Opening…

Preface

The Author of this work begs to inform his readers that his principal object in producing his “Culinary Campaign” is to perpetuate the successful efforts made by him to improve the dieting of the Hospitals of the British army in the East, as well as the soldiers’ rations in the Camp before Sebastopol.

The literary portion the Author has dished up to the best of his ability; and if any of his readers do not relish its historical contents, he trusts that the many new and valuable receipts, applicable to the Army, Navy, Military and Civil Institutions, and the public in general, will make up in succulence for any literary deficiencies that may be found in its pages.

At the same time, the Author takes this opportunity of publicly returning his most grateful thanks to the late authorities at the seat of war for their universal courtesy, friendship, and great assistance, without which success would have been an impossibility.

INTRODUCTION.--A SUPPER AT THE “ALBION,” AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 1

I. BY RAIL AND COACH TO VIRGINIA WATER 13

II. A SUMMONS TO STAFFORD HOUSE 29

III. OFF TO THE WAR 36

IV. DELIGHTS OF TRAVEL 49

V. COMFORT ON SHORE AND PENANCE AT SEA 57

VI. THE LAND OF THE MOSLEM 70

VII. A BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF CONSTANTINOPLE FROM PERA 83

VIII. FIRST VIEW OF THE SCENE OF ACTION 91

IX. COMMENCEMENT OF THE CULINARY CAMPAIGN 101

X. A TOUR ROUND THE KITCHENS 111

XI. FIRST OPERATIONS 124

XII. THE SCUTARI MISSION ACCOMPLISHED 134

XIII. DEPARTURE FOR THE CRIMEA 147

XIV. COMMENCEMENT OF MY CAMPAIGN IN THE CRIMEA 160

XV. THE ENGLISH AND TURKISH COMMANDERS-IN-CHIEF 180

XVI. A NEW ENEMY 191

XVII. RECEPTION AT ENGLISH AND FRENCH HEAD-QUARTERS 200

XVIII. A UNIVERSAL CALAMITY 213

XIX. HAPS AND MISHAPS IN CAMP 227

XX. EXPEDITIONS ON HORSE AND ON FOOT 239

XXI. MATTERS GRAVE AND GAY 250

XXII. PREPARATIONS FOR ANOTHER TRIP 266

XXIII. OUR STEAM VOYAGE IN THE “LONDON” 289

XXIV. THREE WEEKS AT SCUTARI 297

XXV. FESTIVITIES AT SCUTARI AND VISITS TO FRENCH HOSPITALS 315

XXVI. MY SECOND TRIP TO THE CRIMEA 325

XXVII. CAMP LIFE AT HEAD-QUARTERS 334

XXVIII. MY GREAT FIELD-DAY 350

XXIX. THE EIGHTH OF SEPTEMBER 364

XXX. FALL OF THE DOOMED CITY 375

XXXI. ILLNESS AND CHANGE OF SCENE 385

XXXII. CAMP OF THE FOURTH DIVISION 400

XXXIII. HOSTILITIES AT TABLE 415

XXXIV. CRIMEAN FESTIVITIES 433

XXXV. LAST DAYS OF BRITISH OCCUPATION OF THE CRIMEA 459

XXXVI. LAST SCENE OF OUR STRANGE EVENTFUL HISTORY 484

ADDENDA 513

ERRATA.

In page 6, for “Little Jack,” read “Little Ben.”

Page 32, line 12, for “I think,” read “She thinks.”

A CULINARY CAMPAIGN

BY

A. SOYER

ILLUSTRATED BY H. G. HINE.

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Introduction

A SUPPER AT THE “ALBION,” AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

Old Drury--Juvenile mirth--A sudden arrest--An invitation--No excuse--Getting home--Mind your pockets--A trip to the “Wellington”--An intelligent waiter--Reading the news--A sudden inspiration--Letter to the Times--The stupid waiter again--Little Jack--Supper fare--Receipts--Tough kidneys--How to cook them--Kidneys à la Roberto Diavolo--Kidneys à la brochette--New bill of fare for London Suppers.

“Hurrah! hurrah! bravo! bravo!” For a few minutes rounds of applause and shouts of laughter from the juveniles were heard and loudly re-echoed throughout the vast cupola of Old Drury, sending home the delighted spectators, in fits of sneezing and coughing, through a variegated atmosphere. Sir Henry W----, turning to me, exclaimed, “Hallo, Mr. Soyer, the pantomime is over early this evening!” and looking at his watch, continued, “Why, it is only half-past eleven o’clock.”

“Yes, Sir Henry; but quite late enough for children, who after this time begin to mingle gaping with laughter.”

“True enough,” replied Sir Henry; “it is painful to see those dear cherubs kept at the theatre till midnight, or even later. Have you been long here?”

“No,” I replied, “only a few minutes; just time enough to witness the grand finale, and to hear the screaming and laughter of the children, which to me is always very amusing.”

“Very true, very true; I am of your opinion, and never tire of children’s mirth.”

In a few minutes the theatre was nearly emptied of spectators, but still full of smoke. Considering myself that evening as free as a butterfly on a spring morning, though unable, like that light-hearted insect, to flit from flower to flower, I was trying to escape, with the swiftness of an eel, down the gigantic and crowded staircase, hoping to get off unobserved, as I had to start early in the morning for the country, when suddenly a friendly hand pressed me forcibly by the arm. The owner of the same cried, “Stop! stop! my friend; I have been hunting all over the theatre for you.” I at once recognised an old Devonshire acquaintance, whom I was indeed much pleased to see, having received a most kind reception from him at my last visit to that delightful county--so justly named the garden of England.

“Well, my dear sir,” said he, “myself and several acquaintances of yours are here for a few days, and have ordered a supper this evening at the ‘Albion.’ We heard you were at Drury Lane, and I have come to ask you to join us.”

“I must say it is very kind of you, Mr. Turner; but you must excuse me, as I am going as far as St. James’s-street, by appointment; besides, I leave for the country early to-morrow morning. But I shall be happy to spend to-morrow evening with you and your friends; therefore, I beg you will apologise for me.”

“To-morrow very likely we shall be off again; we only came for a couple of days, to breathe the London air, and then return.”

“I beg your pardon--you mean London fog, not air.”

“Why, yes, fog should be the word; but for all that, I love London in any season; so no excuse--I shall not leave you; you must join us, or your friend the squire will be greatly disappointed. He came from the Great Western Hotel this evening on purpose to see you.”

Finding it almost impossible to get out of it, and my friend having promised we should break up early, I accepted, saying, “You must allow me to go as far as the ‘Wellington,’ as I have an appointment there; I will be back in about half-an-hour.”

My incredulous country friend would not grant permission till I had assured him that I would faithfully keep my promise, and return.

This dialogue took place in the entrance of the vestibule, where a number of ladies and children were waiting--some for their carriages and broughams, others for those public inconveniences called cabs. This bevy of beauty and group of children, the pride of young England, seemed to interest my provincial friend so much, that I had some trouble to get him out. It was then nearly twelve o’clock. The front steps were also crowded; the weather was chilly and damp; a thick yellowish fog, properly mixed with a good portion of soot, formed a shower of black pearls, which, gracefully descending through the murky air, alighted, without asking permission, upon the rosy cheeks of unveiled fair dames, spotting their visages, if not à la Pompadour or à la Watteau, at least à la Hogarth. A few steps lower we entered a dense crowd--a most unpicturesque miscellany of individuals, unclassically called, the London mob. “Mind your pockets,” said I to my country friend.

“By Jove, it’s too late,” said he, feeling in his pocket--“my handkerchief is gone!”

“Is that all?” I inquired.

“Well, let me see,” he observed, feeling again: “yes, thank God! my watch and purse are quite safe.”

“Ah,” I continued, laughing, “the old adage which prompts us to thank God for all things is quite correct; for you are actually thanking Him for the loss of your handkerchief.”

“Not at all,” he replied; “I was thanking Him for the safety of my watch and purse.” After a hearty laugh we parted, he going to the “Albion,” and I to the “Wellington.”

On my arrival there, I found that my friend had been and was gone. My intelligent cabby soon brought me back through the dense atmosphere to that far-famed temple of Comus, at which crowds of celebrities meet nightly--some to restore themselves internally, others to sharpen their wits at that tantalising abode of good cheer. Upon entering, I inquired of a waiter, a stranger to me, if he could inform me where my six friends intended to sup.

“Yes, sir, directly.” Speaking down the trumpet: “Below! a Welsh rabbit and fresh toast--two kidneys underdone--scalloped oyster--a chop--two taters! Look sharp below!” To the barmaid: “Two stouts, miss--one pale--four brandies hot, two without--one whisky--three gin--pint sherry--bottle of port!”

“What an intelligent waiter!” thought I, “to have so good a memory.” Having waited till he had given his orders, I again said, “Pray, my fine fellow, in which room are my friends going to sup? They have a private room, no doubt?”

“Yes, sir, a private room for two.”

“No, not for two--for six.”

“Oh! I don’t mean that, sir: I want a rump-steak for two,” said he; “stewed tripe for one--three grogs--bottle pale Bass.” And off he went to the coffee-room.

“Plague upon the fellow!” said I to myself.

As the barmaid could not give me any information upon the subject, and I perceived through a half-opened door on the right-hand side of the bar a table laid for six, I went in, making sure it was for my friends, and that they had not yet arrived. Indeed, I had myself returned from my appointment much sooner than I had expected. I sat down, and was reading the evening paper, when a waiter came in. “After you with the paper, sir.”

“I have done; you may take it.”

“There’s the Times, sir, if you have not seen it.”

“No, I have not; let me have a look at it.” After reading one of the leaders, my attention was drawn to a long article written by the Crimean correspondent of that journal. When I had read it carefully a second time, a few minutes’ reflection on my part enabled me to collect my ideas, and established in my mind a certain assurance that I could, if allowed by Government, render service in the cooking of the food, the administration of the same, as well as the distribution of the provisions. These were matters in which I could detect, through the description of that eye-witness, the writer of the above-mentioned article, some change was much needed. I therefore wrote the following letter to the Times, it being then nearly one o’clock in the morning:--

THE HOSPITAL KITCHENS AT SCUTARI.

To the Editor of the Times.

SIR,--After carefully perusing the letter of your correspondent, dated Scutari, in your impression of Wednesday last, I perceive that, although the kitchen under the superintendence of Miss Nightingale affords so much relief, the system of management at the large one in the Barrack-hospital is far from being perfect. I propose offering my services gratuitously, and proceeding direct to Scutari, at my own personal expense, to regulate that important department, if the Government will honour me with their confidence, and grant me the full power of acting according to my knowledge and experience in such matters.

I have the honour to remain, Sir, Your obedient servant, A. SOYER.

Feb. 2, 1855.

After despatching this letter, I again inquired about my friends and my anticipated supper, which for some time had escaped my memory. “Did you ring, sir?”

“No, I did not, sir, but the bell has;” recognising my stupid waiter.

“Oh, sir! are you here?”

“Of course I am; don’t you see me?”

“Well, sir, your friends have had supper; they inquired everywhere for you; I told them you could not wait, as you had two ladies to see home as far as Brompton.”

“You foolish fellow! I never spoke to you about ladies, Brompton, or any such thing; I merely asked you where my friends were to sup; to which you replied, ‘Rump-steak for two, tripe for one, two taters, pat of butter, one pale Bass, and three kidneys for a gentleman, underdone.’”

“No more you did, sir. It was number three who told me to say so; not you, sir; you’re quite right, sir!”

“I am sure I am right; but as for you, your head is quite wrong!”

“Well, I assure you, sir, we have so much to do at times, we hardly know what we are about.”

“I don’t think you do,” said I, sharply.

“But I tell you what, sir, they are there still, and you had better go to them.”

