rethought, care, and organization. Luncheon is more of a scramble,
and, in the case of a numerous and scattered family, it is the
pleasantest of reunions.

My uncle Lord John Russell (1792-1878) published in 1820 a book of
_Essays and Sketches_, in which he speaks of "women sitting down to a
substantial luncheon at three or four," and observes that men would be
wise if they followed the example. All contemporary evidence points to
luncheon as a female meal, at which men attended, if at all,
clandestinely. If a man habitually sat down to luncheon, and ate it
through, he was regarded as indifferent to the claims of dinner, and,
moreover, was contemned as an idler. No one who had anything to do could
find time for a square meal in the middle of the day. But, as years went
on, the feeling changed. Prince Albert was notoriously fond of luncheon,
and Queen Victoria humoured him. They dined very late, and the luncheon
at the Palace became a very real and fully recognized meal. The example,
communicated from the highest quarters, was soon followed in Society;
and, when I first knew London, luncheon was as firmly established as
dinner. As a rule, it was not an affair of fixed invitation; but a
hostess would say, "You will always find us at luncheon, somewhere about
two"--and one took her at her word.

The luncheon by invitation was a more formal, and rather terrible,
affair. I well remember a house where at two o'clock in June we had to
sit down with curtains drawn, lights ablaze, and rose-coloured shades to
the candles, because the hostess thought, rightly as regarded herself,
less so as regarded her guests, that no one's complexion could stand the
searching trial of midsummer sunshine.

"Sunday Luncheon" was always a thing apart. For some reason, not
altogether clear, perhaps because devotion long sustained makes a strong
demand on the nervous system, men who turned up their noses at luncheon
on weekdays devoured roast beef and Yorkshire pudding on Sundays, and
went forth, like giants refreshed, for a round of afternoon calls. The
Sunday Luncheon was a recognized centre of social life. Where there was
even a moderate degree of intimacy a guest might drop in and be sure of
mayonnaise, chicken, and welcome. I can recall an occasion of this kind
when I saw social Presence of Mind exemplified, as I thought and think,
on an heroic scale. Luncheon was over. It had not been a particularly
bounteous meal; the guests had been many; t