The Rise of Silas Lapham

“A man can be a man on Beacon Street as well as anywhere else, I guess.”

As they discuss whether to build a house in a fashionable neighborhood, Silas and Persis both engage in a faux modesty. They circle around each other, reaffirming the unnecessary idea of moving to such a neighborhood even though the desire is fermenting in their minds. Silas assures his wife that he can be just as much of “a man” (37) on the wealthy Beacon Street as he can be anywhere else. This is part of their own particular system of social etiquette, in which they reiterate their modesty at the expense of their desire, which stands in contrast to the system of etiquette among the Boston elite.

“He was really building several other houses, but he gave the Laphams the impression that he was doing none but theirs.”

Interactions between the rich and powerful are built largely on flattery and deception. Silas is keen to be flattered, willing to believe that he is the sole focus of his architect, even though this is not the case. Silas’s desire to be deceived in this manner reveals not just his naivety, but his subconscious desire to be part of the elite. He is willing to believe in a world where he is important enough to justify being his architect’s sole client.

“You can’t have a nice house for nothing.”

As Silas talks to Tom about his construction project, he brags about the money he has spent. His words have a more menacing subtext, however. The true cost of Silas’s nice house is not financial, but moral. Moral infractions are the cost of doing business for every wealthy man in America, representing the true price paid for the nice houses of the upmarket Boston neighborhood.

“Ah, we shall never have a real aristocracy.”

In historical terms, the United States is a relatively young country. Significantly, and in contrast to the European states from which it separated, the nation does not have a king or a nobility. Nevertheless, the rich men of the Gilded Age are beginning to conceive of themselves in these terms. Bromfield Corey laments the fate of the nascent American aristocracy by deploring the rise of newly moneyed men like Silas Lapham, even though his own wealth can only be traced back a few generations. Even in such a young country, the tendency toward aristocracy that once distinguished America from Europe is still desired among the American elite.

“At last the Colonel roused himself from the autobiographical delight of the history of his paint.”

Silas delights in telling the history of his mineral paint business because he views the paint as a way of telling his own story. The mineral paint is an unfashionable product that has nevertheless made him very wealthy. Likewise, he is an unfashionable man who has risen up to the social elite. The paint is disparaged by people like Mrs. Corey, but it is unmistakably profitable, forcing the elite to reckon with his uncouth wealth as they must reckon with the large advertisements that now scatter the landscape. Sharing the autobiography of the paint is a self-indulgent way of creating a personal hagiography with Silas as the hero.

“He had long hated their name as a symbol of splendor.”

Silas is aware of his relationship with the other wealthy people in Boston. He may have more money than most of them, but he does not enjoy the same social status, because he comes from a relatively poor background. He lacks the manners and social graces that are taught to the elite from a young age, so he resents the traditionally wealthy families like the Coreys and considers their names to embody this snooty, aristocratic attitude that alienates him.

“There’s still enough for all of us.”

The Corey family has a long tradition of lavish living among the Boston elite. They are aristocracy in all but name, which causes them to look down on people like Silas. Though they may be considered elite, their actual wealth is dwindling. Bromfield has never worked, and both he and his wife have offered their son the opportunity to similarly spend a life without any sort of profession. They can rework their finances, they say, to ensure that Tom never needs a job. He insists on earning a living, however, betraying his family’s idea of social propriety.

“And I made my money. I haven’t loafed my life away.”

Silas is keenly aware of the absurdity of the social hierarchies of Bostonian society. Wealth is what distinguishes the rich from the poor, yet the social elite do not regard wealth alone as tantamount to joining their ranks. Silas acknowledges this, even if he does not criticize the system itself. He is aware of the hypocrisy of a man worth 10 times less than him, who has never worked in his life, looking down on Silas because he lacks certain manners or has a certain accent. The absurdity and hypocrisy of the social elitism perplexes Silas, even as he tries to adhere to these complicated rules.

“‘I’ll risk it,’ said Lapham, with the confidence of a man used to success.”

Silas is confident in his ability to cultivate a marriage between Tom and Irene, whereas Persis demands more caution. Silas is flush with success and treats the budding romantic relationship as though it were a business deal. The eventual failure of his business and his matchmaking go hand in hand, a result of his arrogance and overconfidence.

“I haven’t read it, I read ‘The Daily.’”

In many subtle ways, the social differences between Silas and Bromfield are exposed. When Silas complains about an unfair profile of him in one newspaper, Bromfield admits that he reads a different publication. They operate in different worlds, taking information from different sources. The notion that Bromfield did not read The Events never occurred to Silas, who cannot grasp the multifaceted ways in which his world—while still built on wealth—does not match Bromfield’s world. Their respective choices in reading materials are signifiers of fundamental class differences, which Silas feels but does not quite comprehend.

“A dinner won’t leave us in any worse position, and may leave us in a better.”

The Corey family has such a better understanding of upper-class social etiquette that they are able to weaponize politeness to manipulate the Lapham family. In her attempts to dissuade Tom from the Lapham girls, Mrs. Corey decides to organize a dinner and invite the Lapham family. While this might seem to be a pleasant and friendly invitation, the cynical purpose is to show how ill-suited the Lapham family is to life among the Boston elite. A seemingly kind gesture has a mendacious intent.

“If we’re ever going to be anybody at all, we’ve got to go out and see how it’s done.”

