“Come!” said my friend, “what are you reflecting about? Do not look any longer on this tender victim of fashionable society. She is now but serving her apprenticeship; but will soon rise to the rank of ‘an ancient’ in the clique, and then treat every new-comer in precisely the same manner she is treated now. Let me rather make you acquainted with some of the lions that grace Mrs. ***’s party. Do you know that gentleman with grey hair standing in the corner? It is Mr. ***, originally of German extraction, who has changed his name in order to warrant the supposition of his being descended from a Norman family. He is a great public speaker,—that is, he speaks on all occasions; and has assured his party, who of course look upon democracy as the greatest curse of the country, that his father was a respectable man long before Tamany Hall[8] was built. This declaration, no doubt, secures to him the entrée of the first society; and, if he do not fail in business, the consideration of one of the oldest aristocrats of the city.
“A little further from him, on the right,” continued he, “you will notice a gentleman with a white cravat. He has always a little clientelle around him, for he is a millionnaire, descended from a millionnaire! I know very little of him or his father, except that the latter has made his money by successful speculations and great saving,—two poetical circumstances worthy of being immortalized by Washington Irving. Behind him is stationed Mr. ***, a gentleman of great business tact, who writes his letters on the backs of those which he receives; and is always particular in advising his friends with whom he has dealings to get his name on a piece of paper. He is a silent partner in half-a-dozen different concerns, and has the reputation of obstinately refusing in all cases to receive less than a hundred cents on a dollar.
“In the other corner of the room you will observe two gentlemen engaged in conversation with a lady, who is evidently tired of their attention. They are, as you might guess from this circumstance, nothing but ordinary professional men, whose daily earnings are just sufficient to keep them above water. They are merely invited from charity, being distant relations of the lady of the house, who, by showing them up, expects to improve their chance of success in business. One is a lawyer with a small practice; and the other a physician, who, as he cannot afford to keep a horse and gig, has as yet but little to do, but will undoubtedly succeed in obtaining a large practice if he should be successful in his attentions to Miss ***, a nice young girl of thirty-two, with plenty of money to set up a carriage.”
“But,” said I, more than dissatisfied with my friend’s satirical remarks, “how do you explain the generosity which some of the wealthiest citizens in this country manifest towards the poor, and especially to all charitable institutions?”
“There is,” replied he, “a sort of public generosity among the rich men in our Atlantic cities which delights in making donations to public institutions of all kinds; but woe to those who have private transactions with them!
“The public in America is always courted, even by the mushroom aristocracy of New York. Stephen Gerard, who by the moneyed men of the United States was considered as the quintessence of science and virtue, so that a salutation ‘Go and do as Stephen Gerard!’ would at any time have been equivalent to the ‘Vaya Usted con Dios!’ of the Spaniards,—Stephen Gerard himself, I say, was obliged to give away money to the poor, even during his lifetime!
“Besides, there is a good deal of satisfaction in giving away money to the public, in a public way, in a country in which the public is sovereign. It is a way of ingratiating one’s-self with one’s master, and of acquiring notoriety and credit for wealth, and thereby an indisputable claim to the highest respectability. When, in one of our Atlantic cities, it is once known that a man is rich, that ‘he is very rich,’ that he is ‘amazingly rich,’ that he is ‘one of the richest men in the country,’ that he is ‘worth a million of dollars,’ that he is ‘as rich as Stephen Gerard, or John Jacob ***,’ the whole vocabulary of praise is exhausted; and the individual in question is as effectually canonized as the best Catholic saint.
“I often alluded to this species of money-worship, when alone with my Northern friends; but they seemed to be surprised with the simplicity of my remarks. They saw nothing in it that was not perfectly commendable by common sense. ‘We imitate the English in that respect, as in every other,’ was their excuse; ‘and, as is usual with us, improve upon them. We do not think John Bull understands the value of money as well as ourselves; at least, he does not turn it to so good an account. All that can be said against us is, that we do not value other things as highly as we ought to do;’ and with this species of logic they seemed to be satisfied. But let us continue our tour.
“Do you observe that gentleman in tights, with large black whiskers? He is one of the most fashionable and aristocratic gentlemen in the city. I believe he served his apprenticeship in a baker’s shop, then went into an auction-room, then became a partner in the firm, and lastly took a house in Broadway, set up a carriage, and declared himself a gentleman. Nine-tenths of all the people that are called ‘fashionable’ in New York have had a similar beginning; and yet, if you listen to their conversation, you would swear they are descended in a direct line from William the Conqueror.
“No people on earth are more proud of their ancestors than those fashionable Americans who can prove themselves descended from respectable fathers and grandfathers. Take, for instance, the case of one of my young friends, who was sent to Europe by his family for the sole purpose of discovering his ancestors; or that of an acquaintance of mine in Boston, who has found a signet among the rubbish of his household, and now swears that it belonged to his great-grandfather, there being no other person to claim it; or that of Mr. ***, seated yonder by the side of that elderly lady, who has bought a lot of Dutch portraits in Europe,—all knights in armour,—in order to form a whole gallery of ancestors; or that of Mr. ***, who has discovered some faint analogy between his name and that of a certain animal, which he now uses as a coat of arms; and a hundred other examples I could quote.”