To G. K. S.
May 6, 1885.
We had yesterday a typical London Season evening. We dined at Lady Vivian's—a large, handsome dinner, everybody rather in a hurry to get away, as there were two big parties; Lady Derby's in St. James's Place, and Lady Salisbury's in Arlington Street. We drove down Piccadilly with much difficulty, getting along very slowly in spite of our "white card," but finally did arrive at Lady Derby's. The staircase was a mass of people struggling to get in, an orchestra playing, and about 1,200 people in rooms that would hold comfortably about half. Of course on such occasions one doesn't talk. We spoke to our host and hostess, were carried on by the crowd, made the tour of the rooms and got down again with much waiting and jostling, as there were two currents coming and going. However, we did finally get our carriage, and then with many stops and very slowly, got to Arlington Street, where apparently the same people were struggling on the staircase, the same orchestra playing, and just as big a crowd (I should think the whole Conservative party), for though the house is larger they had invited more people, so the result was practically the same. We did exactly the same thing, exchanged a few words with Lady Salisbury, made the tour, and came home. We were two hours performing these two receptions, but I suppose it was right to do it once. However, the English certainly enjoy the sight, and don't mind the waiting. Lady Jersey, who is a grandmother, told me this afternoon she had bored herself to death last night. "Why did you go?" I said, "you must know these big political parties by heart." "Oh, I like the parties," she said; "only I didn't get to either," and then she explained her evening. She started alone in her carriage at 10 o'clock for Lady Derby's, was kept waiting an interminable time in Piccadilly, and when she finally did reach Lady Derby's door, a friendly link-man advised her not to go in as everybody was coming away, and she would never get up the stairs, so she turned back and proceeded to Arlington Street. She had the same crowd, the same long wait, and when she arrived at Lady Salisbury's the party was over, and no one could possibly get in. It was then midnight, and she drove home, having passed her whole evening since 10 o'clock alone in her brougham in Piccadilly.
The Salon of the French Embassy in London, 1891
May 9, 1885.
This afternoon we have had a conférence "sur Racine" in the big drawing-room. A good many people came and apparently listened, and I hope it may do the young lady good. Mlle. de B. wishes to get up classes of French literature for ladies, but I hardly think it will succeed here in the season; on a bright day no one will shut herself up in a smallish room to hear about Racine, Molière, etc. I was amused by one of our colleagues whom I invited. He refused promptly, "he really couldn't do that even for me. He hadn't thought about Racine since he left school, and hadn't felt it a blank in his life." Mlle. de B. did it very well; she sat on a little platform with a table in front of her, and all the swells in red and gilt arm-chairs facing her, and looking at her hard. She was a little nervous at first, but soon got over that, and her language was good and well chosen, she knew her subject perfectly, and spoke in a pretty clear voice. This was the invitation:—