And who are these of our secondly, these "old families?" The spirit of
our time and of our country knows no such thing, but the habitue of
"society" hears constantly of "a good family." It means simply, the
collective mass of children, grand-children, nephews, nieces, and
descendants, of some man who deserved well of his country, and whom his
country honors. But sad is the heritage of a great name! The son of
Burke will inevitably be measured by Burke. The niece of Pope must show
some superiority to other women (so to speak), or her equality is
inferiority. The feeling of men attributes some magical charm to blood,
and we look to see the daughter of Helen as fair as her mother, and the
son of Shakespeare musical as his sire. If they are not so, if they are
merely names, and common persons--if there is no Burke, nor Shakespeare,
nor Washington, nor Bacon, in their words, or actions, or lives, then we
must pity them, and pass gently on, not upbraiding them, but regretting
that it is one of the laws of greatness that it dwindles all things in
its vicinity, which would otherwise show large enough. Nay, in our
regard for the great man, we may even admit to a compassionate honor, as
pensioners upon our charity, those who bear and transmit his name. But
if these heirs should presume upon that fame, and claim any precedence
of living men and women because their dead grandfather was a hero--they
must be shown the door directly. We should dread to be born a Percy, or
a Colonna, or a Bonaparte. We should not like to be the second Duke of
Wellington, nor Charles Dickens, Jr. It is a terrible thing, one would
say, to a mind of honorable feeling, to be pointed out as somebody's
son, or uncle, or granddaughter, as if the excellence were all derived.
It must be a little humiliating to reflect that if your great-uncle had
not been somebody, you would be nobody--that, in fact, you are only a
name, and that, if you should consent to change it for the sake of a
fortune, as is sometimes done, you would cease to be anything but a rich