“No, it is too late now; give them this note from me when they go out; and here is sixpence for yourself, for through your mistake you have after all rendered me a service. I did not wish to come here this evening, as I have an early engagement for to-morrow, so I will have a bit of supper and go home.”

“Well, do, sir; I thank you, and am very glad I have given you satisfaction at last.”

“Send Little Jack here; he knows what I like for supper.”

“Hallo, Mr. Soyer, everybody in the coffee-room has been inquiring after you this evening,” said Little Jack upon entering.

“I know; but that foolish waiter who was here just now made such a mull of everything, that he quite upset our party; I could not get any answer from him, so I made sure this table was laid out for us, and here I stuck.”

“No, sir, your friends supped in the coffee-room, and are still there, if you like to have your supper near them.”

“No, no; give me what you like here.”

“What shall it be, sir? oysters, broiled kidneys, chops, steaks, stewed tripe, broiled bones?”

“Have you nothing else?”

“Yes, sir, grilled fowl and scalloped oysters; only they will take some time preparing.”

“Well, give me scalloped oysters, and my favourite Welsh rare-bit, made in my style--you know; a pint of port wine, and fresh toast for the rare-bit.”

“Yes, sir; the cook knows--I’ll tell him it is for you.”

“But how is it you never vary your supper bill of fare? it is very scanty of choice for such a large tavern as this. I do not mean to complain, but give a little change now and then, by introducing a few new dishes.”

“Ah! you’re right, sir; it would please the customers, and be much better for us waiters, to have something new to offer; but, bless you, sir! I have been many years in this place, and it was always the same; and no doubt will remain so for as long again, unless a gentleman like you takes it in hand--they would then attend to it; but, of course, you have something else to do.”

“So I have; yet I don’t see why, in my next book upon cookery, I should not devote a few pages to the London suppers. I intend doing so, and, when published, I shall be happy to present you with a copy.”

“That will be first-rate, sir; I thank you, and wont I recommend the new dishes à la Soyer, as some of our customers call them!”

“Well, my man, upon second thoughts, as you seem so anxious about it, and I am not going to join my friends, give me a pen and ink, and while supper is preparing, I will write a few practical receipts, which can be easily introduced without interfering with your duty or the kitchen; they will, no doubt, prove agreeable to your customers, who are in general a class of bon vivants, fond of good things as well as of variety in the bill of fare.”

“Here is the pen, paper, and ink, sir.”

“Thank you; come again in about twenty minutes, and they shall be ready; or, if you are not in a hurry, stay.”

“No, sir, I am not; our supper business is over.”

“Well, now listen: first, I do not intend to criticise your bill of fare, which is as much varied, if not more so, than that offered at other large taverns, and it is quite as well executed. Now, respecting kidneys--you consume a large quantity of them?”

“So we do, sir.”

“Then I will give you a receipt or two for dressing them:--

No. 1.--Take two kidneys, split them lengthways as close to the sinew as possible without parting them; remove the thin skin, lay them flat upon the table, and season rather highly with salt and pepper; then run them crossways upon a wooden, metal, or silver skewer, forcing the sinew upwards; this will prevent their curling up again while cooking. Next dip them in some well-beaten eggs, to which you have added about a table-spoonful of dissolved butter; or rub them over with a paste-brush, which will do it more equally; roll them in fine bread-crumbs, and slightly beat them on both sides with the flat of your knife to cause the ‘crumbs to stick to the kidneys. Put them upon the gridiron, over a sharp fire, at a proper distance; they will require from five to eight minutes doing, according to size.

For the uninitiated, the following plan is the best to ascertain when they are properly done. Press with the prongs of a fork or the point of the knife upon the thick part of the kidney; if done through, it will feel firm and elastic to the touch. When the kidneys are done, slip them off the skewer on to a hot dish, and place in each a piece of butter, à la maître d’hôtel, about the size of a small walnut; send to table, and by the time it reaches the guest, the butter will be half melted; quite so when the kidney is cut by the customer, who, by turning the pieces and blending the butter with the gravy, will make a rich sauce, and partake of a delicious as well as a wholesome dish.

“Partaking of overdone kidneys at night is the forerunner of the nightmare.”

“You’re right, sir; that it is,” said Little Jack; “for at times we have some left, and keep them warm for supper; and they get as tough as pieces of leather, when after eating three or four--and I am always very tired at night--I never can sleep. Now I think of it, the tough kidneys must be the cause; and if I do sleep, Mr. Soyer, I have such awful dreams that I feel more fatigued when I rise than when I go to bed.”

“Of course,” I replied, “I am well aware of that; they cannot digest; therefore, you see the importance of having them properly done.”

“Very much so indeed; I quite understand it now, and perceive that if they cannot at all times be done to perfection, underdone is much preferable to overdone. I perfectly understand you, sir; but you see we require such a quantity.”

“Well, I have only given you the receipt for two. I will now, if you like, give you the receipt for a hundred.”

“Do, sir; that will suit us better.”

“I suppose they are most in request for supper?”

“Indeed they are, sir.”

“Then, in the course of the day, the cook should prepare a hundred precisely as the first--viz., ready for cooking. They should be put upon skewers, two, three, or four in a row; so that, when called for, he has only to remove them from the larder to the gridiron. About two pounds of butter à la maître d’hôtel should be prepared and kept in a cool place to be ready when required. By following this plan, you could easily cook several hundred during the evening, if called for. Should any remain unsold, they will keep till the next day, and will only require rolling in the crumbs again previous to broiling.”

“I see, sir; it will save a great deal of time by having them prepared beforehand.”

“But suppose you had none prepared beforehand, a dozen can soon be got ready by an active cook. The addition of the dissolved butter to the eggs keeps the kidneys fresh and moist, and inserting them upon the skewer retains them flat, and they are cooked more regularly in half the time; while without the skewer they curl up, and are frequently underdone on one side and cooked too much on the other.”

“I plainly understand what you mean.”

“These details upon the same subject are perhaps tedious to you.”

“Not at all, sir; I see the importance of them.”

“Well, the other receipts will come quite plain and easy to you. To tell the truth, I have had those overdone kidneys upon my conscience for some time. Mind, I do not intend to erase the plain broiled kidneys from the supper bill of fare, for I am very fond of them when properly cooked.”

“They are very good; and many gentlemen will not have them any other way.”

“Well, I do not blame them, for they are both agreeable and nutritious that way; but here is another appetizing receipt, which we will call à la Roberto Diavolo.”

No. 2.--Put two plain kidneys upon a skewer, and with a paste-brush butter them over. Set them upon the gridiron as near the fire as possible, for they cannot be done too fast; turn them every minute, and when half done season with salt, pepper, and a small spoonful of cayenne; chop some gherkins and a little green chillies, if handy; or, instead of either, a table-spoonful of chopped picolilli with the liquor. Put these on a hot plate, with a tea-spoonful of lemon-juice and a pat of butter. Take up the kidneys, and slip them burning hot from the skewer to the plate; turn them round four or five times in the mixture, and serve immediately. A small piece of glaze added to the butter will prove a great addition. Three, four, or five minutes will do them, according to the size.

Kidneys à la brochette, Paris fashion.

The Parisian gourmet would not eat a kidney if it was not served upon the silver skewer; the only merit of which is, that they keep hot longer and look better than when the skewer is omitted; as they often shrink, especially if the sinew has not been properly divided in the splitting of them.

“As, no doubt, you have something to do, you had better leave me; I will write a few more receipts. Bring me my supper in a quarter of an hour, and they will be ready.”

“Very well, sir; I will give a look round and order your supper.”

To the minute Little Jack walked in with the scalloped oysters, which I must admit looked remarkably tempting. He handed me my supper, but upon reflection I did not hand him the receipts, only a list of their names, intending to put them into the cookery-book I had promised him, knowing well enough that it was not in his power to bring them out. He thanked me for my lecture on cookery, as he called it, and the following bill of fare. I paid my bill, and left.

New Bill of Fare for Tavern Suppers.

Rump-steak and fried potatoes; ditto with shalot, pimento, and anchovy butter. Relishing steak, fillet of beef, à la Parisienne; ditto à la Chateaubriand.

Mutton chops à la bouchère; ditto semi-provençale; ditto Marseilles fashion; ditto with relishing sauce.

Plain cutlets with fried potatoes, à la maître d’hôtel, à la Sultana, semi-provençale.

Lamb chops à la boulangère, à l’Américaine, à la printanière.

Pork chops with pimento butter, à la Tartare; ditto camp fashion.

Veal cutlets en papillote; with maître d’hôtel butter; with relishing butter; with fried potatoes.

Kidneys on toast, semi-curried; ditto with sherry or port; ditto with champagne. For kidneys à la maître d’hôtel, à la brochette, and à la Roberto Diavolo, see Receipts, page 10.

Stewed and curried tripe; ditto Lyonnaise fashion.

Lobsters au gratin in the shell; scalloped ditto; curried on toast; lobster cutlets; new salad, Tartar fashion; plain salad with anchovies; crabs au gratin in the shell; crab salad with eggs.

Grilled chicken and Sultana sauce; à la Roberto Diavolo, with relishing sauce; new broiled devil, Mayonnaise sauce; chicken, American fashion.

Stewed oysters on toast; ditto American fashion, au gratin; fried oysters.

Omelettes with fine herbs, mushrooms, sprue grass, ham, and parmesan; poached eggs with cream; ditto with maître-d’hôtel sauce; semi-curried, with ham or bacon.

Buttered eggs with mushrooms, sprue grass, ham with shalots, parsley, and chervil.

Mirrored eggs with tongue, ham, or bacon; curried eggs; ditto with onion sauce and tomato sauce.

Rarebit à la Soyer with sherry or champagne.

Fried potatoes in slices; ditto with maître-d’hôtel butter; ditto with Cayenne pepper.

Cold asparagus salad, while in season; new potato salad, German fashion; ditto, French and haricot beans.[1]

For receipts in Bill of Fare, see Addenda.

A Hansom cab was waiting at the door, so I jumped in. “Beg your pardon, sir, I am engaged,” said cabby; “but if you’re not going far, I think I shall have plenty of time to take you.”

“Do so, my man; I live close by, in Bloomsbury-street, Bedford-square. Here’s a shilling for you--go ahead, cabby.”

Pst! pst! and off we were. In a few minutes, thanks to the evaporation of the thick fog and its having left only a feeble skeleton of its former substance, I found myself at my street door, and was trying for some time to open it with the wrong key, all the while thinking to myself what an extraordinary and uncomfortable evening I had passed to return so late. Perceiving my mistake, I changed the key; opening and shutting the door violently, I rushed up stairs with the intention of booking that evening in my daily tablet as one of the most tedious and uncomfortable I had spent throughout the series of cheerful years granted to me by a Supreme Power. The fire was out, the supper divided between my two friends the Angola cats, the servants in bed, the gas turned off, and the lucifers, I believe, gone to their Mephistophelian domain.

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I. BY RAIL AND COACH TO VIRGINIA WATER

An early visit--Virginia Water--An eccentric friend--Rail v. coach--Humour of the road--The old coachman--The widow--Sally’s trouble--Another surprise--The “Wheatsheaf”--Beautiful scenery--Letter from the Duchess of Sutherland.

A most curious dream haunted my mind throughout the night, one of those indescribable phantasmagorian illusions which set all the vibrations of the heart at work without moving the frame, or in imagination only, quite depriving our senses for the time of the true sense of existence. Scarcely had the first gleam of Aurora peeped through my curtains, than a double knock was heard at the street door, apprising me that the time for rising had come, and forthwith brought back my wandering senses to the realities of human life: a minute after, a friend popped into my dressing-room, exclaiming, “Hallo! so you are going to the seat of the war, I hear.”

“The seat of the war! who told you so?”

“Why, the Times, to be sure; I have just read your letter, which, at all events, is very likely to carry you as far as Constantinople.”

