On Monday evenings in London my mother used to go regularly to the Monday Pops at St. James’s Hall, and on Saturday afternoon also. Dinner was at seven on Mondays, and we used to go down to it, and watch my mother cut up a leg of chicken and fill it with mustard and pepper and cayenne pepper to make a devil for supper. Margaret was sometimes taken to the Monday Pop, as she was supposed to like it, but the others were seldom taken, in case, my mother used to say, “You say when you are grown up that you were dragged to concerts, and get to dislike them.” The result was a feverish longing to go to the Monday Pop. I don’t remember going to the Monday Pop until I was grown up, but I know that I always wanted to go. I was taken to the Saturday Pop sometimes, and the first one I went to was on 8th November 1879. I was five years old. This was the programme:

Quartet, E FlatMendelssohn
Mme Norman Neruda, Ries, Zerbini, Piatti.
Song“O Swallow, Swallow”Piatti
Mr. Santley.
Violoncello obbligato, Signor Piatti.
Sonata, C Sharp Minor“Moonlight”Beethoven
Mlle Janotha.
Sonata in F Major for Pianoforte and Violin, No. 9Mozart
Mlle Janotha and Mme Norman Neruda.
Song“The Erl King”Schubert
Mr. Santley.
Trio in C MajorHaydn
Mlle Janotha, Mme Norman Neruda, Signor Piatti.

Every winter we were taken to the pantomime by Lord Antrim, and the pantomimes I remember seeing were Mother Goose, Robinson Crusoe, Sinbad the Sailor, Aladdin, and Cinderella, in which the funny parts were played by Herbert Campbell and Harry Nicholls, and the Princess sometimes by the incomparably graceful dancer, Kate Vaughan.

I also remember the first Gilbert and Sullivan operas. Pinafore I was too young for; but I saw the Children’s Pinafore, which was played by children. Patience and Iolanthe and Princess Ida I saw when they were first produced at the Savoy.

Irving and Ellen Terry we never saw till I went to school, as Irving’s acting in Shakespeare made my father angry. When he saw him play Romeo, he was heard to mutter the whole time: “Remove that man from the stage.”

Then there were children’s parties. Strangely enough, I only remember one of these, so I don’t expect I enjoyed them. But I remember a children’s garden party at Marlborough House, and the exquisite beauty, the grace, and the fairy-tale-like welcome of the Princess of Wales.

Two of the great days for the children in London were Valentine’s Day, on the eve of which we each of us sent the whole of the rest of the family Valentines, cushioned and scented Valentines with silken fringes; and the 1st of April, when Susan was always made an April fool, the best one being one of Chérie’s, who sent her to look in the schoolroom for Les Mémoires de Jonas dans la baleine. She searched conscientiously, but in vain, for this interesting book.

On one occasion, on the Prince of Wales’ wedding-day, in March, the whole family were invited to a children’s ball at Marlborough House. The girls’ frocks were a subject of daily discussion for weeks beforehand, and other governesses used to come and discuss the matter. They were white frocks, and when they were ready they were found to be a failure, for some reason, and they had to be made all over again at another dressmaker’s, called Mrs. Mason. It was on this occasion that Chérie made a memorable utterance and said: “Les pointes de Madame Mason sont incomparables,” as Elizabeth had for the first time risen to the dignity of a pointe (the end of the pointed “bodies” of the fashions of that day). It was doubtful whether the new frocks would be ready in time. There was a momentous discussion as to whether they were to wear black stockings or not. Finally the frocks arrived, and we were dressed and were all marshalled downstairs ready to start. My father in knee-breeches and myself in a black velvet suit, black velvet breeches, and a white waistcoat. I was told to be careful to remember to kiss the Princess of Wales’ hand.

I can just remember the ballroom, but none of the grown-up people—nothing, in fact, except a vague crowd of tulle skirts.