I have narrated elsewhere my early experiences at Berlin and Petrograd.  In every capital the Diplomatists must always be, in a sense, sojourners in a strange land, and many of them who find a difficulty in amalgamating with the people of the country must always be thrown to a great extent on their own resources.  It is probably for this reason that theatricals were so popular amongst the Diplomats in Petrograd, the plays being naturally always acted in French.

Here I felt more or less at home.  My grandmother, the Duchess of Bedford, was passionately fond of acting, and in my grandfather’s time, one room at Woburn Abbey was permanently fitted up as a theatre.  Here, every winter during my mother’s girlhood, there was a succession of performances in which she, her mother and brothers and sisters all took part, the Russell family having a natural gift for acting.  Probably the very name of Charles Matthews is unfamiliar to the present generations, so it is sufficient to say that he was the light comedian of the early nineteenth century.  The Garrick Club possesses a fine collection of portraits of Charles Matthews in some of his most popular parts.  Charles Matthews acted regularly with the Russell family at Woburn, my mother playing the lead.  I have a large collection of Woburn Abbey play-bills, from 1831-1839, all printed on white satin, and some of the pieces they put on were quite ambitious ones.  My mother had a very sweet singing voice, which she retained till late in life; indeed a tiny thread of voice remained until her ninety-third year, with a faint remnant of its old sweetness still clinging to it.  After her marriage, her love of theatricals still persisted, so we were often having performances at home, as my brothers and sisters shared her tastes.  I made my first appearance on the stage at the age of seven, and I can still remember most of my lines.

At Petrograd, in the French theatricals, I was always cast for old men, and I must have played countless fathers, uncles, generals, and family lawyers.  As unmarried girls took part in these performances, the French pieces had to be considerably “bowdlerized,” but they still remained as excruciatingly funny as only French pieces can be.

If I may be permitted a rather lengthy digression, “bowdlerised” derives its name from Thomas Bowdler, who in 1818 published an expurgated edition of Shakespeare.  It would be rather interesting to make a list of words which have passed into common parlance but which were originally derived from some peculiarity of the person whose surname they perpetuate.  A few occur to me.  In addition to “bowdlerise,” there is “sandwich.”  As is well known, this compact form of nourishment derives its name from John, fourth Earl of Sandwich, who lived between 1718-1792.  Lord Sandwich was a confirmed gambler, and such was his anxiety to lose still more money, and to impoverish further himself, his family, and his descendants, that he grudged the time necessary