“You don’t say so! What! is my letter in the Times to-day?”

“Of course it is,” he replied.

“I sent it so late last night, I did not suppose it could appear till to-morrow, if at all.”

“They would not have inserted it, arriving so late, I assure you, had they not thought it of great importance, and that you were likely to improve the hospital diets. No doubt you will soon set them to rights. I read the article, and must say I was much pleased when I saw your letter, and that is what brought me here so early: but mind, it is a long journey, and rather a dangerous one.”

“Well, my dear friend, if Government honour me with their confidence, I shall be happy to start immediately, and rough it for a short time--say a couple of months, which will be about the time required.”

“My opinion is, that you will soon hear from the authorities.”

“I say again, they are perfectly welcome to my humble services.”

“Are you going out this morning?”

“Yes, I am; excuse my shaving.”

“Oh, by all means; which way are you going?”

“Anywhere but to a wintry place.”

“Where’s that--Gravesend or Margate?”

“Oh dear, no--Virginia Water.”

“To stay?”

“No; only to settle a few important matters there, prior to my departure for Paris.”

“You were there the best part of last summer.”

“So I was; who told you that?”

“Don’t you recollect the party you gave there, when Messrs. R---- and ladies were present, with myself, my wife, and two daughters? We never enjoyed such a day in our lives; it really was a splendid affair altogether; and what an excellent dinner you gave us in the open air, in the long avenue of beech trees facing the lake! I shall not forget it as long as I live--I may say we, for my young ones often talk about it. There were about twenty-four guests--you recollect, of course?”

“Certainly I do now, and what a lovely day it was!”

“Never saw a finer,” said my friend; “the ladies walked round the lake without their bonnets, and with nothing but their parasols to screen them from the sun. But I tell you who was most amusing amongst the party--that old Yorkshire farmer.”

“Ha, ha! old Lawrence--he is a squire now, if you please, and has retired. He was very kind to me on the occasion of the grand agricultural dinner at Exeter; the ox I roasted whole upon that occasion came from his farm; it was roasted by gas, and in the castle yard.”

“Ah, I recollect seeing an engraving of it in the Illustrated London News; I can’t help laughing when I think of the old man, for at every fresh dish of which he partook--and he tasted a good many--he exclaimed--‘Well! hang me, if I know what stuff I am eating, but it’s precious good!’”

“I know he is very eccentric; he stayed with me nearly a week, and really made me laugh heartily with his genuine repartee. He is a good and a charitable man, I assure you. I taught his housekeeper how to make cheap soup while I was at his residence, and ever since the old gentleman has given it four times a-week to the poor round his small estate, during the winter season.”

“I know the soup you mean. I cut the receipt from the paper in the year ‘47, at the time of the famine in Ireland, when you were sent there by Government.”

“Exactly.”

“We tried it ourselves; and my wife’s mother has ever since given it throughout the winter to about twelve or fifteen poor people. The old lady was at first obliged to make it herself, her cook saying that no soup could be made with such a small quantity of meat. She would not even attempt to make it.”

“I believe you; but those people are not aware that in Scotland, where the strongest people in the British dominions are to be found, and especially in the Highlands, they live principally upon oatmeal porridge and vegetables, partaking of a very small portion of animal food;--and did you ever see a finer carnation cheek, or purer blood, than that which flows through the frame of a Scotch lassie, or in the veins of the descendants of the Bruce?”

“No, never; not even on the Continent. But, to return to the receipts: I would advise you to publish them. They would be eagerly purchased, and would render greater service. You must be aware that a slip from a newspaper is often lost.”

“Very true; and I intend to give a series of new receipts on food for the poor, still more simplified.”[2]

“With reference to our conversation about old Lawrence: no doubt he is a good fellow, and a genuine rough diamond into the bargain.”

“Yes,” said I, “and you may add, of the finest water. By the bye, didn’t he go to bed rather top-heavy?”

“Ah, that he did, and fancied himself at home blowing up his old woman, as he calls her, for having let the cat into the dairy, and being unable to find his gun to shoot her. What most astonished the old boy, he told me on the coach next morning on our way to London, was having no headache and feeling as hungry as a hunter--as I did myself. He made sure, after such a mixture of dishes, wines, liquors, and spirits of all kinds, that he should be ill and unable to eat anything for a couple of days. Quite the contrary, however: when at Staines, we made a hearty breakfast at the hotel; and for my part, I never felt better in my life.”

“And do you know,” I replied, “I should have been surprised if my dinner had produced the contrary effect; rest assured, that a dinner well conceived and properly executed, coupled with well-selected beverages, is more than half digested. As Hippocrates says, very justly, ‘What pleases the palate nourishes;’ and we may add, greatly helps to accelerate the digestion when properly cooked. The palate alone can relish the charm of degustation, and only feels satiated when the stomach, being the working organ, refuses to deal with improper food, never failing to acquaint you physically of its ill treatment, both as regards ill-cooked food or bad beverages. Now, to illustrate this argument more forcibly, I would wager that I could give a first-class indigestion to the greatest gourmet, even while using the most recherché provisions, without his being able to detect any fault in the preparation of the dishes of which he had partaken; and this simply by improperly classifying the condiments used in the preparation; thus deceiving the cleverest doctors and the finest palate by a mere counterbalance of unctuous seasoning, which no doubt caused the celebrated Leibnitz to say, in his treatise upon the chemistry of food, now translated into English, and to which I have already referred in my Shilling Cookery Book, ‘That among all the arts known to man, there is none which enjoys a juster appreciation, and the products of which are more universally admired, than that which is concerned in the preparation of our food. Led by an instinct which has almost reached the dignity of conscious knowledge, as the unerring guide, and by the sense of taste, which protects the health, the experienced cook, with respect to the choice, admixture, and preparation of food, has made acquisitions surpassing all that chemical and physiological science have done in regard to the doctrine or theory of nutrition.’”

“Well, no doubt if the celebrated Leibnitz, who is considered one of the greatest authorities of the age, says so, you cannot be wrong, having had so much practice in the culinary art.”

“I also maintain that with the simplest and cheapest of all aliments, when in good condition, I have turned out a most wholesome and palatable food, quite worthy of the most refined palate, or of that of the initiated epicure. For instance, if only first-class provisions could be converted into succulent dishes, the gastronomic bill of fare of this sublunary world would indeed be so limited that more than two-thirds of its inhabitants would be classified as martyrs to the Mageric art--or, more plainly speaking, martyrs to the science of cookery--a too often neglected art, though of daily requirement; for, believe me, the everlasting pleasures of the table, which favour all ages, are not only the basis of good health when properly managed, but also the soul of sociability, not merely in high circles, but in every class of society, no matter how humble, the stomach of each individual having been nursed according to rank and wealth. Those most to be pitied are the real epicures of limited means, or the wealthy man without appetite or of bad digestion. The proverb is quite correct, ‘What the eye does not see the heart cannot grieve;’ and appetite being the best of sauce, will cause the coarsest food to be digested with delight by a robust stomach. By the same rule, what is more relished by our noble epicure than a dry sandwich or a coarse crust of bread and cheese at a farmhouse after a hard day’s sport?”

“Upon my word, you are perfectly right; appetite is really the best of sauce, for I often make a good and hearty supper upon baked potatoes, a little salt, and butter.”

“Now, my friend, I am ready to start; come with me--it is a fine frosty morning, and will do you good--come on.”

“I wish I could, but my City business is very heavy this morning, so I must decline; besides, we have a railway meeting called for three o’clock at the London Tavern.”

“Master, here’s a Hansom coming this way; shall I call it?”

“Yes, Annette, that’s a good girl.” I shook hands with my friend, and jumped into the cab--“I say, coachman, look sharp and drive to the Windsor railway station; I fear I shall miss the special train.”

“No, you will not,” said my friend, looking at his watch, “you have full twenty minutes; good-bye, a pleasant journey.”

“Well, adieu! I shall see you some evening at Jullien’s or Drury Lane Theatre.”

“Very probably.”

“Stay a minute, cabby;”--to the servant--“Annette, put any letters which may come on my desk; if anybody calls, say I shall be here to-morrow or next day at the latest.”

“Very well, sir, I will do so.”

On my arrival at the station, I merely had time to take my ticket and run to the train, which was just on the move. In a few seconds we were flying over rows of houses like vampires, leaving the then desolate Royal property, Vauxhall tumble-down theatre, with its skeleton firework frame, on the left. We passed through Chiswick, Barnes, Mortlake, Kew, with its toyish pagoda, leaving to the left Richmond, with its picturesque banks, cheerful villas, heroine of the hill, and its exquisite maids of honour; at the same time crossing the Thames, cheerfully smiling beneath us in its serpentine bed. Its limpid currents flowed merrily downwards to the mighty ocean through green bushes, aquatic plants, and the alabaster-coloured plumage of hundreds of swans. In twenty-five minutes we arrived at Staines station. I descended and immediately ascended again, but on the top of the Virginia Water coach, which generally waits for the special train. “Very frosty this morning, coachman.”

“Hallo, Mr. Soyer! is that you? We have not seen you God knows how long. I suppose you have left us for good now?”

“No, not quite; but your flat and unpicturesque country looks so dull and unsociable at this time of year.”

“Then you prefer town just now?” said he.

“I certainly do; there is always something to be seen there, and to keep one alive, morning, noon, and night.”

“Very true, Mr. Soyer; we are very dull here in winter.” The top of the coach was loaded with passengers. “Well, boy, what are you about below?”

“All right, coachman,” cried the parcel-boy. “Pst! pst! Go it, my Britons!”

We were now at full trot, the north wind in our faces, and a kind of heavy sleet, which in a few minutes changed the colour of our noses to a deep crimson, very much like the unfashionable colour of beet-root, freezing our whiskers and moustaches like sugar-candy, but by no means quite so sweet-tasted. By way of a joke, I said to the coachman, “This is the good old English way of travelling, is it not?”

“That it is, sir; and I’m very glad to see you know how to appreciate it. Talk about your railways, it’s perfect nonsense compared with a good four-in-hand coach, sir.” As he said this, he whipped his horses, “Pst! go ahead, my true blue! I recollect the good old time when we took from fourteen to fifteen hours from London to Dover, changing horses and drinking your glass of grog at almost every inn on the road--in fact, enjoying ourselves all night, especially when the widow was out.”

“What widow?” said I.

“The moon, to be sure!”

“That is a bright idea of yours. I was not aware the pale queen of night was a widow.”

“Lord bless you, sir, she must be a widow, for she always comes out alone, and keeps very late hours; a maid or a married woman can’t do that, you know,” said he, laughing heartily.

“If your remark is not correct, it is at all events very original.”

“But to come back to coach-travelling--then you really knew if you were travelling or stopping at home; while now they pack you up under lock and key, in strong wooden boxes, such as we keep our horses in at the stable; and at the head of them they have a kind of long iron saveloy, full of nothing, which runs away with the lot like mad, belching and swearing all the way, taking sights at us poor coachmen just so,” putting his hand to his nose, “when we go by, as though we were a set of ragamuffins. Call that a gentlemanly way of travelling, sir! They make fun of all the passengers who are a little behind time, saying the like of this: ‘Don’t you wish you may get it?’ If you drop anything by accident, the deuce a bit will they stop to pick it up; and you are no sooner in than they turn you out, and pocket your money without blushing, the same as though they had dragged you about from morning till night, as we used to do in the good old time. That was indeed money honestly earned, sir!”

“There certainly is a great deal of truth in your argument,” said I, laughing at his devotion to his old business.

“Is it not brimful of truth, sir?”

“Of course it is!” I was by this time about half frozen.

