'In the best English political and literary society there is no conversation. Mr. Gladstone will talk with much charm about matters that he does not understand, or books that he is not really competent to criticize; but his conversation has no merit to those who are acquainted with the subjects on which he speaks. Men like Lord Rosslyn, [Footnote: Lord Rosslyn died in 1890.] Lord Houghton, Lord Granville (before his deafness), had a pleasant wit and some cultivation, as had Bromley Davenport, Beresford Hope, and others, as well as Arthur Balfour, but none of these men were or are at a high level; and where you get the high level in England, you fall into priggism. On the whole, Hastings, Duke of Bedford, was the best specimen that I ever knew of an English gentleman as regards learning and conversation; but then he was horrible as a man, in spite of his pretty manners, because ferocious in his ideas upon property. Now, at Rome is to be found that which is unknown in London, in Paris, in St. Petersburg, and unknown, I fancy, at Vienna and Berlin, although of these I know far less--namely, conversation not priggish or academic, and yet consistently maintained at a high level. 'I often heard Mr. Gladstone talk well at little Charles Forster's. "Mr. G." also seemed to me to talk especially well at the table of Sir Walter James, [Footnote: The first Lord Northbourne.] an old gentleman who had left Parliament soon after I was born. In those two houses he was supreme; but if Coleridge or the Viper (Abraham Hayward) or Browning were present, who talked better than he did, and would not give way to him, he was less good. Villiers, who was another good talker, "Mr. G." could not abide, and his presence also was a damper.' In the next year we have 'a dinner at the French Embassy, where Gladstone was very agreeable, talking French well in an old-fashioned style.' Also, in 1880, there is a dinner to which 'the first man to come was the Duke of Cambridge, who gave Mr. Gladstone his left hand, and said that his right was too painful through gout. Mr. Gladstone threw his arms up to the sky, as though he had just heard of the reception of Lord Beaconsfield in heaven, or of some other similar terrible news. His habit of play-acting in this fashion, in the interest of a supposed politeness, is a very odd one, giving a great air of unreality to everything he does; but of course it is a habit of long years. 'I heard good talk about this time at Coleridge's house, but preferred his Blakes--which were even better than mine--to his conversation.' Under the date February 23rd is record of sitting up late at night at the Lubbocks' with Sir James Fitzjames Stephen, the Judge: