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That same year – 1848 – Lord Cowley was appointed English Minister at Frankfort, and Lady Cowley who was of a bright, kind and hospitable disposition, invited us to the dances she gave for her children. I never spent more enjoyable evenings. Her Twelfth Night dances live most gratefully in my recollection. At supper a large cake was brought in and was cut in slices for us by our amiable hostess. There were two beans in the cake and those who got them were proclaimed King and Queen and were attired in regal costume, while most of the other children were made knights and dames and were dressed accordingly. A procession was formed, we marched through the rooms, and we danced for the rest of the evening. Lady Cowley artfully contrived that young Meran should get one bean and Mdlle de Gagern the other, so that consequently they were proclaimed King and Queen. Lady Cowley threw herself heart and soul into the fun, dancing as merrily with the children as if she had been one of ourselves.

Four years later, much to our regret, Lord Cowley at the special request of the Emperor Napoleon was appointed British Ambassador at Paris and was replaced at Frankfort by Sir Alexander Malet. It would be well nigh impossible to find two more dissimilar couples in appearance and manner than the late Minister and his wife and the new Minister and his. Lord Cowley was the type of aristocratic breeding but cold and formal, while Lady Cowley was the most sociable and winsome of women. Sir Alexander was cheery and jovial, fond of a good dinner and a rubber of whist, while Lady Malet was a grey haired, serious minded literary woman. She had written a novel called ‘Violet’, the authorship of which, however, she would not acknowledge, and she expended most of her affection on her many dogs which accompanied her on her drives in a closed brougham. Edward Malet, their eldest son – till lately Ambassador at Berlin – was then a boy at school, and he and I have remained on intimate terms ever since.

Sir Edward, I believe, was appointed to Berlin at the special request of Prince Bismarck, who had been Prussian Minister at Frankfort at the time that Sir Alexander Malet represented Great Britain at the German Confederation, and for whom he had conceived a great liking. Of Prince, then plain M. von Bismarck, I have but the vaguest recollection, and though he probably came to our house I cannot remember his having done so. But an anecdote characteristic of the man of blood and iron which I then heard has remained in my mind. The German Confederation was presided over by the Austrian Minister, who to show his superiority over his colleagues indulged in a frequent cigar during the meetings, while they had to abstain from smoking. Bismarck, however, being loth to play second fiddle, and at the same time anxious to assert Prussia’s claim to equality with Austria, on seeing the President with a cigar took another from his own case and coolly asked the Austrian Minister for a light. Henceforth Bavaria, Saxony and all the rest smoked at the Conferences.

About that time I was sent to the Gymnasium, the public school, and I hated it cordially all the five years I had to sit on its hard benches. It was situated in the most squalid part of the town, and the