CIVIC SPLENDOUR.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume V, Issue 1429, 11 December 1886, Page 3

CIVIC SPLENDOUR.

I “Fine feathers make fine birds.” and 'albeit colonists—at any rate those of the old fashioned sort- are disposed to laugh at the grandeur with which officialdom in older countries surrounds itself, vet tor all that the love of finery which decks the neck of the savage with shark's teeth, and that of the ballroom belle with diamonds or pearls, is, we suspect, not wholly extinct, even amongst some who can lay claim to the title of “ old identities.” Once content —in the good old days—to don the blue jumper and moleskins, in the latter days of their prosperous career they blossom forth in the whitest of white waistcoats, the blackest of frock coats, and the shiniest of hell toppers, and chaperone to bails and routs and levees wives and daughters arrayed in all the glories of nineteenth century civilisation, as cop ed from the brilliant examples in Le Follet or the Magasin des Modes. As for the younger generation of colonials, the dresses of the ladies on gala occasions—as witness the lawn at Flemington on Cup day—vie, not unsuccessfully, with those of their fair sisters of the gay capitals of Europe and America, and the gilded youth of our plutocracy are worthy rivals of the exquisites of Paris, the mashers of London, or the dudes of New York. While thus ti e times have changed, and we, as colonists, have changed with them, it "is not surprising to find that the love of dtsplav, which has grown up in private life, has begun to extend itself to officialdom in i’s turn. At the recent Jubilee proceedings in Sydney there was a gr'herine of municipal dignitaries, to wlvch ihe Mayors of.the principal towns of the other colonies, New Zealand included, were invited, and the display of civic magnificence, whether or not specially intended, in the words of a once-popular song, to “astonish the Browns,” certainly succeeded in astonishing, and even exciting the envy, of at least one of that ilk, to wit, Mr A. W. Brown, who was present in his capacity as the Mayor of Wellington, or, as our friends over the other side it appears persisted in regarding him, the “Mayor of New Zealand.” His Worship was banqueted in the Empire City on Tuesday evening last, and in reply to the toast of his health gave an account of the glories of his brother Mayors and their attendant Councillors, which is somewhat amusing reading. There was “ the Mayor of Melbourne looking gorgeous in his black silk cloak, trimmed with fur and lined with mauve satin, and a magnificent double gold chain rouil his neck, cocked hat, kneebreeches, patent leather buckled shoes, and silk stockings. He was followed by his Aldermen and Councillors, who were dressed similarly, except that instead of cloak and gold chain, they each had a braided coat, which appeared to be a few centuries old.” Then there was “ the Mayor of Adelaide-dressed similarly to his brother of Melbourne, while the Mayors of Sydney and Brisbane had purple cloaks trimmed with eimine.” But we are fold by Mr Brown that “ the Mayor of Hobart was the greatest swell of the whole crowd—in white silk stockings, patent leather shoes with silver buckles, black satin vest (embroidered in colors), black silk cloak (handsomely trimmed), a gold chain, and cocked hat. Apparently, for self-defence he had a silver-hilted sword. These were the Mayors of the capital cities.” Yet, alas, there was one capital city, that of Wellington, whose Chief Magistrate was surrounded by none of these glories, the “ Mayor of New Zealand” having to appear in ordinary dress—we presume the orthodox swallow-tail and white choker—albeit we are glad to hear from his own lips that “he felt none the less distinguished on that account.” Bravo, Mr Brown ! “ the rank is but the guinea’s stamp, the man’s the gowd for a’ that.” But for a’ that and a’ that, it was perhaps a little hard to be the only crow among so many gay-plumaged birds, and Mr Brown’s suggestion that his successor should be provided with proper official costume deserves respectful consideration. The ordinary evening dress of an Englishman is hideous enough, it must be confessed, and it is as well, if possible, to enable the guests to be distinguished from the waiters; and while we are going in for classification by costume, we may perhaps also provide for distinguishing municipal dignitaries from ordinary civilians. But a cocked hat and sword, xMr Brown Well, we are not sure that that wouldn’t be too much glory altogether. Such splendour is apt to be cowering. __________