who
called himself Loredano, or Gradenigo, or Morosini, or Renier, or
Rezzonico did not ask to be called differently. In our own day a lady of
the ancient and splendid family of the Peruzzi in Florence denied that
the title of count existed in it or need exist: "Ognuno puo essere
conte: Peruzzi, no." ("Any one may be a count; but not a Peruzzi.") In
like manner such names as Lincoln and Franklin, and Washington and
Grant, and Longfellow and Bryant could have gained nothing by Mr. before
them or Esq. after them. Doctor Socrates or Doctor Seneca would not have
descended to us in higher regard with the help of these titles; and
Rear-Admiral Themistocles or Major-General Epaminondas could not have
had greater glory from the survival of parchments so directed to them.

The Venetian nobles who disdained titles came in process of time to be
saluted as Illustrissimo; but in process of time this address when used
orally began to shed its syllables till Illustrissimo became
Lustrissimo, and then Strissimo, and at last Striss, when perhaps the
family name again sufficed. So with us, Doctor has familiarly become
"Doc," and Captain, "Cap," until one might rather have no title at all.
Mr. itself is a grotesque malformation of a better word, and Miss is a
silly shortening of the fine form of Mistress. This, pronounced Misses,
can hardly add dignity to the name of the lady addressed, though
doubtless it cannot be disused till we are all of the Society of
Friends. The popular necessity has resulted in the vulgar vocative use
of Lady, but the same use of Gentleman has not even a vulgar success,
though it is not unknown. You may say, with your hand on the bell-strap,
"Step lively, lady," but you cannot say, "Step lively, gentleman," and
the fine old vocative "Sir" is quite obsolete. We ourselves remember it
on the tongues of two elderly men who greeted each other with "Sir!" and
"Sir!" when they met; and "Step lively, sir," might convey the same
delicate regard from the trolley conductor as "Step lively, lady." Sir
might look very well on the back of a letter; Smythe Johnes, Sir, would
on some accounts be preferable to Smythe Johnes, Esq., and, oddly
enough, it would be less archaic.

Such of our readers as have dined with the late Queen or the present
King of England will recall how much it eased the yoke of ceremony to
say to the sovereign, "Yes, ma'am," or "Yes, sir," as the use is,
instead of your Majesty. But to others you cannot s