Life, 1886-12-09 · page 8 of 36
Life — December 9, 1886 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Genealogical Ghost: A Christmas Firework" This satirical piece mocks the pretensions of newly wealthy Americans trying to claim aristocratic lineage. The story describes Mrs. Morehead's Christmas party attended by young people with "old family" pretensions—though most are actually from recently enriched families (Burrs, Garnetts, Colts, etc.). The illustration shows a man appearing "pale and solemn as a ghost," apparently Bernard, who is being scrutinized by the assembled company. The satire targets the American obsession with genealogy and old-money respectability among the nouveau riche, who anxiously performed gentility while lacking genuine historical standing. The "ghost" suggests how hollow these genealogical claims appear—spectral fictions rather than substantive heritage.
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* LIFE: THE GENEALOGICAL GHOST. A CHRISTMAS FIREWORK. 1TH very few exceptions, the party which Mrs. Morehead had as- | sembled at her house, was a fine old party of young people. By this I mean that, notwithstanding they were young, they were all of old family — or what passed for such. And everyone knows how much better that is than to be an old person belonging to a young family. Some reflection of this sort, or rather a vague, pleasant feeling of Miss Minnie Vanvelsor—who, being only nineteen, was much below her lineage in years, and fortunately, as beautiful as she was lacking in antiquity — while she glanced around the brilliant -rooms. There was young, slim Oliver Spuytendyke —a rising leader of the German ;— Nicho- las Huppelpinner, the owner of such a lovely yacht, which has taken two or three cups, yet is not the least intoxicated by its success; and Dr. Slevinger, who is almost too aristo- cratic to practice —at least, until he finds some patients. Then there were the Misses Ootswarter, rich, accomplished and exclusive; and Wouter Van Hobbenail, with whom Miss Minnie was chatting at the moment. Nothing was needed to make these people perfect, except that the men should ap- “ pear in broad-brimmed_ hats, baggy knee-breeches and big- buckled shoes, with the long tobacco-pipes of their fore- fathers; and that the young ladies should wear the large hoops, the bodices and strange head-dresses of their female an- cestors. Still, that would have made an incongruity with the . other guests, who were more of “J the modern world ; for instance, the Abercrombie Burrs, Bran- dendale, the son of a famous attorney; the opulent Garnetts, the two young Colts, the to this effect, occupied the mind | ‘*AS PALE AND SOLEMN AS A GHOST.” Gilmartins and Grosiers, the Chutney Currys, and that young man of fastidious costume, Bellfield. The company, you see, was brilliant; and moreover, it was imbued with the properly subdued gaiety of Christmas week, Imported mistletoe was hung here and there; although, of course, everyone was too decorous to insist upon the tra- ditional.perils and privileges of passing under it. There were imported ideas in the heads of the young people; imported coats and dresses clothed them; and imported wines awaited them at the supper-table. So, the circumstances were all satisfactory, until — “T shall have the pleasure of the German with you, at the Patriarchs ?”” Wouter Van Hobbenail was inquiring sweetly. At that instant Minnie Vanvelsor beheld the ‘form of James Bernard, lurking in a doorway near-by, and almost shud- dered. “Thanks, thanks — beholden — Mr. Van Hobbenail. Yes, I’ll dance with you there, if you like.” Wouter was alarmed. “ Do you feel a draught, Miss Van- velsor ?” “No, its only — ” He followed the involuntary movement of her eyes, and caught sight of Bernard. “Ah,” he murmured signifi- cantly. “Did you ever notice,” he went on, resuming his usual dulcet, priggish manner, “ What a silent way Mr. Ber- nard has of coming around? There he is, now — as pale and solemn as a ghost.” “ Don't speak so!” cried Minnie, affecting fright. “How do you know he isn’t one?” Wouter smiled ; and, the next moment, his companion was as gay as ever. But presently she made an excuse to cross the room and speak with her aunt. That lady had just been saying to the eldest Miss Ootswarter, an ancient virgin whose discre- tion she trusted : “ Of course, you know, it’s impossible. Minnie never in the world could marry that man Bernard. He persists in being attentive, but — think of it!—he’s a nobody. Worse || than a nobody; for, besides not being of family, he is merely an artist — painter.” “T know,” said Miss Ootswar- ter; “ Preposterous, isn’t it? Can't you drive him off ?” “Oh, Minnie is quite of my way of thinking,” Miss Van- velsor’s aunt returned. “She has refused him once; but it seems to make no difference. Goodness gracious !” she added, “what audacity! He's here.” At the same instant Minnie reached her aunt’sside, her lovely gown making a rustle like the flutter of a startled bird. “I comicbooks.com