist is the first to point out that the constant contact of a teacher with infant minds tends to make his own mind childish. How then does he escape from his own contact with the insane?
Your philosopher is a morbid introspective fellow destroying our hearty humanity and good-fellow-ship. Remember the wall of Johnson's friend, who "tried to be a philosopher but cheerfulness would keep on coming in."
Condemning civilisation as a mass of repressions, he craves to return to the natural or bestial state. He says I have sex and libido. Well, what of it; I do not ask whether he has corns on his right toe. He criticises the conventions in the present expressions of sex and favours fuller expression. On the same grounds, I suppose, I should murder a man I feel angry with, because it is the natural and primitive thing to do.
Not only would they destroy the beauty of our emotional life, but even thought they destroy. In the olden days one refuted another's argument with logic and reason. Today your long-haired and shaggy psychologist, when outwitted, derides the arguments of his adversary as defence—mechanisms or rationalisations.
The psychologist forms part of the tyranny of modern life. The pacifist won't let us fight, the economic system wont' work the Government won't let us be seditious, and the psychologist own't let us behave decently.
"If and enemy smite thee on the right cheek, let thy subsequent actions be governed largely by his size."
* * *
"Every man should know himself, but in doing so he is apt to waste a lot of time that might be spent on making more agreeable acquaintances."
* * *
Bob Hall is reliably reported to have said that the present Swimming Club Committee is one of the finest bodies of administrators he has met.
When everybody is talking fight, the immediate prospect is probably one of peace. But accidents will happen; and war is the king of accident that seems to happen most surely when it is most prepared against. Current preparations are furnishing all the materials required for a first-class accident. The time is very appropriate, therefore, for an effort to be made towards putting an end to the dirty sport of smashing drilling, stabbing, poisoning, suffocating, and blowing to bits the soul-cases of fellow-beings who have committed no greater crime then to be born somewhere else; and the anti-war enthusiasm recently generated in this College decrees the heartiest commendation for its desire to have the brutal activity struck out of humanity's list of social engagements.
The movement is undoubtedly whole-souled, and is no fount single-hearted as well. Some of its impulse seems, however, on a superficial view, to come from worshippers of that apotheosis of
No serious objection can be taken to the movement on the ground that war may not break out before the period of the annual examinations. It might break out after, which would be worse. Nor can any serious objection be based on the fact that the movement, so far as it is audible to the V.U.C. student, is cloistered in a remote University College. Even if it were so restricted (which is not the case), a start must be made somewhere and somehow; and if one University student (as at Serajevo) could star a European war, there is no telling what two or three possessed of an equivalent seal could not set off in an opposite direction. Justifications exist in plenty. Some are generous, such as the desire to see mankind freed of a cruel, inhuman burden. Others, such as the objection to dying like a dog in the gutter or a student in the middle of a bursary), are not at all reprehensible for being purely personal. But the only justification that can hope to be effective is the existence of a strong anti-war sentiment among a large number of people. In few reforms is mass feeling of such prime importance. An anti-war movement hamstrings itself if it allows any character to be affixed to it other or beyond that of a simple determination to abolish war. If it makes a stand on the postulate that war cannot be abolished except by fundamentally altering the social system, then it loses its clear-cut appeal to the host of Dumdrudges who are ready to pull their weight for the sake of saving their own skins but have no social vision beyond: and it may develop into an "ism" of some sort or another masquerading under a single item of its programme. To be sure, this would not necessarily condemn the movement on any ground other this would not necessarily condemn the movement on any grounds other than that of effectiveness under existing conditions; but effectiveness under existing conditions is the whole point.
An inclination to get down to fundamentals is not fault in the student mind. The abolition of war is however, a concern of many types of mind, among which
11.59 p.m. Monday— Editors Join Strike
The holiday tour of the Cricket Club to Palmerston, Wanganui, Hawera and Marton was noteworthy in that, for the first time in the history of this tour, unatcurs and professionals fact on an equal footing. This highly desirable state of affairs was foreshadowed by the appointment of the Kelburn pro., Paetz, as captain. The team, which was skilfully changed round to suit the state of the wicket in each game, comprised the following:—Partz (captain), Mr. Blandford, Clouston, Edaley, Mr.
The tour diffcully began on Monday, 24th December, at 7 p.m. when the bus, chartered primarily to carry Mr. Blandford and his three trunks his
The team's hotel at Palmerston lost most of its holiday patrons on the evening that Mr. Blandford arrived with his gramophone Even at one o'clock on Christmas morning Schubert's immortal love-song, "The Man On the Flying Trapeze," echoed through the passages of Tucker's. This sweet refrain became the National Anthem of the team, and every twon through which the bus passed was treated to a lengthy rendering—we trust to the edification of the local yokels.
Some sterling performances were registered on the trip. At Palmerston Mr. Blandford signalled for a beer for every four runs he made—though in fairness to the batsman it must be said that four runs represented half an hour's work. Mr. Fay "castled" the opposition hip and thigh at Wanganui where Edgley was hooted for bodyline, and a remark was even overheard questioning the validity of his parentage. At Hawera, Mr. Willis, with the first three Taranaki wickets and the bat-trick, and Clouston, who had donned the pads and gloves, gave our regular keeper a vivid portrayal of his performances, both vocal and acrobatic. By the time we reached Marton, Mr. Larkin appeared to be entirely muscle-bound, and Edgley, who had awakened us at daybreak of
All things considered, Mr. Wild and Mr. Willis probably recorded the outstanding achievement on the social side on New Year's Eve, when, aided by several pints of Warm-me-tum, they painted crimson the walls of an eminently respectable Wanganui household and blotted the escutcheon of a well-known Wellington family. Mr. Blandford lacked no admirer where'er he went, and the antics of Clouston and Stace. Mr. Fay's harlequin cap caught the ladies' attention, his Irish stories caught everyone's attention, and he himself nearly caught his death of cold in his mighty excursions "down the sink." Wicks, the Manager, was always bandy at three o'clock in the morning to put some heavy-headed revefler safely to bed and give the team its morning dose of "Epsoms" and also its nightcap.
What about the cricket, you ask? Well, we had one loss, two draws, and one game (fortunately) was washed out by rain. Our record was a mixture of good and bad, and we leave it to our readers to say just how good and just how bad. By the way, next Christmas the Team must have more support from 'Varsity men—we had to rope in three outsiders this year.
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