“Whenever one of our wealthy stockholders,” continued he, “invites a poor devil to his house, the particular relation of entertainer and guest changes nothing in the relative position of the parties: the rich man still continues to assume the peculiar insolent condescension of a patron; while the man without credit will exhibit in his conduct the humiliating consciousness of his ‘insufficiency.’ If you took notice of the manner in which the lady of the house courtesyed to the gentlemen that were presented to her, you must have been able to distinguish the capitalist from the poor beginner, or unsuccessful speculator, as effectually as if their property had been announced with their names. Every additional thousand produces a new smile; for it is impossible for our people to consider a man independently of his circumstances.”
“This,” observed I, “is the fault of every practical nation, especially of the English, who are the most purse-proud and exclusive people in Europe.”
“I know that,” replied he: “but the English reward talent of every description higher than any other nation in the world; so that money is, in a certain sense, the just measure of capacity. In America, on the contrary, there are but few branches of industry, and almost none of learning, which are sure of meeting with an adequate remuneration in money; so that, if men are merely judged by their wealth, the meanest bank or counting-house clerk, or a common shopkeeper, has a better chance of arriving at respectability than the most successful scholar in the most difficult branches of human learning. Society, in this manner, must become lower and lower every day; there being no entailed estates or large hereditary possessions in the United States, securing to a privileged class the necessary means and leisure for the gratuitous pursuit of arts and sciences. And, as for the English being exclusive, you forget that, when English people assume that character, they possess generally the tact and à-plomb necessary for carrying it off; whereas, here you often meet the same spirit among people whose wealth is credit and expectancy, and whose manners and education are identified solely with the desk and ledger. Thus the terms ‘patron’ and ‘client’ are in New York, for instance, synonymous with ‘creditor’ and ‘debtor;’ and as the banks, according to the prevalent system of credit, must inevitably be the creditors of nine-tenths of the community, every person connected with them—and, above all, a stockholder, cashier, or president—must necessarily be a patrician. The whole composition of our society is arithmetical; each gentleman ranking according to the numerical index of his property. You need only watch the conduct of the society in this room, and you will satisfy yourself of the truth of my assertion.
“Do you know that lady in pink satin,” he continued, “who is talking to the lady dressed in white, across that modest-looking woman with the pale face, who is evidently embarrassed by this rudeness?”
I replied in the negative.
“The first,” he said, “is the daughter of an honest shoemaker, who has become very rich by his industry, and is bitterly grieved by the aristocratic haughtiness of his daughter. I have heard it asserted that he often threatened her to hang up a last in his parlour, instead of a coat of arms, to punish the ridiculous pretensions of his family.”
“Such a character,” said I, “would have done credit to a Dutch burgomaster in the best times of the republic. But who is the lady thus planted between two of her sex, who are determined to take no more notice of her than if her chair were empty?”
“She is the wife of an American commodore,” replied he; “one of the most gallant officers in the navy, who has shed his blood in his country’s service. What further comment does this require?—what greater proof would you have of the insufferable arrogance of our moneyed aristocracy?”
“Let us follow that young lady, whose face I have never seen before in society,” observed my friend after a short pause: “she looks as though she had never been used to company, and will probably become the butt of the aristocratic misses who keep possession of the floor.”
The unfortunate girl, led by a young man, who, to judge from his manners, was a stranger in the city, had scarcely entered the dancing-room before every eye was turned upon her, and the most insolent, half-loud inquiry instituted as to “who she was,” and “where she came from?”