an act of revenge
quite as much as an act of hospitality. She takes far more pleasure in
thinking of the people she has _not_ asked than in thinking of those she
has."

Certain other examples of conversational art occur to me which I
associate with a form of entertainment now a thing of the past. Of
London life as it had been long before I knew it, a notable feature,
constantly referred to in memoirs, had been the breakfast party. It had
before my time nearly, but had not quite, disappeared. It was so far
kept alive by Lord Houghton, at all events, that a breakfast at his
house in Bruton Street is one of my own early recollections. The repast
began at ten and lasted for half the morning. There must have been about
twenty guests. Two of them were "lions," whose hair was more remarkable
than their speech. The rest were men of some sort of social eminence,
who seemed to find the occasion not wholly congenial; and, in spite of
the efforts of the host, conversation had a tendency to languish till a
topic turned up which was then attracting public notice. This topic
roused one of the guests--a seasoned man of the world--from a mood of
apparent apathy into one of such humorous animation that soon the rest
of the company were holding their breaths to listen to him. The topic in
question was a volume of scandalous memoirs which had lately been
published by Rosina, wife of the first Lord Lytton, for the purpose of
attacking a husband from whom she had long been separated. The guest to
whom I am now alluding caught the attention of everybody by confessing
to an intimate acquaintance with the ways of this caustic lady, and
proceeded to illustrate them by a series of amusing anecdotes of which I
recollect the following:

Bulwer Lytton, as he then was, was candidate for one of the divisions of
Hertfordshire, and speeches were being delivered from the hustings by
supporters of local influence--among others by Lord Cowper. Lord Cowper
was still speaking when something appeared at his elbow in the likeness
of the candidate's wife. "Now, Billy Cowper," she said, "we've listened
to you long enough. Sit down, and let _me_ speak. You propose,
gentlemen, to send my husband to Parliament. I am here to tell you that
Parliament is not the proper place for him. His proper place," she said,
pointing to the ground, "is below; and when you have sent him there, he
will learn something of what he at present knows nothing. That something
is Justice.