Graduation

In Which the Degree of Magister Artium is Conferred Upon the Author

The reader is no doubt anxious to hear about the recent goings-on within the Royal Burgh of St Andrews, that ‘auld grey toon’, relating and pertaining to the awarding of a degree to yours truly in recompense for four arduous years of undergraduate study, and so I bring it upon myself to relate a chronicle of said events.

The Saturday preceding graduation week, I was sitting enjoying a cup of tea with young Miss Dempsey in the Common Room of Canmore on the Scores when I gazed out the window and chanced upon my own dear uncle, Col. Matthew Cusack himself, gazing back at me with surprise. I rushed outside to greet him and invited him in to Canmore to introduce him to Clare before continuing back outside to seek the remainder of my visiting relatives due to arrive. We found them all (bar my brother Airman Matthew Cusack, who would arrive a few days later) around the corner up Murray Park, and it was then that I was first introduced to my dear little nephew Finn, merely a few weeks after his happy arrival. My mother, father, sister, brother-in-law, uncle, aunt, and second uncle all accompanied the little one, whom I have placed under the protection of St. Marcellinus. We made our way to the surprisingly commodious house on the Scores which we rented for the duration of the week and settled down in our temporary abode.

On Monday afternoon we held a rather casual little affair of celebration, a splendid barbecue in the garden of our house with the family and just a few friends (for many of the Brits were not yet back in town for graduation): the outspoken “Ishmael”, young Miss Dempsey, “Mrs.” Brennan, Señor Adrian Moore, Pamela, and Adrian’s absolutely legendary father Mr. Brian Moore. Towards the end of the evening we gathered to watch the first installment of ‘The War of the World‘, the new documentary series by Niall Ferguson on Channel 4.

Tuesday everyone went down to Edinburgh to meet my brother at the airport and then tour the city. I remained in St Andrews, but the evening brought us up to Perthshire for an absolutely superlative dinner laid on at a country house hotel by Mr. Moore. I and my parents were accompanied by Abigail and her mother, father, and grandmother, Pam along with her brother and Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, Adrian’s sister and her beau, Adrian’s godparents, and of course the host himself, Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore is in the habit of taking extra care of his son’s most loyal compadres, and has taken us, poor wretched students, out on the town on a number of occasions. It was very fitting, therefore, that the last meal he provided for us during our university years should be the best, and in such splendid surroundings. Each course was savoured, and we were all very well looked after.

Now, at St Andrews there are a number of graduation ceremonies on successive dates, the graduands divided amongst the ceremonies by the degree which they to obtain. Tuesday afternoon beheld one graduation, and then two each were held on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday; one in the morning and one in the morning. Earlier in each of the graduation days there is a short thanksgiving service in St. Salvator’s Chapel for the graduation of the day.

Despite the fact that I was graduating on Thursday, we decided to attend the Thanksgiving service on Wednesday morning instead of the following day because the Cardinal Archbishop of St Andrews was giving the brief address, whereas a female ‘Honorary Lay Chaplain’ was taking the address on my day. I am happy to say that His Eminence’s address was suitably Catholic rather than the washed-down ecumenical sort of sermon many would expect prelates to deliver on such occasions, and Canon Halloran said a very good collect I suppose he composed for the occasion. After the service ended and everyone was dawdling about in the cloister, I went over and had a brief chat with Professor Haldane and His Eminence, whom I hadn’t seen since February. (Ardent readers of Scottish Field will recall seeing a photo of the Cardinal Archbishop accompanied by our friend Lt. Col. Bogle, yours truly, and Miss Abigail Hesser in that periodical’s social coverage of the Knights of Malta Ball a few months ago). I told the Cardinal what a pleasant four years I have enjoyed in his diocese, and my appreciation of Canon Halloran, and thanked him yet again for allowing us the indult Mass at St. Andrew’s Church in Ravelston. His Eminence then introduced me to the famous Sir Tom Farmer who was quite rightly receiving a honorary degree from our university later in the day. The reknowned Scottish philanthropist has quite an unassuming dignity about him. Prof. Haldane noted that he recently sent a copy of the Mitre on to Count Quentin de la Bedoyere, the columnist for the Catholic Herald.