“Ah, sir, you’re a gentleman, and know life as well as I do. Depend upon it, sir, coach-travelling is the best after all--no danger of being smashed to pieces or of breaking your limbs. Not the slightest accident ever can happen. Hallo!” said he, stopping the horses short, “what the deuce is the matter with that horse? Look out, Bob!”

“Yes, sir; the old trace is broke again.”

“The deuce it is! Well, we must mend it.”

“You can’t--it’s broke in a fresh place, and we have no rope here.” The coachman getting down, unceremoniously threw the reins to me. “Hold them fast, sir.”

“Well, well, my lad, you must run back and fetch another.” The snow was then falling heavily, and we had not got more than a mile on the road. In about forty minutes the boy returned, perspiring terribly, though covered with snow.

“I’ve not been long, coachman, have I?”

“Not been long, my lad--why, my cargo is nearly frozen to death!”

“You’re right, coachman,” said an old gentleman. “And I promise you I will never travel by your coach again. This is the second time this month.”

“Well, sir, we are not travelling now--we are at a stand-still, and no mistake.”

“You may joke, but I don’t like it.”

“No more do I,” said coachman; “so we are of the same opinion.” At this we all laughed, except the old gentleman.

In a short time all was right again. The coachman had resumed his important position as well as the reins, which I abdicated to my great satisfaction, and we were on the move. “Very slippery, governor; my horses can scarcely keep their feet. Thank God, we are not in a hurry; we can do the journey much more comfortably.”

“Excuse me,” said I, “if I do not hold exactly the same opinion as I did just now about the railway.”

“My dear sir, are you in a hurry?” he asked.

“Yes, I am, and very cold besides.”

“What a pity you did not say so before! I should have made my stud fly, and beat to atoms that fussy stuff they call steam.”

“That’s a good man; show off a bit.”

“Pst! pst! pst! Look out for a full charge, Cossack; fly away, Cannon-ball. Pst! pst! that’s it, lads.” We were now nearly at a gallop.

“Coachman,” said I, “I see that your horses have martial names, if they have not a very martial appearance. Pray, who gave them such warlike titles?”

“The boys in the stable, sir. Everybody dreams of war now, sir; the very air we breathe smells of powder. Don’t you think so, sir?”

“No, I think it smells of cheese.”

“By-the-bye, there’s a basket of cheese for that foreign gentleman who lives at Virginia Water. Jump up, boy, and move that basket of cheese from here.”

We arrived at Wimbledon Common, and stopped to take up parcels and boxes, during which time the coachman pointed out to the old country gentleman with whom he had the argument, the window of the room where Cournet, the French officer of Marines, and the opponent of Barthélemy, who had just been hanged, died after the Windsor duel. He was saying that since Barthélemy had been hanged the house was no longer haunted, and that the pool of blood, which never could be washed out, had suddenly disappeared.

“Marvellous!” exclaimed the old gentleman; “I never heard anything like that in my life.”

“No more did I,” said our witty coachman, winking at me. The boy now called over the various parcels, and Cossack went off as fast as a cannon-ball. We made a few more stoppages at Englefield Green, to deliver several scolding letters and parcels from mistresses to their servants having charge of the summer abodes of wealthy merchants who reside in London during the winter. At one house, during the unloading of two or three boxes and a child’s cradle, a tidy-looking girl, who was waiting till they were taken in, had opened her letter, over which she appeared very sulky. The coachman, perceiving this, said, smiling--“Any answer, Sally?”

“No!” said Sally. “Oh, yes; tell the old lady that I will not live with her any longer;” and the girl cried.

“What’s the matter?” said the coachman.

“She’s an old plague! there’s my Harry of the 46th has not been here these four months, and she writes to say she hears that he comes every day.”

“Of course not--how could he? he’s been gone to the war with his regiment ever since last September.”

Sally, crying still louder, and wiping her eyes with her apron, exclaimed, “Perhaps the poor fellow is killed by this time, and don’t care a fig about me.”

“Well, well, lass, never mind that; soldiers are used to it.”

“Do you think I shall ever see him again, Mr. Coachman?”

“No doubt, my lass, but you must wait a little longer; and when he does come back, if he has distinguished, instead of extinguished, himself, he will have the Crimean medal, and perhaps be made a colonel--captain--general--marshal--or even a corporal; who knows? in these war times, every brave man has a chance.”

“Thank you, Mr. Coachman, you make me very happy--I shan’t cry any more.”

“But, Sally, am I to tell your mistress what you said?”

“Oh, dear, no! because I should lose my place; they are not such bad people after all, and master is so very kind to me.”

“I shall say nothing about it.”

“Pray, say nothing.”

“Pst, pst! now, my true blues, full speed for Virginia Water.” In twenty minutes we were before the very picturesque inn called the “Wheatsheaf;” every living soul came out to welcome us, thinking some accident had happened. There was the landlord, landlady, thin and bulky barmaids, house and kitchen maid, cook, pot and post boy, and a number of customers.

“What has happened that you are so late to-day?” said the landlord to the coachman.

“Nothing particular, governor; only a trace broke, and we had to fetch another: besides, the roads are very slippery.” To the barmaid--“Give us a light, girl, and a go of keep-me-warm.”

“Don’t believe him, sir,” exclaimed an old lady, who, upon the sudden stoppage when the trace broke, had a quarrel with the coachman. In opening the window violently, she broke it in twenty pieces; popping her head, half of which was covered with snow, out of the window--“He is a perfect brute,” said she; “he tried to upset us, and then would not move for above an hour at least--see the state I am in; is it not a great shame, a woman like me?”

“Well, madam,” said the landlord, “why don’t you shut the window?”

“What’s the use of pulling it up?--it’s broken in a thousand pieces, all through that nasty fellow!”

“I can assure you, madam, he bears a very good character with the gentry about here.”

The coachman, lighting his short pipe, and coming near them, said, “Don’t take notice of the old lady, she means no harm.”

“Don’t I, though! I say again, before everybody, you are a brute and a villain!”

“Go it, marm, go it,” said he, getting up. “It’s nothing new to me--my wife tells me that every day, which is partly the cause we have no family.” The favourite horse language of the coachman was again, heard--“Fly away to the assault like a set of Zouaves!” and in a few minutes nothing but a small black spot, resembling a fly crossing a sheet of paper, was seen running up the snow-covered hill which leads to the small village of Virginia Water.

I speedily joined the worthy and well-known landlord of the “Wheatsheaf”--Mr. Jennings, and his cheerful wife and barmaid; all of whom gave me a hearty country welcome, shaking my hands and arms in every direction ad libitum, in anticipation, no doubt, of my remembering them for a few days at all events. At the close of this gymnastic exercise, I requested them to give me some breakfast, in the small pavilion near the garden; also some pens, ink, and paper. My request was at once attended to.

“Do you intend to stay with us a few days, Mr. Soyer?” asked the landlord.

“No; I shall try and get back this evening, if possible--but to-morrow morning, at the latest. I only came to close a few pending accounts of my last summer’s stay at your lovely Virginia Water, and am going to Paris for the Exhibition, having been offered the superintendence of a large establishment.”

“But I hear that the Exhibition is postponed till next year.”

“So it is; but this is to be quite a new building, and erected close to the Exhibition, if we can get permission granted.”

“Good morning, sir; I shall see you before you leave. I am only going to the farm.”

“Yes, you will.”

I was sitting down to my breakfast, when, to my annoyance, as I had much business to transact, some one knocked at the door, and, without waiting for the reply, came in. It was the landlord, with a face full of anxiety and astonishment, his glasses raised to his forehead, a newspaper in his hand, and looking as serious as if he had just been married, or had lost one of his favourite pups. “I say, master,” said he, “do you mean it?”

“Mean what, man?”

“But now, really! do you mean it?”

“I’m puzzled to know to what you allude. Is it about my trip to Paris?”

“Paris! no, that has nothing to do with the letter of yours I have just read in the Times of this day.”

“Oh! now I understand you, and can easily account for your long face and evident astonishment.”

“Now you understand me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, allow me to tell you frankly that you are very foolish; you are not a military man, and have made the offer, it is true, very likely in a moment of enthusiasm; but plead any excuse you can to get out of it if you are sent for; remain where you are--‘Good folks are scarce,’ says the proverb.”

“Thanks to the proverb first, and you afterwards,” said I.

“And if you do go, it is a hundred to one against your returning.”

“Many thanks for your frank advice; but I am determined to go, and if Government send for me, I wish to be ready at a day’s notice; so sure I am that I can render some services to my fellow-creatures by so doing.”

“I have no doubt you can--but you may catch the fever, or God knows what besides! Why, they are dying by fifties and sixties a-day in the hospital at Scutari; look, here is the latest account, the names of the poor fellows defunct, and number of their regiments. There is no mistake in that.”

“I am aware of all that; but mind you, my firm belief is, that no fruit falls from the tree to the ground till it is perfectly ripe; and I also believe that we are never gathered from this frivolous world till we are really wanted in the other.”

“Such being your determination, it is no use talking any more about it; I only hope your health will not fail you, and that you will return and keep us alive as you did last year. I can assure you, your joyful dinner party, or ‘feet shampeter,’ as Mary the barmaid called it, and you used to say in French, was the talk of the country round. It is only three days ago that Colonel Cholmondeley was inquiring after you, and asking whether you had left the neighbourhood.”

“Ah, really! how is the Colonel?”

“He looks remarkably well, I assure you, and will be very glad to see you.”

“When you see the Colonel, pray present my most sincere compliments.”

“So I will.”

“I’m off, but hope to see you this evening; good-bye, in case I do not.” The days being short, and my business more complicated than I had anticipated, prevented my visiting my favourite summer spot, the Paradis Champêtre of England.[3]

I slept that evening at the “Wheatsheaf;” I had given orders to be called the next morning at daybreak, and was crossing the avenue of lime-trees leading to the lake, in anticipation of witnessing, as I was wont of a summer’s morning, its interminable sheet of silvery waters and green moss velvet banks, sprinkled with myriads of daisies--or stars of the fields--intermixed with golden cups, covered with pearly dew, bordered also by mountainous trees forming a formidable forest; the glittering Chinese fishing temple, Corinthian ruin, the flag floating on the castle tower, “Royal George” frigate and barks, the swans, and the music of thousands of birds with their notes of freedom so wild and full of nature. Alas! all my illusions were dispelled, as I could scarcely see a yard before me; a thick veil, caused by a severe white frost, seemed to monopolise and wrap in its virgin folds the beauty of this lovely spot. Though greatly disappointed, I was returning to the humble country inn with my soul filled by sublime reminiscences of that charming spot, worthy of the enchanted gardens of Armida, when a deformed and awkward-looking lout of a stableman, peeping from a clump of evergreens, thus accosted me:--“Will you take a red herring for breakfast, sir?”

I leave my readers to imagine the effect produced upon my then exalted imagination. Pushing him violently from me, “Away with you! unsociable and ill-timed Quasimodo!” I said. Having thus unceremoniously repulsed my evil genius, and being by that electric shock entirely deprived of my appetite, I ordered a post-chaise in lieu of breakfast, and in a short time was at the turnpike-gate adjoining the inn, waiting for change to pay the toll. It was then about ten minutes to eight o’clock.

In three-quarters of an hour the post-chaise took me to the railway station, and an hour after I was ascending my homely staircase, when the servant apprised me that many persons had called; some had left their cards, and a mounted groom had brought a letter, saying he would call at noon for an answer. Amongst the various letters I found upon my desk, I recognised one in the hand-writing of the Duchess of Sutherland. It was as follows:--

The Duchess of Sutherland will be much pleased to see Monsieur Soyer at Stafford House at two o’clock this day; or ten to-morrow morning, if more convenient to Monsieur Soyer.

7th February, 1856.

