The Affair at the Saint Andrew's Society

THE AFFAIR AT THE SAINT ANDREW'S SOCIETY I. N . DUBIN* As I eagerly awaited my first attendance at the St. Andrew's Society, I could almost hear the wild skirling of the bagpipes and see in my mind's eye the brilliant medley of the variegated colors of the tartans—from the subdued black, green and blue of the Black Watch, the bright yellow of the MacLeods, to the striking reds of the Stewarts and the Camerons. But as Guillaume was presenting his paper on the day of the actual event, little did I expect to hear that crashing explosion, louder than a score of pipers, or to watch with horror the blood gushing from Ralph Landes M'Connachie, staining his uniform and blending gruesomely with the colors of his tartan. Some months before, Guillaume Osler and I had created a small sensation with the publication of a paper entitled, "The Medicinal Virtues of the Haggis" [I]. Requests for reprints poured in from all over the world, mostly from persons with names like MacMillan, MacKay, MacTavish, MacKenzie, etc. For centuries loyal Scots had extolled the virtues of the haggis, but taking care all the time to drown it in usquebaugh in order to make it more edible. Now at last every faithful Scot could proudly point to a new virtue of this famous pudding, dubbed by Robert Burns "great chieftain o' the puddin' race." So it was that Guillaume and I were invited to read our paper at a meeting of that prestigious Society, named after the patron saint of Scotland, St. Andrew. "Bill," I asked (it was easier to call him by his English name), "What are we going to wear? Do you have any Scottish blood in you?" "As a matter of fact, I do," he smiled. "When Bonnie Prince Charlie fled Scotland after the disastrous Battle of Culloden he made it safely to France. There he was quite popular and he had an amour with a French lady who turned out to be one of my ancestors. So, dear laddie, I'm *Professor of Pathology, Medical College of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19129.© 1980 by The University of Chicago. 0031-5982/80/2302-0132$01.00 Perspectives in Biology andMedicine ¦ Winter 1980 \ 273 entitled to wear the tartan of the Royal Stewart. But what about you, Dubie; are there any MacDubins in your line?" he twitted me. "None that I know of. My ancient ancestors wore long tunics, not unlike the kilt; we were divided into tribes, which were as hell-raising as any clan, and we blew the shofar which made as bloodcurdling a sound as any bagpipe. But this reminds me, I'm studying the bagpipe with Pipe-Major William MacBean of the Canadian Black Watch; surely he'll have some helpful advice." So at my next lesson with the pipe-major I presented my problem. "Dinna fash yersel', laddie," he advised me. "Ye've been studyin' the pipes wi' me for a year or mair, with the intention of joining the Regimental Band when I think ye're guid enough." "Ay, Pipe-Major, Sir," I replied eagerly. "Well, laddie, I've a pleasant surprise for ye. I think ye've reached the mark, for ye're now an unco' guid piper, and today I'm enrolling ye in the Regimental Band of the Canadian Black Watch. So now ye may wear the tartan of our Regiment. And wear it proudly, mine ye," he admonished me sternly. "The Regiment is 200 years old and we have fought on all continents; we were at Ticonderoga, India, Egypt, Waterloo, Crimea, and countless other battlegrounds." "Ay, Sir, I'm proud to be in the same regiment that commissioned the Duke of Wellington." So Bill and I arrived at the dinner meeting in our respective tartans, blending our colors with those of the others. First there was a little warming up of the shrill chanters. And then came that most exciting event of all, the piping in of the haggis. Four burly Scots brought in a wooden tray borne on their shoulders; resting on the board lay the haggis. As they marched in they were preceded by the finest...