The Spike: or, Victoria University College Review, June 1922
A Vision of Judgment
A Vision of Judgment.
"Knowest thou not this of old time, since man was placed upon earth, that the triumphing of the wicked is short, and the joy of the godless but for a moment?—God layeth up his iniquity for his children."
—Book of Job.
As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place Where was a Den, and I laid me down in that place to sleep; and as I slept I dreamed a Dream. And the dream I dreamed was this: There was once a bright callow aspiring youth; and he was smitten with a feverish desire for that Higher Education which is so plentifully and cheaply dispensed in this (glorious young land of Brotherhood and Freedom. And being a youth with the beginnings of wisdom within him, he decided he would devote his studentlife to the service of V.U.C., that gracious mistress, and that he would drink from the cup of Pallas within her sacred halls. He did not choose Otago, because he had a horror of Presbyterians; neither did he choose Canterbury because there, he was told (by someone who preferred his name to be kept silent) the girls are rather fast; nor Auckland because that is the home of ribaldry; but he chose V.U.C. because there all the girls are divinely beautiful and all the men are frank and fearless; also at V.U.C. abide James Brook and Mrs. Brook, and one George, a fellow of infinite jest and merriment. He prepared for his prospective career with the most painstaking and devoted care. He learned off the degrees of all the profs, in the Calendar; also by the kindness of a rising young policeman of his acquaintance he was enabled to gaze long hours at their presentments in the Rogues' Gallery—John Brown was there, his rugged features framed in classic gold; T. A. Hunter was there, in the place of honour due to the first of philosophic anarchists, chief of revolutionaries, his cheerful dial the very apotheosis of the double life; Mackenzie was there, who in the good old days at St. Andrew's led the wild student body in so many celebrated breaches of the peace; Murphy was there with his shillelagh; Adamson and Garrow were there; the two Wilsons—Edwin J. Boyd and F. P., the same whose smile has strewn his path with so many broken hearts; Robertson, with a neatly plotted curve showing the truly remarkable progress of his soul to date; Sommerville, who pinned down the little algebriac trochoids and so narrowly escaped hanging; all these were there and many more. Some'he remembered whose faces he did not see; these he concluded had not so far been very deep in crime, or at least had eluded the clutches of the police, e.g., "Wiren, Monro, and Neale. He also inspected a very choice and comprehensive collection of fingerprints; and managed to obtain a few good duplicates for purposes of blackmail. After this he felt he could be pretty sure of identifying most of the profs, he should meet, and also of getting terms with a minimum of trouble. He cheerfully planked down three shillings and sixpence for the "Old Clay Patch" and read up all the College classics to imbue himself with the right spirit; and all the old "Spikes" that he could collect, he waded through also, and determined that 'he too would in the Lord's good time contribute to that monument of young and bril liant genius. He attended many of Sir R. Stout's lectures at the Unitarian Church and elsewhere, and resolved never, never to go near strong drink nor to touch the baneful cigarette, which has ruined so many young and promising lives. He interviewed the dashing young secretary of the Haeremai Club and learnt that the whole duty of man was to sit up late at night and howl discordant choruses in the Gym., and that the one necessary combination of food to build up brain and muscle was cigarettes and cold pie.
After these preliminaries he felt he might safely qualify for admission to the haven of his desires; but he had still to go through the worst ordeal of all; it had to be ascertained by the Highest Authories whether he was a fit person to be allowed (on probation) admittance; whether he could obtain a clean mental and moral bill of health, or whether he was in any way tainted—horrible suspicion! —with the insidious germs of atheism, or Sunday tennis, or Xtravaganzitis, or—oh, hideous!—Communism!!!—or with independent thought in any particular. Had he ever visited the C— Hall?—had he ever listened to Peter Fraser orating from the soapbox?—had he ever read the writings of Harry Holland?—had he ever corrupted the youth or the returned soldiers of his native village with the vileness of language such as 'Struth! or 'Sblood! or Gee Whiz?—had he ever been convicted of blasphemous libel?—In answer to all these questions he was able to proffer a whole bouquet of white flowers from 1 he garden of his blameless life; he hated revolutionary doctrine and every other abomination with the firm unbending hatred of the Minister of Education himself. He took several different Oaths of Allegiance, each more drastic than the last; and solemnly swore that if ever it came to a choice between the service of his Parr on earth and his Father in heaven he Mould unhesitatingly plunge on Parr. He passed an examination in the meaning of Loyalty and Patriotism and the structure of the Union Jack; he wrote a paper on the elements of musical form as exemplified in the National Anthem; he gave a practical demonstration in the presence of seventeen high officials of his proficiency in saluting the Flag with the right hand, and the left, and both hands together. He sang "God Save the King" into a gramophone for the personal approval of the Hon. the Minister of Education. He produced his birth certificate, his baptism certificate, his Navy League registration form, and certificates of piety from Bishop Liston and Dr. Gibb; he gave proofs that so far as he knew he was British in blood and bone to the marrow and the 'last corpuscle. He kissed the Bible and swore he would never attend the meetings of the Debating Society, nor the Heretics' Club, nor the Christian Union, that black trap for the unwary; that he would furnish verbatim reports of his profs.' elocutionary indiscretions to the myrmidons of the Law. (Luckily he was not going to be a teacher, so he escaped the worst ordeals of all.) He did all these things so well that the Examining Body were rather disconcerted; they had never come across so blameless a candidate before; they felt sure his innocent face and bright unstudied ways would uplift the moral tone of the College immensely; in fact he might give it quite an ethical outlook on life. The Council were particularly pleased; for, said they, a few more youths of this stamp in the place will work such a change in Bill Massey's heart that he will shower grants and subsidies of every kind on us.
