Yesterday Your Father And I Dined With Sir George Grey.
.
. . About
four o'clock came on such a fog as I have not seen in London, and
the newspapers of this morning speak of it as greater than has been
known for many years. Sir George Grey lives in Eaton Place, which
is parallel and just behind Eaton Square. In going that little
distance, though there is a brilliant gas light at every door, the
coachman was completely bewildered, and lost himself entirely. We
could only walk the horses, the footman exploring ahead. When the
guests by degrees arrived, there was the same rejoicing as if we had
met on Mont St. Bernard after a contest with an Alpine snow-storm. .
. . Lady Grey told me she was dining with the Queen once in one of
these tremendous fogs, and that many of the guests did not arrive
till dinner was half through, which was horrible at a royal dinner;
but the elements care little for royalty.
November 14th
On Saturday we dined at the Duc de Broglie's. He married the
daughter of Madam de Stael, but she is not now living. I was very
agreeably placed with Mr. Macaulay on one side of me, so that I
found it more pleasant than diplomatic dinners usually. At the
English tables we meet people who know each other well, and have a
common culture and tastes and habits of familiarity, and a fund of
pleasant stories, but of course, at foreign tables, they neither
know each other or the English so well as to give the same easy flow
to conversation.
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