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The Spike: or, Victoria University College Review, October 1918

The Presentation Ceremony—Friday, June 21st

The Presentation Ceremony—Friday, June 21st

To eulogise the Capping Ceremony would be to sink to the level of political advertisement. Someone complained a couple of years ago that students were no longer "capped," but were "presented." We can carry this even step further. They are no longer "presented," they are "exhibited." The whole performance suffered from a dignified lack of dignity. Sir James Allen was handicapped by not having a bouquet. He seemed ill-at-ease, and by his demeanour appeared several times to be about to apologise for his presence, as Mr. Watson had done previously during the evening for the absence of Sir Francis Bell—an apology that was greeted with loud applause by a number of law students who were doubtless labouring under the false impression that he had written a text-book. We missed the old familiar faces, the people whom we can always depend upon to be humorous without any apparent effort on their part. We missed them both on the platform and in the body of the hall. Still we are not complaining from the point of view of the audience (for it is remarkable with what great fortitude people will bear a performance when the admission is free) but from the point given of the students who are supposed to be "capped." Undoubtedly, they will remember the ceremony all their lives, but there is no reason why we should not strive that the remembrance should be a pleasant one. We must, of course, object to strict officialdom. This would be apparent at any time. But we would also like to say that to make the presentation resemble Madame Tussaud's wax-works is venturing perilously near the other extreme.

Well, so much for the badly handled exhibits. We now come to the noise. To the men we would like to point out that volume in music does not always compensate for lack of tune. We level these charges against those who, having good voices, are led away by the idea that provided they get off the mark well, they can do themselves page 48 ample justice and get ahead of the crowd. And, unfortunately, they generally succeed. As for the women, modesty or nervousness prevented them from fulfilling adequately their part in the songs. That the Glee Club is largely composed of women members seems to be no reason why they should be so sadly silent when time and occasion demand sound. As to the capping songs themselves, we could only boast of one new one, "Willy-Nilly—and Electioneering Ballade" to the tune of "Tit-Willow"—a song that was sung very well by the majority of students, probably because it was short. There is the rub. Until we appreciate the fact that unless we shorten the most of the songs, we can never hope to overcome the tired feeling that showed up in most of the efforts—until then, the lack of feeling, lack of harmony, lack of endurance, lack of everything, will manifest itself on the "night of nights."

Now as to the inexcusable occurrences. Mr. Clement Watson, Chairman of the College Council, rose to speak first. The Haeremai Club extended to him the welcome that its name implies, but the members, evidently impressed by the noise they made, carried on their jollification throughout his speech—an achievement which gave them great satisfaction. Several press-reporters who were sitting very near the stage caught snatches of what he had to say. We think that there are times when the ideals of humour can be carried into the realms of bad taste. This was one of them. When the speaker treats the subject of the sacrifices of old students ad graduates through whose industry the University has come to bear the traditions that it does, then we think it is time to listen with respect. Mr. Watson showed that the war had greatly reduced the number of men students, there being in 1914, 243 students as against 166 in 1918. In the same period the number of women students have increased from 134 to 198. He then went on to discuss the calamity of the war, but, as we have mentioned before, the men students were in no mood for tragedy. He concluded, after an effort to make himself heard, by congratulating the graduates on their well-earned success.

The arrival of Hon. T. M. Wilford as the nest speaker was made the occasion of a burst of applause. He, however, throughout his speech was quite to any of the witticisms hurled at him from the proleteriat. He stated that he had no particular theme, and that he was going to pick it up from those around him. Who the ferocious intruder was we do not know—but the subject was war. Whether, with his usual good sense, Mr. Wilford refrained from speaking of the University and its doings because he knew little about the subject, or whether it was that he knew too much, is hard to say, but it is equally hard to assign any reason why he should have chosen that evening to give a little war lecturette. The subject was singularly inappropriate. To do him justice, however, what he had to say was unusual and, with the exception of the humour, was listened to with great respect. After congratulating the graduates he sat down amidst very hearty applause.

Sir James Allen, Minister for Defence, wisely refused to face such a warlike audience, and, on calling for cheers for the graduates, which were given lustily, retired unobtrusively.

Mr. T. V. Waters wielded the baton successfully throughout the evening, and his untirely efforts in training the students were fully appreciated. Our thanks are also due to Miss E. Dorrington for acting as pianiste.

The proceedings closed with the singing of the time-honoured "Final-Chorus" and the "National Anthem."

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