London,
July 25, 1887.

We have had a nice outing, Dear, thanks to the Naval Review; two such beautiful interesting days. I am burned brown as a berry, but, as the season is over, that is of no consequence, and I shall have plenty of time at Bourneville to bleach. We started Saturday at 9.30 for Portsmouth with the Florians, Waru, and R., Naval Attaché, in a special train. The harbour looked so pretty as we came in sight of it. Every description of vessel (even the "Victory," Nelson's old ship, now a training ship), and all sorts of ironclads, big steamers, yachts, and the smallest sort of pleasure-boat, dressed with flags. We went at once on board the "Helicon," a small despatch boat, especially destined to the Corps Diplomatique and distinguished strangers. There were about 150 people on board, all colleagues, also the Arch Duke Regnier of Austria, and the two young sons of the Duc d'Aoste with their suites. Directly after us came two great English transports painted white, one for the Lords, and one for the Commons, and all around us a fleet of ordinary rowing-boats and barges filled with people—quantities of women and children. We steamed slowly across the Solent to Osborne to meet the Queen, and passed close to the great ironclads, which looked monsters, and formidable ones. We had a handsome substantial lunch on board, to which we all did honour. There were not many foreign ships. Our two looked very well and were much admired, an old frigate, the "Iphigénie," now a training ship, with the midshipmen on board, and the "Élan," a pretty little despatch boat. There were only two other foreign boats: a German and a Dutchman. The Italian ships put into Spithead, and then went off to Dartmouth, no one knows why exactly. Some say they were not satisfied with their place (they arrived after the French ships, and would have been decidedly farther off, and behind ours), others that they were not in good condition, not smart enough; however, they were not there and the Italian Princesses who had expected to sleep on board, and meet their brother who is on one of the ships, were much disgusted. As soon as the "Osborne," with the Queen, the Prince of Wales, and the King of Greece (we didn't understand the Greek flag at first, as we didn't know the King was on board), had passed, we followed and went down the line. It was a beautiful sight, and England could certainly be proud of her great ironclads filling the harbour, and showing her strength as a naval power. We went slowly, and it was amusing to hear the criticisms and appreciations of all the assembled foreigners on the show—however, I suppose all ironclads now are pretty much alike, only England happens to have three times as many as any of the rest of us. About 6 o'clock there was a halt. We of course had tea on deck, and suddenly we saw quantities of steam launches coming across the water in all directions. They looked like enormous white birds in the distance. They were almost all white, low in the water, and going very fast. The captains of all the ships had been called on board the Queen's yacht to be received by her. This made a long delay, and our colleagues were getting impatient, as they foresaw that they would be very late in getting back to London. We took that opportunity to ask the Captain of the "Helicon" to bear down toward the "Iphigénie," as we were to dine and sleep on board. We changed our course a little, and in about 10 minutes two very smart French boats ran alongside, coming up in grand style. The three English officers stood on the bridge and helped us off, and I must say it was all done admirably—not the slightest confusion, and we were a big party. Our fellow-passengers decidedly envied us. The Bylandts (Dutch Minister) were much put out. They had asked the Captain of their ship to let them dine and sleep on board, but he refused absolutely; said he had just arrived from a long cruise, and was not prepared to receive anyone. We got to the "Iphigénie" in about 15 minutes. The Commandant, Noccomore, was standing on the bridge. W. got out first, then T., and as soon as W. put his foot on the deck, where all the sailors, officers, and midshipmen were drawn up, there was a salute of drums and clarions (they couldn't give the regular salute of guns to the Ambassador, as, when the Queen is in the harbour, no one else can be saluted). The Commandant gave me his arm, and we went at once to his quarters (or rather "carré," as they say on board ship). We passed through a fine room or hall, the entire width of the frigate, where a good-sized dinner-table was ready. The Commandant asked when we would dine; we said in a "quart d'heure," just the time to wash our faces, which were black with smoke and red with sun, and he showed W. and me our quarters (his of course), and most comfortable. The cabin large, with a wardrobe, and a large "cabinet de toilette," with English wash-stand, bath-room, etc. For one person it was perfectly roomy. Of course when a second bed was put in the "cabinet de toilette" it was a little small. Mmes. de Florian and Heurtel had the second officer's cabin, and the men hammocks in some part of the ship.