I had scarcely read this letter, when a double knock was heard at the street door. It was the footman from Stafford House, sent for an answer. I at once informed him I was going to wait upon her Grace; but as he was there, he might say that, at two o’clock precisely, I would do myself the honour of attending at Stafford House. Concluding, naturally enough, that the summons had reference to my letter, I immediately began to reflect how I should explain the plan I intended to adopt, in case my services were required. In the first place, I had decided that the most important question of all would be the entire freedom of my actions when I arrived at Scutari. This, of course, could not be granted, unless the Government, impressed with the importance of the subject, thought proper to do so. The active part would easily develop itself to my free and experienced mind.

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II. A SUMMONS TO STAFFORD HOUSE

Stafford House--A distinguished circle--The plan detailed--Its practicability admitted--Home again--Another summons--The War Office--An appointment made--Second interview with the Duchess of Sutherland--Samples of hospital diets--Question of seasoning--New system.

At ten minutes to two I entered the superb portico of Stafford House, and was shown to the ground-floor library by the Duke’s piper, young Mackenzie. “Her Grace will be with you presently,” said he. “Walk in, sir, and I will apprise the Duchess of your arrival; who, I am aware, is anxious to see you.”

I thanked him for his politeness, and he left me alone. I had scarcely time to cast a glance of admiration upon one of the chefs-d’œuvre of Landseer, representing the juvenile Stafford family, when her Grace entered, followed by the Duke and Duchess of Argyle, the Marquis and Marchioness of Stafford, the Marquis of Kildare, Lord and Lady Blantyre, her brother, and the children--about eighteen in number--Lady Grosvenor, and others. The Duchess of Sutherland introduced me to the noble circle, and requested all to be seated, which request was at once complied with; and her Grace addressed me in these terms:--“Monsieur Soyer, we have read with deep interest your letter which has appeared in the Times, and I cannot but express my admiration of your noble devotion when any good can be effected, or the position of the suffering be relieved or ameliorated by your assistance. The results of your interference would be very important--and especially at the present time--in our hospitals at Scutari, and in the Crimea, where, in consequence of such unexpected calamities, all is in the greatest confusion. I shall also observe to you, that I am well aware this offer is not your premier coup d’essai, or first trial. But I should advise you to consider the matter well, in case the Government accept your services. Judging from the tenor of the letters I receive daily from various departments at Scutari, I can perceive great difficulties, of which you are perhaps not aware.”

“Your Grace,” I replied, “is extremely kind to initiate me into the true position of the case; and first of all, I beg to observe that, were there no great difficulties to surmount, I should not have offered my services. But will you permit me to set forth, in a few words, the plan I propose adopting if Government should honour me with their confidence?”

“Pray do,” exclaimed several of the circle, especially the Duke of Argyle, close to whom I was seated. Looking at his watch, and addressing me, the Duke continued, “Pray, Mr. Soyer, give me a slight conception of your project, as I have only a few minutes to stay. The Council of the Ministry, of which I am a member, meet in about an hour, and I must be there. I should be very glad to submit your plans to them; it might greatly tend to their adoption.”

“Very true; your Grace shall judge if they are practicable or not. First of all, I should beg the entire confidence of the Government relative to my actions concerning the culinary department of the hospitals--that is, that they should grant me the power of obtaining the necessary articles of food already in the hospitals, and other things which might require to be purchased by either the commissariat or purveyor’s department, without the slightest delay, as the want of such power would tend to certain failure--which I wish to avoid; while the possession of their confidence will ensure success. I will then pledge my word to do everything in my power, and with the greatest economy, and, if possible, with the same quantity of provisions as at present allowed by Government, or even less, which would be a source of high gratification to me; and I sincerely hope to be able to do so after the inquiries I made this morning, previous to attending your Grace’s appointment; for I perceive, in many instances, that too much is given of one thing, and not enough of another. Having, therefore, the power to vary the ingredients and quantity, as well as to change inferior provisions for better, when possible, will greatly assist me in my undertaking.”

“I have no doubt,” said her Grace, “that what you request will be granted without the least hesitation.”

“My plan would also be, never to act without the sanction of the doctor-in-chief respecting the diets I mean to introduce; and I would not interfere in the slightest degree with any former department, or displace a man from his duty except for incapacity, insubordination, or bad conduct; for believe me, if I am sent to Scutari, I go with the intention of doing all the good I can, and simplifying my difficult undertaking in such a manner as to ensure success. I should also claim the power of being able to condemn inferior provisions, and to substitute better, always without deviating from any army contract which has been, or may be, made by the Government, as I do not mean to hold myself responsible for the purchase of any provisions or stores, but merely to give my approval or disapproval of them. Upon my arrival at Scutari, I propose at once to take two hundred patients, and diet them for a week or more, according to the doctor’s approbation, and then gradually increase the number, till I have the whole under my direction, if approved of by the chief medical officer. Such is the plan I propose adopting, and I shall beg your Grace to give me your opinion upon it.”

“The way you intend carrying out your plan seems very practicable.”

“Well,” said the Duke, addressing the Duchess of Sutherland, “you must excuse me leaving now, as I have but a short time to get to Downing-street. Mr. Soyer, I shall have much pleasure in submitting your plan to the Ministerial Council, and will report progress.”

After the Duke’s departure, a general conversation was opened upon the subject, and having exchanged a few words with Lord and Lady Blantyre and the Duchess of Sutherland, who kindly promised to acquaint me with the result, I withdrew, and left Stafford House. No sooner home, having obtained the correct ration-scale of provisions from Dr. Andrews’s office, than I formed a very fair idea of what I could do for the best.

The next morning, February 11th, about ten o’clock, I received the following communication from her Grace:

The Duchess of Sutherland has just seen his Grace the Duke of Argyle, who has spoken to Lord Panmure upon the subject of Mr. Soyer’s offer. I think Lord Panmure is willing to forward the humane and practical views of Mr. Soyer, and will see Mr. Soyer at the War Office to-morrow.

The Duchess wishes to have the pleasure of seeing Monsieur Soyer after his visit to Lord Panmure.

Upon receipt of this letter I immediately went, as desired, to the War Department to see Lord Panmure’s private secretary, Mr. Ramsay, and inquire when and where I could see his lordship. The hearty reception I met with from that gentleman was a most favourable augur, and encouraged me to persist in the very precarious undertaking in which I was about to engage, although many friends and near relations strongly tried to prevent me from pursuing it, placing constantly before my eyes the most sinister pictures, which, I am proud to say, never for a moment altered my mind. Having but one object in view, I was determined to see only the best side of the medal, and chance the rest.

Mr. Ramsay having arranged my interview with Lord Panmure for the next morning, I then retired, thanking him much for his very kind and courteous reception. I went home to test a few samples of diets and aliments I had prepared from the soldiers’ rations; placing the whole of them in small vases, well packed, I sent them to Stafford House, there to remain till my arrival. In about an hour I had a second interview with the Duchess of Sutherland and a number of her noble family. After speaking of my visit to the War Office, and my appointment with his lordship for the morning,

“Lord Blantyre,” the Duchess said, “has some business at the War Department to-day, and I shall trouble his lordship to remit another letter from me on the subject to Lord Panmure, who has, at the present time, so much to do that it is likely your interview might be postponed for another day.”

“I can assure your Grace that the extreme interest you take in my behalf appears to me a good omen, assuring me of success, in case I should be sent to the seat of war. I would also observe that, being well aware of the value of Lord Panmure’s time, in a few minutes I shall be able to unfold my plan, and he will no doubt at once perceive whether it is practicable or not, and will give me a decided answer; therefore, to lose time, on either side, would be impolitic. But, before I leave, will your Grace honour me by inspecting a few samples of hospital diets which I have prepared as a test, from the rations as at present given to the soldiers? They will form part of my new system, if approved by the medical officers.”

“Have you some here, Mr. Soyer?”

“Yes, your Grace, I have; one of the footmen has taken charge of them till required.”

The order having been given, a footman entered with the samples on a plateau, with spoons, &c., which were tasted by the select and noble party, who at once pronounced them very palatable, and to which I remarked, that through the nature of the ingredients they could not fail to be nutritious and light.

“It is to be regretted,” I said, “that the cooks in many hospitals are not allowed to put the seasoning in the savoury diets, which restriction will invariably produce very unsatisfactory results. I will here repeat the saying of Hippocrates:--‘What pleases the palate nourishes.’ If this great man has said so, it is a pity that some of his modern disciples have altered or deviated from such an ancient and just maxim, for I will vouch that a diet properly seasoned is far more generous and invigorating to the patient than the unpalatable food prepared without anything of the sort; at the same time many maladies will require various degrees of seasoning, as too much in some cases would prove equally if not more injurious than the want of it in others. This point must be left to the doctor’s discretion. I am also aware that in some hospitals salt and pepper are allowed, and, I may say, too abundantly; and each patient is permitted to season his food, not according to his taste, but his judgment: this is another evil, as he is or may be at the time entirely deprived of either taste or judgment. These remarks will be the first I shall submit to the notice of the principal doctor, and I am morally certain he will agree with me as soon as they are properly explained.”

“A most important observation,” said the Duchess; “for, even when in the enjoyment of good health, what is more disagreeable than an insipid dish?”

“I have always, madame, maintained that the cook must season for guests or patients, and not these for the cook.”

“In fact,” said I to the Marquis of Stafford, who had tasted several of the samples, “does not your lordship opine that salt and pepper should be almost excluded from the ward, and that the cook should be as responsible for seasoning the food as the apothecary is for making up the doctor’s prescription correctly?”

“Certainly; but can you persuade them to do so?”

“Very easily; by my system of diet, every recipe will be printed, framed, and hung up in the kitchen, so that any person, even a soldier (provided he can read), will be capable of executing them well, as each receipt will be comprised in a few lines.”

“Ah! that will, indeed, be most valuable, and readily applied in every hospital.”

During this conversation, the Duchess of Sutherland and the Marquis of Stafford had tasted another kind of food which I had made for the camp. It was prepared from peas-meal, in which I had introduced a due proportion of salt and pepper,--called “Symon’s ground baked peas-meal,”--and by pouring a pint of boiling water upon a good table-spoonful of it, made a most excellent and thick purée of peas quite hot. I one day, as a trial, ate nothing but that and a biscuit, and did not feel the least inclined for anything else. I do not mean to imply that such fare would do for a continuance, but when nothing else could be obtained, it certainly would be a great comfort for the troops to get a hot meal, made in a few minutes, and without trouble. All present tasted this, and expressed themselves very favourably about it. Having also left some samples of coffee, I was retiring, when the Duchess of Sutherland kindly reminded me that she should be happy to see me the morning after my interview with the Minister-at-War. Of course I should not have failed in presenting myself, even without this kind invitation.

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III. OFF TO THE WAR

Reception at the War Office--Full powers granted--The Duke of Cambridge--His chef de cuisine, Comte--Model of a portable camp or field stove--Visit to Lord Shaftesbury--Dr. Andrews--An encouraging porter--Phonetic experiments--Mr. Stafford’s kind reception--Model of the stove inspected by the Duke of Cambridge and by Lord Panmure--Interview with Mr. Brunel--Dr. Mayne--Question of patent--Sir Benjamin Hawes’ office--Stafford House again--Letters of introduction--Honourable Mrs. Herbert--A recreant secretary--Quite at a non-plus--A friend in need--Farewell at London Bridge--Pavilion Hotel, Folkestone.

At nine o’clock next morning I was at the War Office by appointment. Lord Panmure arrived at half-past, and by the kindness of Mr. Ramsay, who had mentioned my arrival, I was immediately introduced and most cordially received. After a few words on my part, as I had not had the pleasure of seeing Lord Panmure since I left the Reform Club, he inquired what I proposed doing in respect to the cooking department of Scutari Hospital. Stating briefly that which I had previously explained in detail to the Duke of Argyle when at Stafford House, and with which Lord Panmure seemed to be perfectly acquainted, he said to me,--

“You must, after you have done there, go to the Crimea, and cheer up those brave fellows in the camp;--see what you can do! Your joyful countenance will do them good, Soyer; try to teach them to make the best of their rations!”

