AN HISTORIC ADVANCE.

Observer, Volume XXXVII, Issue 44, 7 July 1917, Page 2

AN HISTORIC ADVANCE.

And Some Others. MR MASSEY has returned to New Zealand without a tittle. He, however, brought in a box Royal permission to designate His Majesty.'s representative in this Dominion "Th« Governor-General." We progress marvellously. It is almost humiliating to remember that this fair Dominion was once "a colony," a term then endeared to colonists by its. expressive meaning, and the suggestion that some Britons had "hived off" from the parent land, but were still of it heart and soul. "Dominion" made us feel larger, just in the same way that the keeper of a publichouse feels more important when he calls it "a hotel." Calling us a "Dominion" niade us feel as large as Canada. Having become entitled to regard ourselves as equally worthy of titular distinction as "Our Lady of the Snows," it necessarily followed that sooner or later the designation of the King's representative should be exalted. The distinction, although it has neither increased the area of New Zealand nor added to its. population., is unique. * * * Australia, which rejoices in a Governor-General, is a continent with a number of governments. The title of governor-general in Australia, as well as in Canada, was obviously conferred to distinguish the chief of the governors from the group of governors. The one State of New Zealand has therefore the unique privilege of ranking with a

bunch of states comprising a oon r tinent, and it is very gratifying indeed. We shall he prouder of our national debt than ever. Various titular Imperial alterations will enrich the. patriotism arid incline the heart of all Britons to praise. Princes of German designation have been fitted with characteristically British titles, so that when the taxpayer peruses the Civil List he will sing with great exultation, "He's a Fine Old English Gentleman"—and pay up in' his dear old fashioned way. It is as though Jack Johnston was created' an Anglo-Saxon by letters patent, and is a highly interesting way of giving a man a new breed. Titles matter a 'good deal, if . you come to think about it. A perusal of large numbers of English papers show that Mr Lloyd-George is commonly written "Premier." We have progressed in New Zealand. A reporter who does not write Mr Massey, "The Prime Minister," is almost unknown.

It was intensely refreshing a few years since to agree to the abolition of the poor old title "Agent-Gene-ral," and to substitute the ringing glory of "High Commissioner." It's a pity "Serene Highness" has gone by the board—it connoted a sublime exaltation that no ultimate residence in a mental hospital could dim. We still observe the ancient title of "Worship" for chief citizens and civil magistrates', but we proceed even in this department. We have in our time seen the passing of "Resident Magistrates," and the institution of "Stipendiary Magistrates"—a much more difficult and therefore more honouualble title. Something ought to be done about "Worships." "Your Ecstatic Worship" or "Your Sublime Altitude" would tickle a J.P. almost to death, and drive him to a morning sitting in a dress suit, and to a night school for the accumulation of aspirates. In countries where monarchies are falling about like packs of cards, titular distinctions are at the moment lying "perdu," and, unfortunately, a large number of heads are lying in the same situation, but it must be a tremendous consolation to an ex-marquis or an ex-Czar to read a list of the verbal glories to which he was once entitled.

Human nature loves swank. It loves a 7 ft. 6 in. drum-major with a nine feet stick and a three feet bearskin, even though, he couldn't knock a wafer off a plate. It loves to tell you that its father, a decent old A.8., was "a hadmiral." If its •father was only a bootmaker it doesn't mention it in the death notice, but it doesn't fail to remind you that its grandfather was Sir Suck lin Thumbkin or General Schwoslh-Buclerc. We hate "shops" —they are "emporiums." A weatherboard alleyway is a "golden arch." We know a decayed fruit shop in the South that is "the Pantheon." An industrious person who sits cross-legged all day is "a merchant tailor." We dare not nowadays say "lunatic asylum." We call it "mental hospital" (which incorrectly describe* it). Do rot please say "lumper" or "wharf labourer." "Waterside worker" has it. although the term might include persons in gold braid with the title of "captain." In another generation there will be no "Smiths." Smyth*, Smyth, Smithe do not belong to the ancient and honourable family of pounders of metal. But we haven't yet abolished the humble title of "private" from the Army. Gentlemen, let us rise and drink in sparkling (censored by the Alliance), "His Excellency the Governor-General!"