evening to resume my journal to you.  On Monday we dined at Lord John Russell’s, and met many of the persons we have met before and the Duchess of Inverness, the widow of the Duke of Sussex.  On Tuesday we dined at Dr. Holland’s.  His wife and daughter are charming, and then we met, besides, Lady Charlotte Lindsay, the only surviving child of Lord North, Mr. and Mrs. Milman (the author of the “Fall of Jerusalem”), and Mr. Macaulay.  Yesterday I went to return the visit of the Milmans and found that the entrance to their house, he being a prebend of Westminster Abbey, was actually in the cloisters of the Abbey.  They were not at home, but I took my footman and wandered at leisure through the cloisters, treading at every step on the tomb of some old abbot with dates of 1160 and thereabouts.

Nothing could be more delightful than London is now, if I had only a little more physical vigor to enjoy it.  We see everybody more frequently, and know them better than in the full season, and we have some of the best specimens of English society, too, here just now, as the Whig ministry brings a good deal of the ability of the aristocracy to its aid.  The subjects of conversation among women are more general than with us, and [they] are much more cultivated than our women as a body, not our blues.  They never sew, or attend, as we do, to domestic affairs, and so live for social life and understand it better.

London, December 2, 1846.

My dear Mrs. Polk: [28] you told me when I parted from you at Washington that you would like to get from me occasionally some accounts of my experiences in English society.  I thought at that time that we should see very little of it until the spring, but contrary to my expectation we have been out almost every day since our arrival.  We made our début in London on the first day of November (the suicidal month you know) in the midst of an orange-colored fog, in which you could not see your hand before you.  The prospect for the winter seemed, I must say, rather “triste,” but the next day the fog cleared off, people came constantly to see us, and we had agreeable invitations for every day, and London put on a new aspect.  Out first dinner was at Lord Palmerston’s, where we met what the newspapers call a distinguished circle.  The Marquis of Lansdowne, Lord and Lady John Russell, Marquis and Marchioness of Clanricarde (Canning’s daughter), Earl and Countess Grey, Sir George and Lady Grey, etc., etc.  I was taken out by Lord Palmerston, with Lord Grey on the other side, and found the whole thing very like one of our Washington dinners, and I was quite as much at my ease, and they seemed made of the same materials as our cabinet at home.  I have since dined at Lord Morpeth’s, Lord John Russell’s, Lord Mahon’s, Dr. Holland’s, Baron Parke’s, The Prussian Minister’s, and to-day we dine with the Duchess of Inverness, the widow of the Duke of Sussex; to-morrow with Mr. Milman, a prebend of Westminster and a distinguished man of letters.  We have been at a great many soirées, at Lady Palmerston’s, Lady Grey’s, Lord Auckland’s, Lady Lewis’s, etc., etc.

And now, having given you some idea whom we are seeing here, you will wish to know how I like them, and how they differ from our own people.  At the smaller dinners and soirées at this season I cannot, of course, receive a full impression of English society, but certainly those persons now in town are charming people.  Their manners are perfectly simple and I entirely forget, except when their historic names fall upon my ear, that I am with the proud aristocracy of England.  All the persons whose names I have mentioned to you give one a decided impression not only of ability and agreeable manners, but of excellence and the domestic virtues.  The furniture and houses, too, are less splendid and ostentatious, than those of our large cities, though [they] have more plate, and liveried servants.  The forms of society and the standard of dress, too, are very like ours, except that a duchess or a countess has more hereditary point lace and diamonds.  The general style of dress, perhaps, is not so tasteful, so simply elegant as ours.  Upon the whole I think more highly of our own country (I mean from a social point of view alone) than before I came abroad.  There is less superiority over us in manners and all the social arts than I could have believed possible in a country where a large and wealthy class have been set apart from time immemorial to create, as it were, a social standard of high refinement.  The chief difference that I perceive is this: In our country the position of everybody is undefined and rests altogether upon public opinion.  This leads sometimes to a little assumption and pretension of manner, which the highest class here, whose claims are always allowed by all about them, are never tempted to put on.  From this results an extreme simplicity of manner, like that of a family circle among us.

What I have said, however, applies less to the South than to the large cities of the North, with which I am most familiar at home.  I hope our memory will not be completely effaced in Washington, for we cling to our friends there with strong interest.  Present my respectful regards to the President, and my love to Mrs. Walker and Miss Rucker.  To the Masons also, and our old colleagues all, and pray lay your royal commands upon somebody to write me.  I long to know what is going on in Washington.  The Pleasantons promised to do so, and Annie Payne, to whom and to Mrs. Madison give also my best love.  Believe me yours with the highest regard.

E. D. Bancroft.

2 December.

Yesterday we dined at the Prussian Minister’s, Chevalier Bunsen’s.  He met your father in Rome twenty years since, and has received us with great enthusiasm.  Yesterday at dinner he actually rose in his seat and made quite a speech welcoming him to England as historian, old friend, etc., and ended by offering his health, which your father replied to shortly, in a few words.  Imagine such an outbreak upon routine at a dinner in England!  Nobody could have done it but one of German blood, but I dare say the Everetts, who know him, could imagine it all.

To W. D. B. and A. B.

London, December 19, 1846.

My dear Sons: . . . Yesterday we dined at Macready’s and met quite a new, and to us, a most agreeable circle.  There was Carlyle, who talked all dinner-time in his broad Scotch, in the most inimitable way.  He is full of wit, and happened to get upon James I., upon which topic he was superb.  Then there was Babbage, the great mathematician, Fonblanc, the editor of the Examiner, etc., etc.  The day before we dined at Mr. Frederick Elliott’s with a small party of eight, of which Lady Morgan was one, and also a brother of Lord Normanby’s, whom I liked very much.  Lady Morgan, who had not hitherto much pleased me, came out in this small circle with all her Irish wit and humor, and gave me quite new notions of her talent.  She made me laugh till I cried.  On Saturday we dined at Sir Roderick Murchison’s, the President of the Geological Society, very great in the scientific way.