In Day One: Evening, Stevens recalls a controversy over the secret membership requirements for the highly influential Hayes Society, which "claimed to admit butlers of 'only the very first rank.'" While defending their membership qualifications, the Society makes an (arguably hyperbolic) allusion that many of its detractors found distasteful:
In response to further letters in A Quarterly, the Society justified its stance by saying that while it accepted some correspondents’ views that certain butlers of excellent quality were to be found in the houses of businessmen, ‘the assumption had to be that the houses of true ladies and gentlemen would not refrain long from acquiring the services of any such persons’. One had to be guided by the judgement of ‘the true ladies and gentlemen’, argued the Society, or else ‘we may as well adopt the proprieties of Bolshevik Russia’.
Recall that the Hayes Society had just revealed one of their membership requirements: a butler must work in a "distinguished household" to be a member. In other words, the butler hoping to be considered for membership should work for someone in the aristocracy ("true ladies and gentlemen"), not anyone who happens to have enough money for a large house and a full-time staff ("businessmen").
The Society then derogatorily alludes to "Bolshevik Russia." In essence, they claim that admitting butlers who have only worked for businessmen into the ranks of their members would be such a radical departure from tradition, and would be so disrespectful to the aristocracy, as to constitute communism. It's not surprising that this hyperbolic allusion annoyed many, and even Stevens disagrees with the Society's hardline stance on this issue. Communists, including the far-left Bolsheviks, did seek to dismantle class categories, including that of the aristocracy. But this proposed change in membership requirements for a society celebrating excellent butlers is a far cry from anything the Bolsheviks undertook during their control of Russia. The Society's steadfast adherence to tradition, and its alarmist reaction to the proposed altering of that tradition, illustrates how rigid and old-fashioned Stevens's profession can be.
Lord Darlington alludes to the Treaty of Versailles in Day Two: Morning, during a conversation with Stevens.
Last time I was in Berlin, Stevens, Baron Overath, old friend of my father, came up and said: “Why do you do this to us? Don’t you see we can’t go on like this?” I was jolly well tempted to tell him it’s those wretched Frenchmen. It’s not the English way of carrying on, I wanted to say. But I suppose one can’t do things like that. Mustn’t speak ill of our dear allies.
The Treaty of Versailles was one of the treaties that ended World War I, and it punished Germany heavily for its involvement in the war. The treaty's terms included reparations to be paid to other countries, the forfeiture of certain areas conquered during the war, and an admission of Germany's guilt. Many Germans felt these terms were unfairly harsh and caused the severe economic crisis the country experienced after the war, although contemporary historians believe that crisis had more to do with the spread of the Great Depression throughout Europe. Resentment toward the Treaty of Versailles was so severe in Germany that some Germans believed the German government that had signed it (at the time, the Weimar Republic) had been infiltrated by communists, so-called degenerates, and Jewish people who sought to undermine Germany.
Reactions from other countries were mixed. The French were initially overwhelmingly in favor of the treaty, but some eventually believed it should have been even harsher. Powerful Englishmen also disagreed about the treaty, and Lord Darlington's opinion that the treaty was too harsh was shared by many influential Britons. It's accepted by today's historians that the Treaty of Versailles was, at the least, a convenient symbol which allowed the Nazis to come to power and disparage the Weimar Republic. Whether the treaty's terms were too harsh, or were the primary cause of Germany's economic struggles, remains an open question.
In Day Three: Morning, Stevens illustrates the importance of polishing silver with several allusions to famous Britons who admired Darlington's silverware during their visits to the household. For instance:
I recall also watching Mr George Bernard Shaw, the renowned playwright, at dinner one evening, examining closely the dessert spoon before him, holding it up to the light and comparing its surface to that of a nearby platter, quite oblivious to the company around him.
Stevens also tells readers that appreciators of Darlington's silver included Lady Astor and Lord Halifax, the latter of whom plays a more prominent role in the novel.
George Bernard Shaw was, as Stevens says, a famous playwright whose works are still read in classrooms and performed on stages today. He was a prolific writer, and his (often satirical or humorous) plays include Pygmalion, Man and Superman, and Major Barbara. His political beliefs were often eccentric and upsetting to those on every part of the political spectrum, but in the memory Stevens relays, it seems Shaw is more fascinated by the well-polished silver than by any political debates occurring around him.
Lady Nancy Astor was the first woman to become a Member of Parliament in the House of Commons, and she was also a conservative with sympathetic views toward Nazism. She left her career in politics toward the end of World War II, much like Lord Darlington apparently did.
Finally, Lord Halifax (Edward Wood, the 1st Earl of Halifax) was a highly influential British statesman before and during World War II. He was heavily involved in the British government's international affairs, and as World War II crept closer, he tried to facilitate friendly communication between his government and Germany's. He promoted appeasement of Hitler until around 1938, when he began pushing for British defense of Poland. In fact, his influence was so strong that, after Neville Chamberlain resigned as Prime Minister, Halifax had to first turn down the position before Churchill could take it.
Stevens alludes to these famous visitors to back up his claim about the importance of a well-run house. If all of these personages could be impressed and even (as in Halifax's case) calmed by the silverware, which was excellently polished by the butler and his staff, then surely what a great house's staff does matters. However, given the unpleasant results of these political maneuverings, especially Darlington's persuasion of Halifax to meet with German officials, Stevens's claim opens up a new set of questions. Is it simply true that good work in an important household is beneficial regardless of what agenda the house's lord pushes? Or is Stevens's great work on the silver somehow compromised by Darlington's politics and mistakes?
In Day Three: Evening, Stevens reminisces about a 1935 conversation he and Lord Darlington had about politics. In it, Darlington alludes to a few of the powerful governments of the 1930s:
Ordinary, decent working people are suffering terribly. Germany and Italy have set their houses in order by acting. And so have the wretched Bolsheviks in their own way, one supposes. Even President Roosevelt, look at him, he’s not afraid to take a few bold steps on behalf of his people. But look at us here, Stevens. Year after year goes by, and nothing gets better. All we do is argue and debate and procrastinate.
This flashback, like most of the memories Stevens writes about, takes place during the interwar period. World War II was yet to begin, but the fascist regimes that eventually fought the Allied Forces were already burgeoning. When Darlington references Germany and Italy, which he sees as having solved their problems "by acting," he refers to Hitler's Germany and Mussolini's Italy, two fascist dictatorships. While Darlington clearly doesn't care for the Bolsheviks, who ran Russia during this time period, he likewise appreciates their staunch and anti-democratic control over their country. Likewise, Franklin D. Roosevelt was a U.S. president who, despite largely being considered one of the best presidents in American history, has also been criticized for growing presidential power and staying in office for longer than was the norm. In all of these examples, what Darlington appreciates is the movement from a more democratic (and, he says, cautious) government toward one that vests more power in a single person or ideological system to the detriment of other beliefs. Darlington metaphorically says Germany and Italy "have set their houses in order," and Roosevelt has taken "a few bold steps," both euphemistic ways of describing these shifts in governing norms.
Darlington goes on to use a metaphor to illustrate his point against democracy:
If your house is on fire, you don’t call the household into the drawing room and debate the various options for escape for an hour, do you?
Metaphorically, Darlington compares England's situation to a house on fire. Although the wise thing would be to act quickly, in his view, democracy has forced England to pause at this crisis point and "debate the various options" to the point of paralysis. Although he doesn't make it clear, Darlington's "house on fire" is likely the Great Recession, an economic collapse that began in the United States but quickly spread to Europe.