At length came the final test—he was to call on the Minister of Education in his Private Office, the Holy of Holies, there to answer a few final searching questions and receive from the Master's own hands the coveted Diploma (First Class) of Fitness for Higher Education. He was received at the door by a battery of obsequious assistant undersecretaries who passed him on and on till he reached the highest secretary of all. The appearance even of this magnate was such as to appal the most innocent heart, but our hero, strong in the consciousness of his exceptionally holy past, did not blench. Not till he stood on the thickpiled luxurious Persian carpet outside the Door did he show any signs of agitation, but then his knees began to knock together and his heart to flutter most lamentably. Two hours he remained thus, till, at the end, just as he was sinking to the ground in utter exhaustion, the Door opened, a radiance shone forth, a sudden Glory, and he fell on his face in adoration. The rushing of many waters sounded in his ears, and a beatific emotion welled up in his breast. Through the tumultuous agitation of his feelings, he heard that Voice, stern but kindly—"Rise, follow me!"—He did so, and found himself in a room the simple elegance of which fairly staggered him, face to face with the Presence, the Great Man Himself. "Be seated," said the G. M.—"Collect yourself.—While doing so he inspected the tasteful furnishings of the room: the carpet was bordered with a chaste design of Union Jacks intertwined with the family crest of the P—s, on the wall was a giant silken Union Jack, presented by the Navy League in grateful recognition of the G. M's defence of the Faith, underneath it a simple price Dieu; above the marble mantlepiece was emblazoned the immortal lines of the National Anthem (three verses, music in tonic solfa). A lifesize autograph portrait of William Ferguson Massey was placed where the light could fall on it most effectively; a 'bust of the G. M. himself, handcarved in solid gold, stood on'a symmetrical marble pedestal. There was also a picture of Horatio Bottomley in the dock. "He was unfortunate," said the G. M., "but he was a Patriot"—and he dropped a tear. Our hero, feeling that in the presence of such deep emotion sympathy was perhaps advisable, also dropped one. "I can forgive a Patriot a lot," said the G. M.—"I am one myself," he added with simple dignity. On the opposite wall to the Union Jack hung an allegorical design of St. George P— advancing to do battle with the loathly Dragon of Communism, which was led forth from the Sals man can sink of iniquity where it wallowed by the faithful Brook, pushed behind by George. This seemed to give the G. M. great satisfaction, for he repeatedly turned to look at it with a most gratified expression; and well he might, for the idea was his own. He was sitting now at the desk checking off the records of two malefactors, students, the flight of whose awful crimes he had been lucky enough to check in blackest midcareer; they were to be hanged next morning. At his elbow was a list of suspected profs, who as yet worked their evil will unmindful of the Wrath to come.
At last the interview was over. He had received his Diploma, personally signed and blotted by the G. M.—he was backing to the door—he was outside—he felt an almost intolerable desire to burst into hysteric tears—a wild current of joy too great to be borne by mortal student surged all through his being—the Minister of Education had patted him on the head!—he swooned away.
When he came to he found himself on the pavement—still grasping tight his precious Diploma. He rose with some pain, to his feet and set off unsteadily to V.U.C. Once inside those portals a sort of madness came over him—he had attained the summit of his hopes! He filled up all the forms the charming girl in the Registrar's office pressed upon him; he had them signed by his faculty, objects of so much veneration.—At last! he thought, now at long last he was a genuine student! At last he could plunge into the Library, that studious retreat, and bury himself in the lore of all ages! He hastened upstairs, he threw himself within those crystal doors; he clutched to his beating bosom books! books! books! A quiet fateful voice broke upon his ear, measured, suavely courteous, monstrous, resistless, instinct with calamity; the old, old question in the immemorial tones—"Sir, have you produced your library card?—And another thing—you are not allowed to look at the books."
Ah! till this he had held up, he had been strong; nothing could daunt him; examinations, emonstrations, interrogations, inquisitions—he had survived them all; but now, now at the very peak of ambition, this—This! He had a vision of the Professorial Board, secret inquiries, public inquiries, Supreme Court actions, a gigantic correspondence in the papers between the Minister of Education and the Chairman of the Board; he saw the farmers of Carterton and Kaiwarra and every other educational authority in the country rising in frenzy to demand his instant expulsion and execution; cartoons in "Truth," spicy pars, in the "Free Lance," Harcus Plimmer on the warpath, leaders in the "Dominion"!—horror piled upon horror! A lifetime of agony flashed upon him in that one brief sickening instant. A moment he held up his head and fought for breath, then the waves of despair closed over him. He gave a ghastly shudder from head to foot. Something seemed to break within his brain—shriek after shriek burst from his insane lips. He rushed from the room. Up, up he climbed!—to the topmost floor, the heights, the dizziest summit of the roof of the latest new wing; and thence, shaking his fist at the Universe, menacing him with a million malevolent eyes, the vast implacable inane, with a last inarticulate cry of rage and despair he leapt from the battlements and was dashed to pieces on the gravel below.
—R. I. P.