Wednesday, 31st.
We have rather a worrying letter from Henrietta this morning saying their house in Paris was watched by the police, having been threatened by the dynamiters on account of a judge who lives in the house. All the locataires are leaving, and she is bothered, and wants to know what she must do with Francis (who always goes to her Thursday and Sunday). I want W. to write to the Préfet de Police to ask for an extra man, but he doesn't seem to attach importance to it—says no harm ever comes when a thing is announced beforehand. I can't help feeling uncomfortable.
To G. K. S.
Albert Gate,
April 3, 1892.
It is rather nice to-day. After breakfast we drove down to Battersea Park, not a very fashionable resort, and walked about along the river, which is always alive—boats, barges, steamers, children in battered old scows that look as if they would break in two on the smallest provocation, and loungers of all kinds, some fishing, most doing nothing and keeping up a running fire of chaff and criticisms. The river life plays a great part in London—the Thames is such a thoroughfare all about London, and a beautiful pleasure ground higher up by Maidenhead, Clieveden, etc. We dined this evening at Lady Mary Lloyd's. She sang very well after dinner, and we went later to Lady Ashburton's, who has a beautiful house crammed with pictures and curios of all kinds. She had a concert of "old music" with old instruments—spinet, viola, viol d'amour, etc. It was interesting in its way as a souvenir, but sounded weak and tinkly. In these days of great orchestras no one would listen to it.
Easter Tuesday, April 19, 1892.
I am delighted to have Henrietta and Francis, the boy's first holidays since he has been in Paris, and he is enjoying himself extremely. He rides with his father every morning, and goes about all day with his friends. We are busy getting up a "toy symphony"—Mlle. Levisohn, Francis's piano mistress, organises it. Francis has the piano, Comte Vinci, our Roman friend (who plays extremely well), is first violin; a little boy, a friend of Mlle. Levisohn's, the 2nd, and the minor instruments are distributed among all the children, Edwardes, Lawrence, Billes, Deichmann, etc. We gave young Bille, son of the Danish Minister, the drum—but the unfortunate boy could do nothing with it, and his mother said he must have some lessons. I applied to Pontavice (our Military Attaché), who said he was sure one of his friends, an officer in the Guards, would arrange it for me, so accordingly there appeared one morning a gentleman (Mr. Lloyd, I think) who said his friend, Comte de Pontavice, had told him that I wished to have some lessons on the drum, and that the drum-major of the regiment was quite at my service. I hastily explained that the lessons were not for me, but for a young friend who was to play that instrument in a toy symphony. He didn't seem at all surprised at my wishing to learn to play the drum, and yet I can't help thinking that he hadn't often been applied to for lessons on the drum for an Ambassadress. He promised to send his man to the Danish Legation, and Mdme. de Bille told me that all the household was upset, and the maids distracted by the magnificent drum-major who came three or four times, and retired to a sort of basement, where he and the boy rattled away on the drum. If I had ever imagined what an undertaking it was, I never should have agreed to the performance. The principal instruments, piano and violins, were all right, but all the small ones, quails, nightingales, and cuckoos (oh, the cuckoos!) were something awful. The children distracted (sometimes they had 25 measures to count), the mammas and governesses equally so, and the impartial assistants (who had no children taking part) remarking to me with absolute frankness that it was the most awful noise they had ever heard. Comte Vinci, first violin, was a tower of strength, and kept them all in order. It is awfully good of him to come and play with all those children.
Friday, April 22, 1892.
I will write you about the performance at once, as I am too tired to do anything else, and have dined quietly at home. We had a last répétition this morning—Mlle. Levisohn directing from a small platform covered with red cloth. For the first time I thought it would go—really almost all the instruments were in tune and in time. Francis had been giving private rehearsals all the morning to Wilhelm Deichmann (trumpet) and the child, I forget which one, that had the triangle. The performance began at 4, and the orchestra was most effective. All the young ladies were in white and the men in dress clothes and white boutonnières. It was killing to see all eyes fixed upon Mlle. Levisohn as she stood on her platform with her baton raised. It really went extremely well. Pfeffer happened in, and said he had never heard the Romberg Symphony better given. After the music was over Francis and Hilda Deichmann played a little comedy, "La Souris," really very well—Mdme. Thénard had coached them both. They weren't at all shy, and looked funny perched on chairs, standing, afraid of an imaginary mouse. They wound up with a dance, Gevers leading a most spirited cotillon. Francis danced with Nannie, who looked very pretty. He was very proud of his American cousin. Mlle. Levisohn had many compliments, and I think she was pleased. She certainly took no end of trouble.
Albert Gate,
Thursday, April 28th.