I then observed that, first of all, I must try and succeed in the hospitals; secondly, that, if the troops in the Crimea had the same small tin camp-kettle I had seen in the camp at Chobham, it would be impossible for me to improve the style of cooking, as they were much too small, and burnt too much fuel, more especially in the open air.

“Well,” said Lord Panmure, “can you substitute anything more applicable for the camp, and which can be easily carried with the regiments while on march?”

“I will set my head to work and try, and if any plan which I consider practicable strikes me, I will have a model of it made, and submit the same for your lordship’s approval.”

“Well, do.”

“With reference to the hospital at Scutari, I believe that is a permanent building, situated near a large metropolis, full of resources, and I have nothing to risk going there and setting to work immediately. I shall start in the full conviction of being able to do some good, if your lordship honours me with your full confidence and grants me the power of acting according to my own judgment in a profession which I have successfully practised for upwards of twenty years.”

“Very good, Soyer! I shall give orders to that effect, and furnish you with letters of introduction to every department.”

“Now, I hope you will do me the honour of accepting my services as I offered them, through the medium of the public press; such acceptance on the part of your lordship will, I can assure you, much facilitate the progress of my undertaking.”

“I understand your meaning, Mr. Soyer; but I must make some arrangement for your expenses.”

“Those, of course, I shall accept, or I should be giving offence to your lordship as well as the Government; more especially as I am, after visiting Scutari, to proceed to the Crimea.”

“Well, tell me when you can start,--the mail leaves at noon to-morrow.”

“I should be most happy to leave to-morrow, but previous to my departure for so long and unexpected a journey, I have some important private affairs to settle; it will therefore be impossible.”

“Ah, truly! then I leave it to you, Soyer; but the sooner you go the better.”

“Your lordship may depend upon my anxiety and promptitude; not a day, or even a minute shall be lost.”

“Fare you well, Soyer; come and see me before your departure.”

“Of course I will; but, begging your pardon, to whom shall I address myself for any further information I may require?”

“To myself, and no one else,” was Lord Panmure’s reply.

“I should be sorry to interrupt you in the incessant business you have from morning till night.”

“My secretary, Mr. Ramsay, will always be here; but do not hesitate, if you require it, to see me.”

“I certainly will not.”

After a few words with Mr. Ramsay upon the subject of my interview, and what was decided upon, I immediately went to inform the Duchess of Sutherland of the result of my visit, at which her Grace expressed her gratification, and requested me to call again prior to my departure for the East, stating that she would give me some important letters of introduction to persons at Scutari, which would be most useful to me. After promising to do this, I retired. My intention was then to pay a visit to the Duke of Cambridge, who at that time took great interest in the subject, he having lately visited the hospital at Scutari; and made important observations upon the system of cooking carried on there.

As I was on my way to St. James’s Palace, I met his Highness, accompanied by the Honourable James Macdonald, leaving the house; and having paid my respects, he inquired if I was going to Scutari, to which I replied in the affirmative. In a few words I gave him the result of my interview with Lord Panmure, and also spoke of the warm interest the Duchess of Sutherland took in the subject.

“Yes, I am aware of it,” said he. “I had the pleasure of seeing her Grace yesterday.” I then made a few inquiries respecting the state of the hospitals there, which his highness very kindly described to me.

The Duke remarked--“Your friend Comte will be able to give you all the information you may require, as he was with me at Scutari, and saw all the kitchen department in detail.”

“Many thanks, your highness; I shall do myself the pleasure of paying him an early visit.”

Five minutes after I was with my friend Comte, the Duke of Cambridge’s chef de cuisine, who kindly initiated me into all the doings, both in the camp and in the hospitals on the Bosphorus. This information was of great service to me.[4]

Upon leaving my friend I hastily returned home, intending to draw out the plan of a model for a portable camp or field stove, which could also be applied to the use of the hospitals. Having heard that no regular kitchens had been established there, I was anxious to have a simple apparatus to take out with me of which I understood the working, and which might be put in action immediately on my arrival. In a very short time I hit upon an idea which I thought could be easily carried out, and would answer perfectly. Losing no time, I jumped into a cab and immediately drove to the eminent gas engineers and stove makers, Messrs. Smith and Phillips, of Snow-hill. On submitting my plan to those scientific gentlemen, they pronounced it practicable, and promised me a model, one inch to the foot, to be ready in a day or two.

Although the snow was falling heavily, I paid an early visit to Lord Shaftesbury, to whom I had the honour of being permitted to dedicate my last work--the “Cookery for the People.”

His lordship gave me a most cordial reception, and was much, pleased to hear of my intention of going to the East. Lord Shaftesbury made several useful observations respecting the importance of my mission. I bade him adieu. His lordship kindly wished me all the success I could desire, and said that he should be happy to hear of my proceedings, of which I promised to inform him a short time after my arrival.

As I had a letter of introduction from Mr. Ramsay to Dr. Andrews, I proceeded to that gentleman’s office, where I found several medical gentlemen waiting, with some of whom I had the pleasure of being acquainted. Others were engaged testing samples of preserved milk in glasses; and having asked me to test some, I selected one which they all agreed was the best: I believe it turned out to be Gamble’s preserved milk, in tins. My letter of introduction having been given to the doctor, I had an immediate interview.

After listening to my few inquiries, he kindly wrote me a letter of introduction to Dr. Cumming, the superintendent at Scutari, and all the hospitals on the Bosphorus, promising me his support, and requesting that I might have all I required in my department upon application to the purveyor. He then put me in communication with a gentleman in charge of the stores, who would give me all the information respecting the kitchen utensils then in use in the hospitals. Having taken notes of everything, I retired perfectly satisfied with the important information I had gathered in so short a time.

I was well aware of the multiplicity of business daily transacted by the doctor, and the difficulty of obtaining a private interview with him, even on business, as one of the assistant porters told me when I called early one morning, that I might call till doomsday, and not be able to see him. This, of course, I took for granted, as no doubt the doctor would upon this solemn occasion be more engaged than ever. I must, however, observe that he at first took me for a merchant who had been for several years trying to persuade the English faculty to sanction or adopt the use of leeches to the same extent as is done in France. Not much flattered by the comparison, I wished him better manners for the future.

“I beg your pardon, sir; but not being on the military list, I did not know you. Why didn’t you tell me you was Monseer Soyewere, then I should have knowed you? Of course, everybody knows you in England, Ireland, Wales, and Scotland.”

“Well, never mind; but did I not give you my card?”

“Of course you did; but I could not make out the name of So-ye-were from five such letters as that,” said he, showing my card to some one present. “Soyer! surely that never can be So-ye-were!”

“You spell and write admirably. Thank you for the wrinkle. I shall have my card altered.”

I told the cabman to drive me to the residence of Mr. Stafford, M.P., at whose chambers I had the day before left a letter of introduction from the Duchess of Sutherland. I had the pleasure of a very interesting interview with that gentleman, who had then just returned from Scutari. Having given me the necessary details of what was most required, and about the number of assistants I should take with me to insure immediate success, he promised to furnish me with several letters of introduction, if I would send or call for them before my departure.

“I shall, certainly,” said I, “much prefer calling, were it only to have the advantage of a little more of your valuable information upon any subject which may strike you after my departure; and I thank you for your kind and valuable suggestions.”

“When do you think of starting?”

“In a couple of days at the latest.”

“Very well; the letters shall be ready without fail, and two or three small parcels, which you will be kind enough to deliver for me--one especially for Miss Nightingale, rather fragile, and which I cannot send by post.”

“I shall be most happy; jusqu’au plaisir de vous revoir.”

I devoted the rest of that day to my private affairs, packing, and paying farewell visits. The next morning, at half-past nine, Messrs. Smith and Phillips, according to promise, brought me a most beautiful small model of the field-stove, which they warranted first-rate, and to be capable of working in or out of doors, and in all weathers. I immediately proceeded to the War-Office, to show the model, and explain the principle to Lord Panmure. In the waiting-room I had the honour of meeting the Duke of Cambridge, which gave me an excellent opportunity of explaining its merits. The Duke appeared to approve of it, and particularly noticed the great economy of fuel consequent upon the construction and smallness of the furnace. The Duke made some important remarks, and gave me a few hints upon the cooking regulations both in the hospitals and in the camps. These I took note of, and after explaining my plan of transport, I was quite delighted at having had such an opportunity of conversing with the Duke on a subject in which I was aware he felt particular interest. Mr. Ramsay, the secretary, having sent for me, I quitted the Duke; and, before leaving, I informed him that I had seen my friend Comte, and that he had given me all the assistance in his power, and had also told me that his highness had presented the hospital with a very nice petite batterie de cuisine, which, no doubt, I should find very useful upon my arrival.

“Adieu, Monsieur Soyer, I wish you well, and hope you will succeed.”

On reaching Mr. Ramsay’s office, that gentleman kindly informed me that if I wished to see Lord Panmure I had better wait till he went to take his luncheon. I then stated that my object was to show his lordship the model of a stove I had invented for the use both of the hospitals and the army.

“Walk into the next room; Lord Panmure will be there in a few minutes, and you will have plenty of time to show it without interfering with his business.”

I had not waited ten minutes before Lord Panmure came in alone.

“Ah, Mr. Soyer, what have you there?”

“The model of a stove I wish to submit to your lordship. It is one which will, I believe, suit admirably for cooking both in and out of doors.”

After closely examining it, and listening to the details I had previously given to the Duke of Cambridge, Lord Panmure approved of it, and requested me to have another made, which he might keep by him for inspection.

He then inquired how many cooks I should take with me.

“Only a few from Paris,” I replied, “as I wish to make a trial before engaging many people; besides, I hope to be able, in a very short time, to instruct the soldiers, who, being under discipline, might prove as useful as any cooks.”

Lord Panmure seemed pleased at my anxiety to instruct the soldiers; and, as he very justly remarked--“We want them to learn how to cook their rations to the best advantage, and that your instructions should remain for ever among them. Well, I have settled all you wished me to do; and my secretary, Mr. Ramsay, will remit you all the letters you require. When do you think of starting?”

“By the next mail.”

“Well!” said his lordship, shaking me heartily by the hand, “Good-bye, if I do not see you again before your departure.”

“It would only be troubling you; I therefore beg to take this opportunity of thanking your lordship for the kind reception and encouragement I have received, and, still more, for the confidence with which you have honoured me. I assure you that it will cause me to be most careful and economical, and it will be my pride to improve the diet without increasing the expense to Government. This may not be effected at first; but when the system is once introduced, and fairly established, I will answer for both a great amelioration as well as a saving.”

“I am confident, Soyer, that you will do your best.”

“Your lordship may depend upon me for that, were it only for my own sake.”

“Well, write as soon as you arrive, and let us know how you get on.”

Upon leaving, I met Mr. Ramsay, and related to him verbatim what had passed between Lord Panmure and myself. I then showed him the model, which he understood perfectly well, and gave me the engineer, Mr. Brunel’s, address. I called upon that gentleman, and had the pleasure of an interview. He at once gave his full and entire approval of the principle, saying, “You really come at a most propitious time; Dr. Mayne and myself are actually busily engaged discussing a plan for establishing kitchens in the Smyrna hospital. Yours will answer very well, and assist us materially, as it is always a tedious department to construct in order to be effective, and work properly. No doubt they will be applicable to every public institution; besides, what a small quantity of fuel they must consume.”

“Very little, indeed; and with this simple regulator you may manage the ebullition to a nicety, even in the open air. I shall also beg to remark, that they will be made of a beautiful metal, that will never require tinning; and the whole, though light in weight, will be extremely strong, and will last several years without needing repairs, or, at least, very trifling ones, that will not interfere with their use for a single day. They will take up but little room, and may be easily kept clean. No bricks are required, no chimney to be swept, and they can be as easily removed as any piece of furniture in your room.”

