“I got up at six o’clock. Went down to the sea, and was delighted. After breakfast we drove into the town. I should have liked to be alone. Miss Ross came to see me. My letter on Wagner has been published, and created quite a sensation. Anton Seidl, the celebrated conductor and Wagnerian, had published a lengthy reply, in which he attacked me, but in quite a friendly tone. Miss Ross came to ask me to write an answer to Seidl’s reply. I set to work upon it, but was interrupted by X., who stayed an endless time, and told me all kinds of uninteresting musical gossip, which I had heard a hundred times before. The next to come was the correspondent of a Philadelphia newspaper, who is one of my most fervent admirers. I had to speak English with him: I have made progress, and can say a few phrases very well. Wrote letters. Breakfasted alone in my hotel. Wandered through the Central Park. According to my promise, I went over to Z.’s to write a testimonial for the * * * pianofortes. Was this the object of all Z.’s attentions? All these presents, all this time and money spent on me, all these unaccountable kindnesses, were these intended as a premium for a future puff? I proposed that Z. himself should write the testimonial. He sat for a long time, but could not think of anything; so we put it off until our next meeting. Then I paid a call on Tretbar, Steinway’s representative, for whom I had a letter of introduction from Jurgenson. He had waited till now without calling upon me because he did not wish to make the first advances. I had purposely delayed my visit from similar motives. Home to pack. Shortly afterwards a messenger from Z. brought me the testimonial to sign. It read as follows: ‘I consider the * * * pianofortes without doubt the best in America.’ Now as I do not think so at all, but value some other makers’ far more highly, I declined to have my opinion expressed in this form. I told Z., that notwithstanding my deep gratitude to him, I could not tell a lie. The reporter from the Herald came to see me—a very interesting man. Drove to Hyde’s. I wish I could find words to describe all the charm and originality of this interesting couple. Hyde greeted me with these words: ‘Kak vasche sdorovie? sidite poschaljust.’[169] Then he laughed like a lunatic, and his wife and I joined in. He had bought a guide to Russian conversation, and learnt a few phrases as a surprise to me. Mrs. Hyde immediately invited me to smoke a cigarette in her drawing-room—the climax of hospitality in America. After the cigarette we went to dinner. The table was most exquisitely decorated with flowers; everyone received a bouquet. Then, quite unexpectedly, Hyde became very solemn, closed his eyes and said the Lord’s Prayer. I did the same as the others: lowered my eyes and gazed on the ground. Then began an endlessly long dinner.... At ten o’clock I withdrew. At home a messenger from Knabe was waiting for me. We drank a glass of beer together, took my trunk, and went down town. We went over the Hudson in the steam-ferry, and finally reached the station. Knabe’s messenger (without whose help I should certainly have been lost) engaged a comfortable coupé for me; the friendly negro made the bed, I threw myself on it just as I was, for I really had not the strength to undress, and sank at once into a deep sleep. I slept soundly, but not for long. The negro woke me an hour before my arrival at Baltimore.
“Baltimore, May 3rd (15th).
