Chapter 38 – A Conquest of Europe begins by humorously casting Americans as the great “discoverers” of Europe, arriving around the mid-19th century with the same boldness and confidence as ancient conquerors. The chapter pokes fun at how Americans viewed the Old World—charming yet outdated, quaint but inefficient. Europeans are described as content craftsmen, still immersed in traditions, unaware of the rapid industrialization and modern conveniences that defined life across the Atlantic. Their buildings were lovely but fragile, their tools functional yet primitive. When Americans arrived, they brought with them the promise—or threat—of rapid progress, wrapped in the form of steamships, factories, advertising, and financial speculation. Where Europe had cathedrals, America had capital. Where Europe had artisans, America had entrepreneurs.

Once in Europe, Americans were initially welcomed with enthusiasm. Locals mistook the sheer confidence and spending habits of the first wave of visitors as signs that all Americans were immensely wealthy. Shopkeepers, innkeepers, and even minor nobility eagerly catered to these visitors, raising prices and adjusting services to attract more of the seemingly bottomless American wallet. But this fascination quickly turned to disillusionment. Americans didn’t just consume; they colonized taste, scooping up antiques, artworks, and cultural treasures with all the restraint of a gold rush. Local prices inflated. Credit systems were misused. Suddenly, these friendly visitors became economic invaders, draining cultural and commercial resources.

Yet the Europeans adapted. In a twist of irony, they began selling fakes and replicas to the eager American buyers. Faux Louis XVI furniture, ersatz Old Master paintings, and newly manufactured “antiques” flooded the market. Americans, eager to bring home tokens of cultural refinement, often couldn’t tell the difference—or didn’t care. Possession became more important than authenticity. This reversal turned the conquerors into the conquered, as their wealth was drained by clever European merchants. This trade, humorous and exploitative in equal measure, laid bare the naivety of those who believed money could substitute for discernment.

The narrative also draws parallels between the earlier English invasions of continental society and this new wave of American influence. Both groups were perceived as culturally tone-deaf, viewing local customs as oddities rather than traditions worthy of respect. Americans, however, went a step further. They didn’t merely ignore European customs—they tried to replace them. The desire for acceptance by aristocratic circles led many Americans, particularly women, to mimic old-world elegance, adopting European manners and wardrobe with near-fanatical zeal. Lavish balls, designer gowns, and exaggerated etiquette became weapons in the battle for social legitimacy.

But these efforts often fell flat. European elites viewed American money as vulgar and American behavior as gauche. No amount of imitation could erase the cultural distance. This exclusion deepened resentment among Americans, who believed their financial contributions should grant them access. What followed was a sort of identity crisis among expats—stuck between admiration for Europe and bitterness at being rebuffed. In this complex social ballet, Americans found themselves out of step, too eager to be liked, too loud to be ignored.

Diplomacy did little to help. American representatives abroad, often chosen for political loyalty rather than diplomatic skill, only worsened the perception. Instead of bridging cultural gaps, they frequently confirmed stereotypes of American arrogance and ignorance. Meanwhile, Americans who could not afford to return home or failed to establish meaningful European ties became stranded socially and financially. These expatriates, once ambitious and hopeful, turned into isolated figures clinging to an identity no longer tied to either continent.

The chapter ends with a symbolic act of retaliation. Americans, unable to gain cultural recognition abroad, begin appropriating French plays, stripping them of their original context and presenting them to American audiences as domestic creations. It was a quiet but telling rebellion—if Europe wouldn’t welcome America’s influence, then America would take what it liked and reshape it without permission. The gesture underscores the ongoing tension between cultural envy and defiance, between longing for old-world respect and asserting new-world dominance.

Ultimately, Chapter 38 satirizes not only the brashness of American travelers but also the vanity and rigidity of European society. It lays bare the missteps of cultural imperialism and the often comic attempts at social assimilation. Through clever metaphors and anecdotes, the author critiques both continents: one for its obsession with status, the other for its blind faith in money. In the end, the so-called conquest of Europe was not a victory but a farcical exchange of illusions—each side selling myths, each side buying in.