“You are perfectly right; and I give you my candid opinion, they are the very stoves required for the purpose. I should like Dr. Mayne to see it; if you can, call as you go to the War Office, and show him the model. I can then speak with him upon the subject.”

“With the greatest of pleasure.”

As Dr. Mayne had not arrived when I called, I went and fetched a passport for myself, and one for my secretary. Upon my return, the doctor had examined the model, and seemed much pleased, saying--“It will answer very well.” I left the address of the manufacturers with him, and then retired. They were immediately adopted both at Smyrna, and later at Rankioi.

A gentleman present, who seemed to have taken a great deal of interest in our descriptive conversation, followed me to the door, and, in a low voice, asked if I had taken out a patent.

“No, I have not; but I shall put my name and label upon them.”

“Well, if you were to take out a patent, you would make a fortune.”

“You may be right; but upon such an occasion I should fancy myself wrong. I will therefore give it, pro bono publico. I am well aware that by making it more complete I could take out either registration or patent, but I would not do that for the world; as it would be immediately reported that I expected to be repaid for my services by the profits of the patent of the stove, and upon these grounds I decline any such proceeding.”

As it was then about three o’clock, I went, by appointment, to Sir Benjamin Hawes’ office to bid that gentleman adieu, and to receive his final orders, showing him at the same time the model, which he seemed to appreciate thoroughly. He gave me the best advice, and promised me his powerful support throughout my culinary campaign. In return, I engaged to communicate all my movements, and retired.

At noon, next day, I again called at Stafford House, “not by appointment.” On being informed of my visit, the Duchess at once favoured me with an audience. “I am come,” said I, “to announce my departure. I wish, ere I leave to-morrow, to thank your Grace, and to show you the model of my new stove which I mean to introduce into the hospital kitchens.”

“Ah!” exclaimed her Grace, “I must go and fetch the Duke. He will be highly pleased with it, and he wished very much to see you before your departure.”

The Duke soon entered the great hall, with a large party, to whom I explained the principle, as I had before done to the Duke of Cambridge. I also stated that the day previous I had had the honour of showing it to Lord Panmure, and Mr. Brunel, the celebrated engineer, all of whom were much pleased with its efficacy, simplicity, and economy; more especially Mr. Brunel, who so highly appreciated the principle of its construction, that he at once adopted it, and applied it to the hospital kitchens at Smyrna and Rankioi, which he was there about to fit up.

The Duke made many remarks respecting the simplicity of its construction and the immense economy of fuel; “the transport of which,” I observed, “was so extremely difficult and costly.” I also remarked that one stove might be placed in a tent or hut containing fifty or sixty men; and they could cook there without the smallest inconvenience or difficulty, while it would throw out sufficient heat, “being in use nearly all day, viz., for breakfast, dinner, and tea,” to warm the hut in winter, while in summer it might be turned out of doors.

Having been complimented by all present, I was about to retire, when the Duchess observed that she had written several letters of introduction for me. “Among the number,” said her Grace, “you will find one for Miss Nightingale.”

I returned my sincere thanks to all present, and in particular to the Duke and Duchess. I assured them that the kindness and great encouragement I had received from them would be for ever engraved in my memory. The Duke remarked that he was very glad to see me in such high spirits. I acknowledged this with a bow.

“But, Mr. Soyer, suppose you should be taken ill?” said the Duchess.

“Well, your Grace--cela est à la volonté de Dieu--at present I am happy to say I have not any fears on that head, and am quite resigned to whatever Providence may dictate. Once more I beg to reiterate my feelings of gratitude, and bid your Grace and your illustrious family adieu.”

As it was nearly one o’clock, I called upon Mr. Ramsay, who had all my letters ready. He did me the honour to introduce me to General Vivian, of the Turkish Contingent, and his brother, Captain Ramsay, the general’s aide-de-camp. Anticipating the pleasure of meeting those gentlemen in the East, I departed with the best wishes of all.

Mr. Ramsay gave me a letter for the Honourable Mrs. Herbert, to whom I was anxious to pay a visit, well aware of the important information I could gather from that benevolent lady, who was in constant communication with the hospitals in the East, and also with Miss Nightingale. I was very kindly received; but, instead of giving me an encouraging prospect of success, that lady very candidly informed me that the number of letters she daily received were most unsatisfactory, and that she did not think it possible for me to restore order in the cooking department at the great barrack hospital. “The difficulties you will encounter,” said she, “are incalculable.”

“So I anticipate,” was my reply; “but I must observe, that I love difficulties, in order to surmount them. And with the power so graciously conferred upon me by Lord Panmure, I cannot fail to do some good, if my health does not fail me.”

“I hope,” said Mrs. Herbert, “you will succeed, and shall be happy to hear of an amelioration. When do you think of going?”

“To-morrow.” Bidding her adieu, and thanking her for her kind reception, I retired.

On reaching home, I found the promised letters from Mr. Stafford, all my luggage packed, and was on the point of starting, when I learned that the gentleman who was going with me as secretary, and had his passport ready, declined to accompany me. His relations and friends had persuaded him not to go, the fever being so bad there, and so many deaths occurring daily. I was thus placed in an awkward position, and was, moreover, pestered at home by intrusive visitors, and no end of ridiculous letters. I thought of starting alone; but, upon reflection, I decided upon passing the evening at the Adelaide Hotel, at London Bridge, and in the morning looking out for another party; thus, to my great annoyance, losing another day. To start alone without a first-class companion for so long a journey was a sad affair. I must observe that I had previously engaged two young men, at high wages, as cooks, one of whom declined going to Scutari, but did not mind the Crimea; the other fell ill. Thus, my prospects on the eve of my departure were anything but favourable.

Next morning, while driving along Piccadilly, I met a friend, who, in congratulating me upon my proposed journey, and wishing me success in my undertaking, said, “So Mr. L---- is going with you as secretary, is he not?”

“No, he is not! he has left me in the lurch at the last minute; and, my dear fellow, I can tell you what, there is a chance for you--it is only for two or three months--you will be well paid, and all expenses defrayed.”

“It is very kind of you to make me the offer,” he replied; “but I cannot leave my business at a minute’s notice. How long could you give me to prepare?”

“Oh! I am off this evening by the mail.”

“I have no clothes ready for travelling.”

“Never mind that; you can get all you require in Paris, where I shall remain two days upon business.”

“Indeed! then in two hours I will give you a decided answer.”

At the expiration of that time my friend made his appearance. We drew up an agreement, got his passport, and started the same evening; but not on the sly, as I had anticipated. Having forgotten to warn T. G. not to mention the fact of our intended journey, he had called upon several of his friends, with some of whom I was acquainted, and to my surprise, when I reached the station, I found about twenty assembled to bid us farewell. If I mention this circumstance, it is only to have an opportunity of publicly thanking those gentlemen for their hearty farewell, and three cheers--the echo of which still vibrates in my heart, and was through the whole of my culinary campaign a high source of gratification to my feelings. That night we slept at the Pavilion Hotel, Folkestone.

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IV. DELIGHTS OF TRAVEL

The lost pocket-book--Found at last--Scene at a station--Caught in a fog--Arrival at Boulogne--The Emperor’s first valet-de-chambre--An avalanche of earth--Table talk--Napoleon’s projected trip to the Crimea--News of the death of the Czar--An incredulous auditor--A bet quickly won--Paris--Lyons--Marseilles.

The Boulogne steamer was to start at half-past seven in the morning; the weather was anything but favourable, as rain was falling in torrents, and a thick fog coming on. T. G. and myself were ready to start, when a sad adventure occurred--my pocket-book, containing the best part of my cash and my official letters, was not to be found.[5] As I recollected having put it safely in the side pocket of my great coat before leaving the Adelaide Hotel, I feared that during the journey (owing to the fatigues of the day I had slept some time in the train) it might have been abstracted from my pocket.

After hunting in vain all about the room, I informed Mr. Giovanni and Mr. Brydes, the landlord of the hotel, of my loss, and those gentlemen immediately instituted inquiries. The news was soon known all through the hotel, and the crier was ordered to go round the town. I also dispatched T. G. to London, to make inquiries at the station and the hotel, lest by chance I had taken it out during my short visit at the London Bridge house, where I had been surrounded by a number of friends. While making a last search in the room, by accident I shook the heavy wooden frame of the bed, from which everything had been removed--bedding, beds, and all, but without success--to my astonishment and delight, I heard something fall. It was my lost pocket-book. I had thrown my great coat over me in the night (the weather being cold), and the book had worked its way out, and got between the frame of the bedstead and the wall. Upon this discovery I immediately telegraphed for T. G. to return, in these words: “Stop a gentleman of colour--it’s all right.”

On the arrival of the train at Tonbridge, the cry of “Stop the gentleman of colour” was loudly shouted along the station. “All right, all right,” cried T. G.; “here I am.” He immediately jumped into the special down train, and arrived time enough to save the steamer.

The quid pro quo of passengers as well as railway employés was, that the thief had been captured, and it served him right. I heard afterwards this was the exclamation of many at the time.

T. G.’s devotion was certainly not repaid, but, when explained at the hotel, the incident caused great mirth. This was our first tribulation, which, though unpleasant, had the merit of being the first germ of excitement.

The same morning, in a rough sea and heavy rain, we sailed for Boulogne-sur-Mer. The steamer was very much crowded with Crimean passengers, and almost every one paid the usual nautical debt to Neptune, looking more or less uninteresting. The beauty of the female part of the passengers had faded, and nothing but pale, livid faces remained, in place of the blooming, peach-like countenances. A very thick fog came on, and the speed of the steamer was of course checked. We progressed slowly through the opaque atmosphere and heavy rain. After we had made all the signals required, the steam-whistle was heard, and we found ourselves going ahead towards the round tower on the right hand side of the port, the sight of which seemed to astonish the crew of the vessel, and more so one of the passengers, an old gentleman, who exclaimed, “We are in the same position as the Amphitrite, which was wrecked in 1833, when above two hundred souls perished. A fisherman named Pierre Hénin distinguished himself so greatly on that occasion, that he was decorated by both countries--France and England.”

I observed, that the sea must have been about three times as rough at that time, and it was to be hoped, in case of danger, we should meet with several Pierre Hénins. However, by backing for about twenty minutes, and the fog clearing off by degrees, we arrived safely, but too late for the train. The jetty was rather crowded for that time of the year. Our delay and the fog had rendered our passage interesting--rather more so than pleasant. My intention was to take the first train, when, on reaching the jetty, who should I perceive but my friend M. Léon, the Emperor’s first valet-de-chambre, one of the persons that have been longest employed about his Majesty’s person, having been with him above sixteen years. He is much esteemed by his imperial master, none but himself approaching his person while in his private apartment. It is M. Léon who sleeps before the door of his illustrious master’s chamber while travelling, as the Mamelouk Roustan did before that of Napoleon the First. “Hollo!” he exclaimed, “are you here, my dear friend?”

“Yes, I am. What brings you here at this season? And where is his Majesty?” said I.

“You may depend upon it,” he replied, “that if the Emperor were not here, I should not be at Boulogne; but we have only come for a few days. The Emperor is going to attend a review to-morrow. I hear you are going to the Crimea.”

“Yes, I am.”

“So we saw by the newspapers, and the Emperor was much pleased to hear it, and expressed his satisfaction by no doubt thinking it was an excellent idea for you to be sent over there. When do you start?”

“Almost directly,” I replied.

“Stay here to-night. I will tell the Emperor you are here. Come and sup with me this evening.”