“As usual, I was received at the hotel with cool contempt. Sitting alone in my room, I suddenly felt so unhappy, chiefly because everyone around me speaks only English. I slept a little. Then I went into a restaurant for breakfast, and was quite annoyed because the waiter (a negro) would not understand that I wished for tea and bread-and-butter only. I had to go to the desk, where they did not understand me any better. At last a gentleman knowing a little German kindly came to my help. I had hardly sat down when Knabe, a stout man, came in. Very shortly after, Adèle Aus-der-Ohe and her sister joined us, too. I was very glad to see them, for they seem like connections, at least as regards music. We went to the rehearsal together. This was held on the stage of the Lyceum Theatre. The orchestra was small, only four first violins, but not bad. But the Third Suite was not to be thought of. It was decided to put the Serenade for strings in its place. The orchestra did not know this work. The conductor had not even played it through, although Reno had promised that this should be done. The Concerto with Adèle Aus-der-Ohe went very smoothly, but the Serenade needs many rehearsals. The orchestra was impatient. The young leader behaved in rather a tactless way, and made it too clearly evident that he thought it time to stop. It is true—this unhappy touring orchestra must be wearied by their constant travelling. After the rehearsal I went home with Adèle Aus-der-Ohe, dressed, and went immediately to the concert. I conducted in my frock-coat. Happily everything went very well, but there was little enthusiasm in comparison with New York. After the concert we both drove home to change. Half an hour later Knabe called for us. His hospitality is on the same colossal scale as his figure. This beardless giant had arranged a festivity in my honour at his own house. I found a number of people there. The dinner was endlessly long, but very tasteful and good, as were also the wines with which Knabe kept filling up our glasses. During the second half of the dinner I felt quite worn out. A terrible hatred of everything seemed to come over me, especially of my two neighbours. After dinner I conversed a little with everyone, and smoked and drank ceaselessly. At half-past twelve Knabe brought me home, and also the sisters Aus-der-Ohe.
“Washington, 4th (16th).
“I woke early, breakfasted downstairs, wrote my diary, and waited, rather in fear and trembling, for Knabe, who wanted to show me the sights of the town. At last he came and, together with the sisters Aus-der-Ohe, we drove round Baltimore. Weather bad and inclined to rain. Baltimore is a pretty, clean town. Then the good-natured giant helped me to pack my box, invited Aus-der-Ohe and myself to a champagne lunch, and finally put me in the carriage that was to take me to my destination. He himself was travelling to Philadelphia, while I was going to Washington. The journey lasted about three-quarters of an hour. I was met by Botkin, who accompanied me to the hotel, where a room was engaged for me. This was delightfully comfortable, and at the same time tastefully and simply furnished. I declined to receive Rennen, begged Botkin to call for me before the dinner, took a bath, and hurried into my dress clothes. The dinner was given in the Metropolitan Club, of which Botkin and his colleagues are members. The dinner was very gay, and I was so delighted to talk Russian once more, although this happiness was a little dimmed by the sad fact that my ‘s,’ ‘sch,’ ‘tsch,’ are beginning to sound rather indistinct from age. During the dinner we heard, first by telegram and then through the telephone, that the Ambassador Struve had returned from a journey to New York solely on my account. At ten o’clock we all repaired to the Embassy, where Botkin had arranged a musical evening. About a hundred persons were invited. The Ambassador also arrived, an old man, very cordial and also interesting. The company at the Embassy belonged principally to the diplomatic circle. There were ambassadors with their wives and daughters, and personages belonging to the highest class of the diplomatic service. Most of the ladies spoke French, so things were not so difficult for me. The programme consisted of my Trio and a Quartet by Brahms. Hausen, the Secretary to our Embassy, was at the piano, and he proved quite a respectable pianist. My Trio he played decidedly well. The violinist was only middling. I was introduced to everyone. After the music there was an excellent cold supper. When most of the guests had left, ten of us (the Belgian Ambassador and the Secretaries to the Swedish and Austrian Embassies, besides the Russians) sat for some time longer at a large round table, before an excellent flagon. Struve enjoys a glass of wine. He gave me the impression of a broken and unhappy man who finds it a consolation. It was three o’clock before I went home, accompanied by Botkin and Hausen.
“May 5th (17th).
“Awoke with pleasant memories of yesterday. I always feel well in Russian society when I am not obliged to speak a foreign tongue. At twelve o’clock Botkin called for me to lunch with the Ambassador, Struve. Afterwards I went with Botkin and Hausen to see the sights of Washington.
“Philadelphia, May 6th (18th).
“I reached Philadelphia at three o’clock. Breakfasted downstairs. A very importunate Jew from Odessa called and got some money out of me. Went for a walk. The concert at eight p.m. The enormous theatre was filled to overflowing. After the concert, according to long-standing promise, I went to the club. The return journey to New York was very wearisome.
“May 7th (19th).