The dinner was good and handsome. I had the "Aumônier" on the other side of me. He was intelligent, ready to talk about anything, and the dinner was very agreeable. Plenty of talk. W. talked a great deal, and the naval officers were interesting, as they always are. They have seen so much, and had such varied experiences. After dinner we had coffee in the Commandant's salon, and then went on deck, where we spent a delightful evening. The sea was perfectly calm, not a ripple, and lights everywhere—all the ships illuminated and sending off fireworks at intervals. We could hardly see our own, but the little "Élan" looked very smart and natty. We broke up about 11, and I don't know when I have enjoyed anything so much as that perfectly quiet summer night on the water; such a rest after the long day, and early start from London. We promised to be ready at a quarter to 10 for Mass, and the visit of the ship. You would have been amused to see how well Drejet did my service (they asked me if I could do without my maid for one night, as they really didn't know what to do with her). He told Adelaïde he could do everything for me except my hair, and tying my sash, which seemed to be a serious performance to him, and really all my dressing things were put out and a "saut de lit" disposed gracefully over the back of a chair just as A. always did. I supposed she coached him. I was stirring early enough the next morning, but I couldn't tie my sash either, so I wandered out on the deck to have my early tea, and Countess de Florian helped me to finish my toilette. We went all over the ship before Mass. The midshipmen's quarters are small, but of course beautifully kept, and the young men all looked as smiling and prosperous as possible, and were much pleased at the Ambassador's visit. At 10 o'clock we assembled on deck for Mass. Part of the deck was covered in with flags, and as a compliment to my nationality they had put the "Stars and Stripes" immediately over my head. I was much pleased, as it is a good many years since I have sat under the old flag. I suppose I can't say my flag any more, but I feel it all the same. There were three armchairs directly in front of the altar—two big ones for W. and me and a smaller one between for the Commandant.34 As soon as we were seated the Abbé came, made a bow to W. and me, and began his Mass. It was very impressive—so still, not a sound except the little waves beating against the side of the ship, and the word of command for the marines at the raising of the Host, when there was a fine salute of drums and bugles. We had a very gay breakfast, the Captain of the "Élan" coming to join us, and at 1 o'clock we left our hospitable frigate for the "Élan" which was going to cruise about with us all the afternoon. They certainly received us most hospitably and charmingly; I shall often think of those quiet hours on the deck, and the Mass this morning, which impressed me very much. We had a lovely afternoon on the "Élan," practically doing the Review over again, and going close up to the big ironclads, such ugly, heavy masses as they seem when one is near them. We crossed over to Cowes, went alongside of the Prince of Wales' yacht, but didn't stop. The captain gave us an interesting account of their reception on the "Osborne." It seems there was some mistake in the orders brought by the Aide-de-Camp of the Admiral of the Fleet. The Commandant of the "Iphigénie" thought he could take several officers with him, and when he appeared on the "Osborne" with 5 or 6 officers, the Admiral was much embarrassed, and didn't know what to do, as the Queen intended to receive only the Commandants. However the Prince of Wales, with his never-failing tact, said he would put it all right, and in a few moments they were told that the Queen would be very pleased to receive all the French officers. They told us they saw a lady in deep mourning, with perfectly white hair, standing behind the Queen, who looked so earnestly at the French uniforms, and was agitated when they passed; they only realised afterward that it was the Empress.[9] I wonder if I shall ever see her, I would like to so much. We dined on board, anchored just off Portsmouth, and got back to London about 11 o'clock, having enjoyed our two days immensely. It was a beautiful ending to the Jubilee, and a beautiful sight. The "cadre" was so lovely for all those big ships. All the line of the Isle of Wight is so pretty, beautifully green, and the Solent covered with boats of all descriptions, and plenty of room for all. Some of the small row-boats seemed dangerously near the big steamers, but nothing ever happened. When I get back to Bourneville and take up my quiet life in the woods, these last days will seem a sort of fairy-tale.

Comtesse de Florian
From a photograph by Walery, London.

London, July 29, 1887.

We are starting to-morrow. I had a farewell ride this morning, hardly anyone in the Row, Dandy going beautifully (you know he is the chestnut I called after the famous horse in one of Charlie's stories), except a good kick from time to time, which is a bore, not only for me (I lost my hat the other day), but for the neighbours. We dined at Lord A.'s last night, and he gave us a funny account of his experience on the House of Lords boat. To begin with he had much difficulty in getting tickets, and could get none for his daughters, only himself and Lady A. (and he is Hereditary Lord Chamberlain), and when he finally did get on the boat he found it crowded with all sorts of unknown people, very few peers, and very little food. They were faint with hunger before the end of the day, so I told him about our handsome dinner and hospitable reception on our frigate. Bylandt then told us how badly they fared. They cruised about for some time in the "Helicon" after we got off, then finally the passengers begged to be landed. They were at last deposited at Portsmouth, and then made a rush for the buffet in the railway station, but that had been completely "devalisé," there wasn't a crumb, not even a dry biscuit. Then they were conducted with much pomp to reserved carriages which were locked, and there they remained for over an hour, seeing various trains start, and at last arrived in London at one o'clock in the morning. Poor Bylandt was much disgusted. We thought a little of asking to keep the "Élan" for a week, and of doing the Cowes week, but W. thought on the whole it would be close quarters, and was not very keen about it. I should have liked it. We had all the staff who remain to dine to-night. London is curiously empty—all the chairs being taken away from the Park, which gives it a decided air of "fin de saison."

To G. K. S.

Albert Gate House,
March 2, 1888.