Afterwards up to Glamis Castle in Angus, a beautiful retreat and the ancestral home of the Earls of Strathmore and Kinghorne. Very happy to see it remains in the Bowes-Lyons family. I took in the general feel of the place and collected a few ideas for when I build my own castle on the Hudson. Fine, sturdy building. Strong winds prevented us from exploring the grounds, but at least it meant the Bowes-Lyon banner was snapping proudly from the top of the castle; a reassuring sight.

Then Thursday, graduation day itself. What madness! I spent ages trying to tie my white marcella bow tie to no avail. Silk bow ties are relatively easy to tie, but when it comes to white tie, marcella just looks so much better than silk. Eventually, I went down the Scores and ran into Tom d’Ardenne who wasn’t any help either. Went to Younger Hall to pick up my ticket and ran into a random academic who managed to accomplish the task as best as possible.

Two o’clock in the afternoon and we graduands all took our seats in the Younger Hall. I was seated next to Victoria Cottrell, rather appropriately since we shared a tutorial with Dr. Chandrika Kaul in the first term of our first year four years ago. Our graduation exercises went rather superbly. They were not the overblown, hyperbolic rituals common to the younger institutions at home in the New World but were instead gentle, refined, understated, and suitably traditional. They began with the academic procession as all the myriad faculty, officers, and clerks of the university marched in to the Gaudeamus Igitur.

Then, slowly moving down the aisle, the Principal and Vice-Chancellor, Dr. Brian Lang in his purple gown, followed by our Chancellor, the Rt. Hon. Sir Menzies Campbell QC MP in his black brocaded silk gown trimmed with gold lace.

And then came the liveried janitors in their black formal uniforms with red piping, carrying the finest collection of medieval maces in all the world: the Faculty of Arts Mace, 1418, the Divinity (originally Canon Law) Mace, 1457, and the St. Salvator’s College Mace, 1461, along the three modern maces of St Andrews, the School of Medicine Mace (1949), the ugly University Mace (1958), and the Rector’s Mace (2003).

Then, everyone in their proper place, the Principal of St. Mary’s College said the opening prayer:

After a welcoming address by the Principal and Vice-Chancellor, the Chancellor then conferred the degrees upon the graduands by pronouncing “Te ad gradum Magistri Artium promoveo, cuius rei in symbolum super te hoc birretum impono” while capping the first graduate with the Graduation Cap (traditionally made from John Knox’s breeches). After that, the subsequent graduates are capped with the addendum “et super te” (“and upon you”).

At the appointed moment, I mounted the stage and knelt before the Chancellor who then capped me on the head saying “et super te“. The Bedellus, Jim Douglas, then slipped the M.A. hood over my head. I then rose, bowed to the Chancellor, and exited stage right to receive my diploma and return to my seat a Master of the Arts.

After the conferral of degrees there was a musical interlude consisting of a rather dull song followed by the traditional German tune ‘The Happy Wanderer’ (you know it, the one that goes “Val-deri,Val-dera, Val-deri, Val-dera-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha”), which didn’t seem entirely befitting the dignity of the occasion but was nonetheless rather enjoyable. Then, the honorary degrees, to David Corner, a retiring Deputy Principal of the University, Professor Theodor Hänsch, Nobel physician of the Max-Planck Institute of Quantum Optics in Garching, and Charles Sifford, a rather charming old black golfer from the States.

Each honorary degree was accompanied by an address citing the worthiness of the candidates, and after the degrees honoris causa were conferred by the Chancellor, Professor Ronald Piper, one of the Vice-Principals of the University gave the Graduation Address. Following Prof. Piper’s address, Fr. Jonathan of All Saints, the very high Scottish Episcopalian church in St Andrews, gave the Benediction:

Then the graduation was completed, and we new graduates joined the academic processions as befitting our new degress and exited the hall.

