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patronised by many ladies both young and old, probably they were not as tiresome as the gentlemen, who were excluded from them, assumed. The first entertainment of a livelier kind which I can recollect was some tableaux vivants in which I took part. I was attired as miniature footman and thereby incurred the derision of our lacqueys. I had to hold a tea tray containing a tea-set, and to my everlasting dismay and the amusement of the whole company, I dropped the tray at the critical moment and was well laughed at for my awkwardness. The next was a concert at which the great tenor Rubini sang – a puny little man with a lovely voice – and soon after this, a party at which Rachel recited. I can still see the great tragedienne standing in the centre of the drawing room very plainly dressed, and wearing a black veil over her auburn hair. She recited a scene from memory from Racine’s Esther, while her brother Felix read his part from a book. I was too young to appreciate the way she rendered the lines but the tenderness of her rich mellow voice still lingers in my memory, and the wonderful expression of her deep brown eyes will haunt me as long as I live. I was not allowed to see her act and was terribly jealous of my Brother when he came home raving about her performance of Phèdre.

All the famous artists of Europe came ‘starring’ to Frankfort, foremost among them Jenny Lind. I was taken to see her in ‘The Daughter of the Regiment’, and I can remember the pink silk gown she wore as well as the fact that I thought her very plain, but alas! the dulcet notes of the ‘Swedish Nightingale’ were wasted on my childish ears. The Countess Rossi, between known as Madame Sonntag appeared at the theatre some little time later. She was a handsome and very ladylike woman and was ‘received’ in society where she behaved with much dignity. My Mother told me that the only proof she ever gave of having sprung from the middle classes was the fashion she had retained of eating with her knife.

It was a red-letter day with me when my parents gave a ball. The invitation list was made up from the cards that had been left. Woe to him or her who had not left a pasteboard! – for in matters of etiquette Frankfort was as much a stickler as any European capital, and the non-return of a card was an affront that led to interminable warngling. Great was my delight when the lacqueys donned their state liveries, but the kitchen was my favourite region, and there I prowled about seriously interfering with Louis our Chef and his helpmates who were preparing the supper. I watched the dancing from behind a tall screen, and received at times a sound box on the ear for making a noise or for venturing from my concealment. On one of these occasions I saw the tall and imposing figure of the then Prince of Prussia – the future Emperor William.

An amusing incident occurred at one of the dances my Mother gave about that time. Amongst her acquaintances was the Count Szechenyi, then an Attaché at the Austrian Legation, and recently I believe Austrian Ambassador at Berlin. He was an excellent musician, and my Sister Louisa who was an equally good musician and had a wonderful ear and a most retentive memory begged him to let her have a polka he had just composed and had played to her, so that it might be performed at our next