THE LAST NEW ZEALANDER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LII, Issue 16020, 11 September 1915, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE LAST NEW ZEALANDER.

ST FRANK MORTON. A gentleman from the Islands—l think he lives at Dunedin when he is at homehas just been explaining to me that some current ideas about New Zealanders are utterly wrong and untenable. He objects to the notion outsiders have that the New Zealander is parochial, for instance. He says that it is perfectly true that at one time the men on that side were fierce local patriots, willing to uphold the girls of Oamaru against all-comers, and to defend the supremacy of the sunsets of Timaru with their latest breath; but the last man of that sort disappeared ten years ago, my friend says. He will have it that the New Zealander of to-day is not sufficiently ardent in his enthusiasms for his native or adopted land. He complains that when the New Zealander gets away now he makes haste to forget New Zealand. "I find," he said, "that New Zealanders settled in Sydney and Melbourne, even those with the most indomitably Scottish accent, call themselves Australians. It is a pity, and it is a sign of the times. It would be a good thing for the Dominion if her people were as cocksure in their praise of her as they used to be."

I wonder if there is anything in that contention. It is certain that when God's own people get out of their proper paradise they kick their heels up very joyously and often stay away a long time. I met one such in Sydney to-day. He said : " Isn't it great to be living in a place like this!" Exultantly he said it, and it struck me as very sad, for he comes of a most respectable family. Here just now, too, is a, personal friend of mine, a man of weight and position 'in the Dominion. In Wellington he is seldom seen out of his own house after sunset but in Sydney he dimples and twinkles down the streets, never tires of giving .shillings to patriotic collecting girls, goes to a theatre every night, and gives a cock to his hat that in Wellington would not be considered at all proper. Then there is another—a gentleman who in New Zealand is an active politician and herder of politicians, very industrious and solemn. In Sydney he wears astonishing glad clothes, knows all the pretty florists, manicures incessantly, smokes expensive cigars in a most haphazard manner, takes the most deliriously upholstered, sleek young things out to tea, and never under any circumstances stops to consider. And audaciously he calls it suffering a recovery. Seriously speaking, I incline to the opinion that there is some solid ground for the idea that New Zealanders generally are slipping too easily from their local enthusiasms. Where there used to be a heated flow of soul there is nowadays only a loud talk about politics. All are for a party, and few are for the State. lam cosmopolitan by instinct and long habit, but I must confess to a certain admiration of the sturdy fellow who will have it that his own village is a great and incomparable place, because I think that it is only so in the end that the small places can be made great, if not incomparable. That is how Wanganui has been made, to mention one instance. There you will find still a genuine civic spirit and pride of locality. 'And as a result of that, Wanganui is now the cosiest and completest town of its size in Australasia. The next cosiest and- completest (of any size) is Tapu, which consists of an inn, a post office, a village green, and : several small houses impossible to classify during 1 the period of my brief visit. In Tapu ; every, resident would sooner live there than in Borne or Capri;, were it otherwise, he wouldn't stay. But I could mention other New Zealand places in which every second man. apologises for being where be is, and every fourth man is wheezily inclined to apologise for being alive and making an occasional remark. It is of such places that my friend was thinking, I suppose, when he mourned the decay in New Zealand of what he called the true parochial spirit. In Australia local enthusiasms everywhere run high. The Melbourne man will praise everything in Melbourne against all-comers, even (amazingly) the Melbourne climate. The Sydney* man, gloating over his own large and casual city that laughs all the day long and half the night through, is only sorry because when he' goes to heaven he'll "have to leave Sydney. The Adelaide man is spared that pleasant pang, because he believes that he is in heaven already. This sturdy belief in the perfection of all adjacent existing things and conditions has some ill-effects in Australia. It makes the existing average politician possible for instance. It makes Sydney people submit to their own most hideous and flagrant variety of the telephone horror. It is still a good thing, though, because it makes all things else secondary to the joy and contentment 'of living here and now. Nothing saddens Australia. The war doesn't. Even the death lists don't. And it is all because Australians believe so blindly and incurably in their own singular good fortune that deep in their hearts they can never realise that there is anything seriously wrong with the world. They are convinced that there isn't. . So am I.

There is, then, vastly much to be said for the wisdom of cultivating a proper parochial pride. If a man can he persuaded that he is living in the Garden of Eden be will insensibly do something to help the coming of the Eden reality. And there is plenty, to praise in New Zealand. There is the climate— and there a trifle harsh and trying, but on the whole exuberantly comfortable and good. There is the scenery, often most delightful where it is least advertised. I There is the wonderful general ease and security of life. There are all sorts of things. So why not be glad? Resolutely to be gladthat is the secret at the back of true love of locality; and it is that that keeps local patriotism in Australia so fierce and sweet. Various things have helped the tide of gladness ! during recent years. First of all, surf ' bathing. When I first came to Sydney as : a young fellow there was a theory that if j a man went in among the breakers a ! shark swallowed him before the undertow : had time to drown him. Then somebody discovered the truth about the surf, and j now the people bathp together in hundredson holidays, literally in thousands, j In the beginning there was an outcry of timid moralists against this sort of thing ; ! but nowadays even the most timid moral- | ist does not raise his voice against a prac- ' tice that has become a national institu- ' tion. So it is with costume. In New j Zealand one must wear Canadian costume ' in the water. In Sydney most of the ; men. and some of the women, have dis- i carded Canadian costume for the closer- I fitting and more comfortable style; and ! nobody is apparently any the worse. I There is no other pastime on earth so ut- I terly gladsome as surf bathing. I mention j this because there are so many neglected i beaches in New Zealand that are at pre- j Sent sadly neglected. Harbour beaches are useless for the purpose. Yon must ! have a bis tumble of genuine ocean surf, ! Try it and see. i

The cultivation of the true parochial spirit in an atmosphere of resolute gladness will do New Zealand much good, so far as the outside world goes. I am constantly meeting people who tell me that thev should certainly like to visit New Zealand, but—isn't the place dreadfully prim and dull? I heard one man nssuring a mixed company that in some New Zealand towns the curfew bell is still rur.g at sunset, and he seemed to speak quite f-erionslv. It is all very silly, of courts: but there is a reason for everything. Xrvr Zealand, unexampled in prosperity* r.nd comfort, ought to be the gladdest country in the world. It isn't. Why?' If you don't believe what I believe, "you ought bo explain why these thincrg agt