As we processed out from the Younger Hall towards the Quad, George Irwin caught up with me. He had graduated in the same ceremony but was shoving off instead of going to the garden party so we said our goodbyes briefly, but not curtly, with an expectation to keep in touch. George is a good man, solid as a rock and I will miss him, though I look forward very much to seeing him in the future.

My cohorts from my year-long special subject, with our tutor Dr. Nott.

Afterwards there were a few photos in the Quad and then the Garden Party on Lower College Lawn. Caught up with my favourite professors: Stephen Tyre, Dr. Bradley, and Dr. Nott. Good times and lots of good chat despite the cheap “sparkling wine”. I had a much-enjoyed valedictory dinner with the family in the restaurant of the Russell Hotel before heading off with my brother and sister to the Westport for a few drinks with Jon and Abby and various confederates. Alex Findlay was in the bar, as well as Cara Hoofe, Alexandra Jennings, my indespensible secretary (retired), Edwina Donellan, Lulu, and others. Also ran into Harry Douglas-Hamilton, who graduated last year, there and had a short chat with him. Drinks until not very late at all really, and then home to bed.

Friday was my last night in St Andrews. It began at six o’clock in St. Salvator’s Quad where I and others received Honorary Life Membership of the University of St Andrews Students Association ‘for contributions to the student body of the university’. A small token gesture of course, but it’s nice to know that one’s work, however meagre, is appreciated. Chatted with Stuart Paterson, a fellow honoree, at the ceremony, about his upcoming year in the States.

Walking to the Graduation Ball with “Ishmael”.

Col. Cusack inspects the pipers.

Seven o’clock and the ceremony of beating the retreat in St. Salvator’s Quad by the City of St Andrews Pipes and Drums before the Graduation Ball on Lower College Lawn. A cacaphony of ballgoers assembled to watch the ceremony, and the Rev. Dr. Ian Bradley even stopped by with his daughter and his lovely pet dog. The ball began at 7:30, but a gaggle of Catholics repaired to Canmore for a drink or two before we were forced to suffer from the cash bar at the Ball.

Myself, Pamela, Adrian, Clare, and “Ishmael”

The Ball itself was good, but not great. We got in a few good reels, including the especially thrilling and exhausting Cumberland Square 8, but the ceilidh band packed up scandalously early (forty minutes before scheduled!) and was replaced with utterly reprehensible modern dance music (needless to say, we danced no longer!). It was brilliant to see so many familiar faces, including a great many I hadn’t seen properly in years. At the same time, a bit saddening that the majority of these good acquaintances I’ll never see again, while I’m certain I will see my good friends again in the not too distant future.

How can one evaluate or approximate four years at St Andrews? What possible yardstick could one dredge from the depths of time and knowledge to relate the experience? It would be impossible. I was not sad to leave; I knew my time was up and furthermore I yearned to return to the home for which I have such an undying love. At any rate, walking back from the Graduation Ball I happened to lose my black bowtie which had lain unfastened around my neck for the last hour or two of the evening, so I like to think I’ve left something there. And perhaps I may have left a little more. Before I returned home I made sure to deposit an archive of Mitres in the Special Collections of the University Library.

I shall miss the place. The slow, windswept walks along the strands of sand, solving crosswords in the midst of torturous lectures, taking notes in the Schools, singing hymns and snickering at female preachers in Chapel, tweed and ties and home-brewed beer, elaborate balls and formal dinners, and Sunday Pier Walks, torchlit processions and the Northern Lights, the RAF jets tearing through the skies, the ancient stones on which ancient men of learning tread, and thought, and prayed, and plotted, and died, and spires, towers, castles, ruins, streets, and wynds, and books, and coffees, pints, shots, and wee nips, and dawnlight dips on May Morning while madrigals are sung and bonfires are lit, and forfeits in the Mess, and the shuffling beads of midday rosaries, and of course the red gown I wear no more. There is much to be remembered.

Instagram: @andcusack

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