Silas and Persis feel obligated to enter themselves into the social circles of the Boston elite for the sake of their daughters. In their previous interactions, they have been made painfully aware that they do not belong to the same social class, but they endure this awkwardness for the sake of their daughters. Persis and Silas subject themselves to anxiety and ostracization in the belief that—though they were born too poor to ever be truly rich—their daughters may one day achieve a level of social etiquette that they could never hope to achieve. To do so, they must endure events such as the dinner party.

“It was a great time; it was a triumph.”

Silas does not often drink alcohol. At the Corey’s dinner party, however, he gets drunk out of a sense of social embarrassment, as he does not want to offend his hosts. His drunkenness prompts him to overcome his inhibitions and he makes many social mistakes that will haunt him when he is sober. Silas is not only drunk on wine, however. He is inebriated by the company, drunk on the idea that he might consider himself as an equal among the Bostonian elite. This is an intoxicating idea for the man from a poor background who has long held a self-consciousness shame about his status.

“Why shouldn’t people in love behave sensibly?”

Tom’s discussion with Penelope foreshadows his declaration of love for her. His statement reveals the problem of perspective, however, as he sees his declaration as the most sensible solution to his situation while Penelope immediately fears that this will hurt Irene. Both are correct in their sensible deduction of the matter, but the complexity of their relationship suggests that nuance is as vital as behaving sensibly in romantic situations. This is a Realist, more than a Sentimental, point of view.

“But it is the curse of prosperity that it takes work away from us, and shuts that door to hope and health of the spirit.”

Persis has experienced poverty and wealth. The irony of her life as a wealthy woman is that she has no need to carry out the litany of household chores that once made up her day. Instead, she must confront her problems and not delay or distract herself. Now that she is rich, Persis has no way to feel useful without confronting difficult issues.

“I don’t know where this false ideal comes from, unless it comes from the novels that befool and debauch almost every intelligence in some degree.”

Sewell searches for an explanation for why people choose sentimental self-sacrifice over practical, realist solutions. He explains in detail why three miserable people is worse than one miserable person, even if this contravenes traditional literary tropes. The practical, realist solution to the problem faced by Tom, Penelope, and Irene is—in itself—a critique of Sentimental literature and a way to elevate Realist novels.

“You said it was foolish and wicked to do as that girl did.”

In trying to convince Penelope to return his love, Tom references her critique of the Sentimental novel that they discussed during his previous visit. Tom encourages Penelope to take a realistic approach, instead of a sentimental one. Placed in the situation herself, however, Penelope feels unable to do as she insisted the character must do. When faced with the prospect of hurting her sister’s feelings, Penelope hypocritically chooses sentimentality over a realist solution.

“Time will do the rest.”

Bromfield is a passive man. Despite his wealth and resources, he feels as though he is powerless to influence the world around him, and he is keen to maintain this passivity. He gave up his painting career to be a man of leisure, dwindling away the family fortune. When his son is caught in a predicament, Bromfield is similarly as passive. He relies on time and fate to resolve the situation, proposing to do nothing, just as he always has.

“But I shall have to hold up on the new house a little while, till I can see where I am.”

Silas views the new property as a reflection of his success. The completion of the new house in the fashionable part of town is a symbolic announcement of his arrival in the elite society in Boston. With his finances in tatters, however, and his family situation in turmoil, he brings a stop to the construction and—in a metaphorical sense—to his social mobility. Silas wisely and modestly pauses everything to reflect on where his ambition and arrogance have brought him and his family.

“I lost the money that would have carried me out of this.”

Silas’s confession to Persis is not only a moment of truth, but an acknowledgement of his own hubris. Though he promised never to play the stock market, he believed himself to be cleverer than he really was. Just as other parts of his life have spiraled out of his control, he has gambled away the savings that might have saved his life’s work and his family’s fortunes. Silas is not only commiserating his lost money, but he is also admitting to his own culpability in eliminating his protection.

“I must say he has behaved very well—like a gentleman.”

The irony of Silas’s financial ruin is that, through the navigation of his tragic circumstances, he is able to win the respect of the wealthy Bostonians that meant so much to him when he was so wealthy. James Bellingham compliments Silas’s behavior in a way that no other member of the elite has done. To such men, there is a sense of Silas’s downfall functioning as a suitable return to the natural order of the world. Bellingham appreciates the grace with which Silas has returned to his natural station in life, exiting the world of luxury far more graciously than he exited the dinner party.

“Bellingham was, in his way, part of that conspiracy by which Lapham’s creditors were trying to drive him to the wall.”

Placed under immense pressure, Silas develops a paranoia toward James Bellingham. To him, Bellingham represents the creditors and businessmen who are attempting to ruin him. Silas is correct in discerning an agenda against him but wrong in his diagnosis. Bellingham is not part of the group of creditors. He is actually quite well-disposed toward Silas. In reality, Bellingham represents the elevated upper classes who reject Silas because of his lack of manners. The true conspiracy—hidden in plain sight—is the highly stratified society that rejects Silas’s social mobility.

“She knew that she was only a blossomed weed, of the same worthless root as her mother, and saved, if saved, from the same evil destiny, by the good of her father in her.”

The Corey family looks down on people like Persis because of her modest background. They believe that she can never ascend into the elite because the circumstances of her birth mean that she is destined to belong to a lower social class forever. This view is not limited to the elite. Though Persis is a victim of this prejudice, she also applies it to those beneath her in the social hierarchy. She believes that Zerrilla, for example, is the daughter of a “worthless” (341) woman, whose only salvation lays in her father’s fleeting heroism. This kind of genetic predetermination is as absolute and as prejudiced as the Coreys’ class prejudice, though Persis never acknowledged this. She has internalized the prejudice of the class system to too great an extent.