WHO ARE THE UPPER TEN THOUSAND?
(In reply to a question of Fanny Forester's.)
Your postscript, asking “Enlightenment as
to the upper ten thousand” can not be answered with
a candle-end of attention. From the “sixes and
sevens” of our brain, we must draw a whole “dip,”
new and expensive, to throw light on that matter—
expensive, inasmuch as the same length of editorial
candle would light us through a paragraph. If adorable
“Cousin 'Bel” chance to be leaning over your
chair, therefore, beg her to lift the curtain of her
auburn tress-aract from your shoulder, and allow the
American public to look over while you read.
The upper ten thousand, all told, would probably
number one hundred thousand, or more: Not in England,
where the upperdom is a matter of ascertained
certainty, but in a republic, where every man has his
own idea of what kind are uppermost, and where, of
course, there are as many “ten thousands” as there
are different claims to position. Probably few things
would be funnier than for an angel suddenly to request
the upper ten thousand of New York to walk up
the let-down steps of a cloud, and record their names
and residences, for the convenience of the up-town
ministering spirits! A hundred thousand, we are sure,
would be the least number of autographs left in the
heavenly directory!
But, till we arrive at the “red-book” degree of definite
aristocracy, a newspaper addressed to the “upper
ten thousand” embraces a sufficient bailiwick for the
most ambitions circulation. There are all manner of
standards for “the best people.” The ten thousand
who live in the biggest houses would define New York
upperdom with satisfactory clearness, to some. The
ten thousand “safest” men would satisfy others. The
educated ten thousand—the religious ten thousand—
the ten thousand who had grandfathers—the ten
thousand who go to Saratoga and Newport—the
liberal ten thousand—the ten thousand who ride in
carriages—the ten thousand who spend over a certain
sum—the ten thousand “above Bleecker”—the ten
thousand “ever heard of”—are aristocracies as others
estimate them. And till the really upper ten thousand
are indubitably defined, there are ninety thousand,
more or less, who are in the enjoyment of a most desirable
illusion.
No! no!—republican benevolence—the “greatest
happiness of the greatest number”—would stop the
march of civilization as to aristocracy, where it is.
Its progress is through a reversed cornucopia, and the
extreme end is too small for the comfort of the “nation.”
Meantime, however, the standard of good
manners is rather loosely kept, and though the ten
“ten-thousands” are all seen to be tolerable, there is
a small class who go wholly unappreciated—those
who are
unconscious of their own degree from nature,
and are only recognisable by the highest standards.
We speak of those who have “no manner”—simply
because they would be less refined if they had. There
are enchanting women in New York—we ourself
know a half-dozen—who are wholly unaware themselves,
wholly unsuspected by others, of carrying a
mark from nature that in Europe would supersede all
questions of origin and circumstances.—English aristocratic
society is sprinkled throughout with these
sealed packets of nobility from God—one of whom I
remember inquiring out with great interest, a single
lady of thirty-six apparently, but looking like a distilled
drop of the “blood of all the Howards,” simple
as a tulip on the stem, and said, though obscurely connected,
to have refused a score of the best matches
of England. These “no manners” that are better
than “good manners” walk a republic quite undetected
as aristocracy; but, as the persons so born are always
beloved (losing only the admiration that is due to
them) their benighted state scarce calls for a missionary!
We should not be surprised if there were a pair
from this Nature's Upper-dom—
“Two trusty turtles, truefastest of all true,”
—in your own village, dear Fanny Forester!
