Capping in the Library

Students of an earnest and sympathetic frame of mind will be sorry to learn that in less than twelve months from now the everlasting silence that decorates the Library will be severely and rudely disturbed by the vulgar proceedings of a Capping Ceremony. At a recent foregathering of the College Council it was decided, upon the recommendation of the Professorial Board, to stage the annual presentation of bouquets that occupies chief place in Capping festivities in the Library for one year, as an experiment. It will be very nice, we have no doubt. We hope the books will look their best, that there will be enough Library cards to go round, and that the Vice-chancellor will have no difficulty in manipulating the curtains on the western window at the appropriate moment. The only hitch that is likely to occur in the proceedings is a sudden shortage of seating accommodation. The Chairman of the Council and his gallant company can doubtless all be stowed around the galleries; the M.A.'s are usually well-proportioned, although few in number; but when the Lecturers have snapped up the last couple of rows of seats, and the B.A.'s have covered every available inch of floor space, and the flower-girls have filled the corridor, with an overflow gathering on the back stairs, where will the mere student come in? That is what "The Spike" wants to know. We refrain as far as possible from using the word "undergraduate" which would only be waving a red flag at the bovine occupants of the Professorial Board. But we are here to protect the interests of the undergraduate, and we share at this moment the feelings of an aggrieved Trade Union secretary whose proteges have been maliciously deprived of the right to demand free cigars with every meal. These others are not students—these creatures in cap and gown, looking as ridiculous and top-heavy as any zany ever did in cap and bells. most of them have already turned their backs upon V.U.C.; but they will be seated in places of honour and privilege, and the real student, like the twelve foolish virgins, will find the double doors firmly slammed in his face. There will indeed be wailing and gnashing of teeth. As a matter of fact, the whole performance will probably defeat its own ends and degenerate into an undignified scramble, more resembling a bean-feast then a Capping Ceremony. Procrustes himself could scarcely cram into the Library the requisite number of parents and camp-followers, as well as their reverences the Graduates of the year. He would have to stack them in several tiers, at any rate. We know of at least half-a-dozen students who, in consequence of this decision to go in for a degraded and attenuated form of ceremony next year, have definitely decided to postpone completion of their degrees for another twelve months.

Is it pertinent to ask the reason for this obviously retrograde step? Everyone was mildly startled when the College Council allowed itself to be persuaded into holding the recent Capping Ceremony in the evening. It seems that the members of the Council on their slippery eminence, having ventured one step forward, must now take two steps backward, assisted in no page 30 small measure by the Professorial Board tugging: at their coattails. We know what they will say. We know perfectly well the arguments they must have used to convince one another of the absolute, crying necessity for such a reform. But can they, or any of them, deny that the Victoria College Capping proceedings are the most orderly of any in New Zealand? Can they deny that the last Capping Ceremony was the most orderly of Victoria College ceremonies within recent memory? Let us remind them that every speaker who had anything to say on that occasion was able to say it all: there can be interjections that do not amount to interruptions. And let them remember that certain speakers could not make themselves heard from one end of the Town Hall to the other if the silence of death pervaded the place. Are the rendering of an old song which concerns nothing but an incident in the American Civil War and a Professor's face that more than matched the hue of the Vice-Chancellor's gown to be sufficient reason for this undemocratic departure from custom? The Capping will be performed in camera, that is all, and we shall probably see the spectacle of another meeting of the Council called to decide whether the Press shall be admitted or excluded. We fear that the decision is now beyond recall; but let us fervently hope that one demonstration of this type of ceremony will convince Board and Council alike of the hasty unwisdom of their measure.