It was still, however, very easy to ignore the arrogant, loud, egotistical industrialists who thought that they could be accepted simply by waving a few pound notes. Society had absolutely no interest in money from certain people. Then, however, everything got more complicated when the Arrivistes began to get savvy. They, unlike the heiresses, couldn't marry into Society, but they could form more of a metaphorical marriage between themselves and the traditional ways: by appropriating ancient artifacts which would inspire awe and appreciation of Society.
Then, however, many of the self-made men get smart and developed a plan. One of the most spectacular success stories tells of Sir Julius Wernher, a man with, in the words of Beatrice Webb, a "‘society'-loving wife– a hard, vainglorious woman, talkative and badly bred" (Perkin, pg. 73) Sir Wernher, however, despite all his flaws, bout Bath House, Piccadilly, and Luton Hoo, all magnificent houses, and made himself instantly acceptable to Society. (Perkin, pg. 73) Moving into the "right" neighborhoods during the London season worked marvelously well for some, such as J.B. Robinson, who bought Dudley House and John Jacob Astor rented Lansdowne House. (Cannadine, pg. 345)
More importantly, they entertained lavishly. Lady Jeune complained "the list of the smartest and most magnificent entertainments are not those given by the haute noblesse of England, but by a host of people, many of whose names are foreign, and who thirty years ago would not have been heard of outside their provincial home." (Cannadine, pg. 345)
They were even taking over Parliament: 1880 was the last election in which landowners were in the majority, and in 1885 they were a considerable minority.(Perkin, pg. 41) Society wives had to entertain them and suck up to them because, after all, that was what the Season was about. And with these new middle-class politicians came wives and daughters.
All of a sudden, one did not know one's friends. "Let any person who knows London society look through the list of debutantes and ladies attending drawing rooms, and I wager that not half the names will be known to him or her," said one 1890's observer of Society. In fact, this is a slight exaggeration: in 1841, 90% of the women presented at court were titled, and in 1891, only 68% were so. (Cannadine, pf. 346) Although this difference of only 12% seems very little over a fifty-year period, it is monumental in what it implies, especially in a court that hated frivolity, excess, and, especially, change: there was a new group of people on the London scene, and they could not be ignored.