“Thank you, I will.” We then parted; I sending some of my attendants on to Paris. The implacable douaniers then commenced their perilous sport; and although, thanks to a friend of mine, I had an official passport from the French Embassy, signed by Count Walewski, two of my boxes containing my Shilling Cookery Books were confiscated till the next morning, but eventually allowed to pass free of duty, but not of trouble, and would have been the cause of my losing a day for nothing, had it not been that we were too late for the train. At ten minutes to seven o’clock, through a very heavy rain and a brisk gale, we arrived at the “Grand Hôtel du Pavilion,” which had just been finished, and was inhabited for the first time. This hotel is situated about five hundred yards from the Etablissement des Bains, at the foot of the bank, on the right hand side of that establishment. Any person who has visited Boulogne must be acquainted with the spot. It is rather remarkable that soon after the arrival of the Emperor--in fact, he only just had time to dress after his journey--an avalanche of earth fell from the top of the bank, shaking the very foundations of the hotel. At the back of the house the earth reached higher than the second floor, breaking the windows. Some of the débris actually fell into the Emperor’s dressing-room, only a few minutes after he had left it. The slip of earth was supposed to have been caused by the melting of the snow, which had lain there for some time, as well as the rain, which had been pouring down, night and day, for a week.

My friend was just sitting down to supper, when I joined them, it being then eight o’clock, heure militaire, punctuality being the motto in every department in the imperial household. Having introduced my secretary, T. G., the conversation turned upon the avalanche, then upon the grand repas de corps, as it is called in France, or military banquet, given that evening to the generals and officers of the Camp de Boulogne. But the most important part of the conversation was upon the contemplated departure of Napoleon for the East. He was to travel from Paris to Marseilles incog., with but very few of his suite. “Everything,” said M. Léon, “is packed and ready, and we may start at an hour’s notice. Your friend Benoit has already sent his batterie de cuisine, and a quantity of preserved provisions.” (M. Benoit is the Emperor’s chef de cuisine.)[6]

Whilst we were conversing, a footman entered, in a state of anxiety and excitement, and exclaimed--“There is not a single cigar, and the Emperor has asked for some.”

“Very well,” said the maître d’hôtel, “go and buy some.” In about half an hour he returned with a square box, three parts full of various kinds of cigars, which he had no doubt purchased at all the nearest grocers’ shops, clearing out their stock of French Havana cigars.

“Couldn’t you get better ones than these?” said the maître d’hôtel.

“No doubt I could, but not near.”

“Then, take them up.” He despatched another servant to the Rue de l’Ecu for a box of good ones, which arrived too late. Owing to a most unexpected circumstance, the company only had the opportunity of partaking of a few of them, for they scarcely had time to light cigars, when a telegraphic dispatch arrived. My friend M. Léon told one of the attendants to go and see if his Majesty had left the banqueting-room, and if he was in his cabinet. While this was passing, I took the dispatch in my hand, and by way of a joke, said to him, “As France and England are now allied, and have the same policy, I have here an official English Government letter, which, if you like, I will exchange for your dispatch.”

“It might be done,” said he, laughing; “but, upon consideration, the Emperor would very likely prefer his own.” The servant returned, and informed him that the Emperor was still at table. The dispatch remained about ten minutes longer near M. Léon, when they came and apprised him that Napoleon was in his cabinet. M. Léon went up with the dispatch, and in a few minutes returned, saying to me, “Do you know what the contents of the letter you wished to exchange for yours were?”

“Certainly not,” I replied.

“The contents are, that the Emperor Nicholas is dead.” Every one was thunderstruck by the unexpected announcement, and we could hardly believe it. “If you come up quickly, you will hear the Emperor himself announce it to the company in the banqueting-room.”

We obeyed, but only arrived in time to hear the last words--“a cessé de vivre.” Special orders were then given that no demonstration should be made, and a low and mournful conversational sound was alone heard amongst those assembled. A few minutes after leaving the imperial palace, a friend and myself were quietly taking our coffee at a celebrated establishment, and in conversation said loud enough to be heard by our neighbours, that certainly the death of the Emperor Nicholas was very likely to change the state of affairs, as the present Emperor, Alexander was, so we had always heard, rather a pacificator. Before we could finish the remark, an elderly gentleman, who was sitting near us, exclaimed, “What do you say? What do you say, sir?--the Emperor Nicholas dead?”

“Yes, sir, he is dead.”

“Go to ----, sir; that’s another Crimean shave, like the taking of Sebastopol.”

“Sir,” I replied, “I can vouch for this not being a shave, and that his Majesty, the Emperor Nicholas the First of Russia, expired yesterday; and what is more, I will lay you a wager of it.”

In a few minutes some jumped upon the chairs and benches, others upon the billiard-table, looking at me, no doubt anxious to see whether I was intoxicated or mad. One gentleman raising his voice, said, “I’ll bet anything this report is not true.”

“Done for a dozen of champagne.”

“I take you, and we will drink your health at your own expense.”

We scarcely had time to deposit our money with the lady who presided at the bar of the establishment when mine was again in my pocket. A number of officers who had returned from the banquet entered, and affirmed the truth of what I had stated. Nevertheless, no one could believe it; so I proposed returning my money to the stakeholder till the next morning, and turning the champagne into an early déjeuner à la fourchette.

At the custom-house the following morning I was detained, and reached twenty-five minutes behind the time appointed by my friend, and perhaps thereby lost the chance of a short interview with the Emperor, which made me bless the douaniers who were so long at their breakfast, and longer still in clearing my luggage. I found my friend M. Léon smoking his short pipe at the hotel door, with his hands in his pantalon à la cosaque, a type de troupier well worthy of the past and present empire; so I made sure his Majesty was off.

“Oh, here you are at last--a fine fellow truly, and very punctual indeed! Why, his Majesty has been gone this half-hour. I intimated you were still here, and he would probably have seen you; but mind, if you don’t look sharp, we shall be at Constantinople before you. You are sure to see his Majesty there, for the first thing he will do will be to visit all the hospitals, both French and English.”

“I am very glad to hear you say so, for the loss is on my side; but what can you do when you are in the hands of the authorities; if you recollect, the last time I was here, I fared worse, for I was locked up more than two hours for coming without a passport, fancying myself a true Briton, as they are allowed to land without any.”

“Then you really expect to go?” I again asked.

“Nothing can be more certain, when I tell you that everything is ready for our departure. I much regret missing so excellent an opportunity. When do you leave?”

This afternoon; our places are taken by telegraph at Marseilles through the War Office; and I shall only remain in Paris twenty-four hours, instead of two days, as I had anticipated.

Having related the scene at the café the previous evening, and invited him to the dejeuner, he declined attending it, on the ground that some unexpected news from Russia might cause his Majesty to return to Paris immediately.

“Do you mean to say,” I exclaimed, “that you had not heard of the Emperor Nicholas being indisposed previous to the arrival of the despatch which announced his death?”

“Oh, yes; we did hear last evening. This was the third dispatch we received yesterday, but we never dreamed of his dying till that one came.”

“Well, many thanks for your kindness, my dear friend; and I hope to see you at Scutari soon. I shall pay you a visit there.”

“Do,” said he; “I understand we shall have one of the Sultan’s palaces on the Bosphorus. Adieu!”

After the dejeuner, and a protracted journey to the Boulogne Camp, my friend and myself took the last train and arrived early in the morning at Paris. My first visit was to the military hospital of the Val de Grace, the Invalides, the Hôtel Dieu, &c. I was politely shown over each establishment by the authorities on duty, and took notes of all the ingredients used for the preparation of the daily diets of both officers and soldiers.

We started the same evening for Lyons, stayed a few hours there, and visited the military hospital at that place, and took the steamer to Avignon. On board we found the Smyrna ladies, about thirty in number, under the orders of Mrs. M. Cooke; there were also many doctors. I had seen them the day previous at the Hôtel des Princes, Rue Richelieu, but had not the slightest knowledge of who or what they were. As the ladies were all dressed in grey, I took them for Quakeresses upon a pilgrimage.

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V. COMFORT ON SHORE AND PENANCE AT SEA

Tour of inspection at Marseilles--The booking office--Sleeping upon deck--Places transferred--The bouillabaisse--The Olio--Marseilles dishes--A harrowing spectacle--The Simois--A pleasant prospect--Good ballast--The Bay of Ajaccio--Compagnons de voyage--Birthplace of the first Napoleon--La Signora Grossetti--Twenty minutes in the kitchen of the house of the Emperor Napoleon the First--Memorials of the Emperor’s childhood--A charming evening--Once more afloat--An enraged restaurateur--Struggle for a leg of mutton--Messina--The Piræus--Athens.

On arriving at Marseilles, I made inquiries at the Station as to what provisions could be obtained for the army, if required. I bade my friends adieu, in hopes of having the pleasure of seeing them on board the next day, and in particular Mr. and Mrs. Cooke, who really took their duty to heart, and had a most difficult task to perform. After viewing all the magazines of Marseilles and its warehouses, I perceived that my countrymen, in the way of national business, were very little boys, who could hardly walk, when compared with English commercial men and the houses of Crosse and Blackwell, Fortnum and Mason, Hogarth, Gamble, &c. Having done my duty, so far as the victualling department was concerned, I found that with such a stock of provisions any Government might keep its army in a state of perfect starvation--should the French Government depend upon them--though at the same time the quantity and quality might have served very well for a dainty pic-nic of a couple of thousand epicures, the price also being so high.

Passing by the Bureau des Messageries Impériales, I called in to see about our places for the next day. I found an old friend, of fifteen years’ standing at least, at the head of that department. “Ho! pardieu,” said he, “I thought it was you, having seen several paragraphs respecting your departure for the Crimea. I was afraid at one time you would have gone by sea. I have two first cabin berths for you to-morrow; but as you are a very gallant man, you will not mind sleeping upon deck from here to Smyrna.”

“Sleeping upon deck! what do you mean? My places have been taken this week past.”

“I know that--I have two first-cabin berths for you. How many cooks and attendants have you got with you?”

“We are about eight in number.”

“Oh, I can manage them then; although I assure you we are cramped everywhere.”

“What do you mean by my sleeping upon deck?”

“Why, because if you don’t, some of those ladies who are going to Smyrna must. Four of them must sleep upon deck, as all the places are taken; and I am sure you are too gallant to allow them to sleep in the open air while you remain snug in your cabin. Tell me, are you obliged to start with them?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then, wait for the next boat; it will not make forty-eight hours’ difference, and you will be very comfortable. You will go by Messina and Athens, and be there nearly as soon. Moreover, you will be rendering a great service to those ladies; besides, we should pack five or six persons in your cabin.”

“Very well, transfer our places.”

“The next vessel is quite new, and it will be her first voyage. She is most handsomely fitted up, and you will meet with capital company on board. All the first cabins are taken by English and French officers; you are sure to know some of them.”

“Very well; at what time shall we be here?”

“Be ready the day after to-morrow, about three P.M., at the Hôtel d’Orient, where you are staying. I will send some men with a few cabs. Mind you have all your luggage ready.”

“I will. Many thanks for your kindness.”

The next day, after visiting several public institutions, I was very desirous to taste an excellent dish called the bouillabaisse, which is exclusively a Marseillaise dish, as turtle-soup and roast beef and plum-pudding are essentially English. I therefore invited a few friends to that far-famed place, the “Reserve.” Among my guests, I had the pleasure of numbering a most eminent, amiable, and gallant gentleman, Captain Taunton, who, a few weeks previous, I heard, had the temerity to run his ship, the Fury, so close to the port of Sebastopol, that a round shot passed through her beam.

The Captain, my friend M. Giraldo, and myself, formed the trio of degustators of the Grand Provençale dish called the bouillabaisse, as well as another celebrated one called the olio. The first one I, with veneration and justice, recognised as worthy of being immortalized in the archives of cookery. The olio, like many of its companions, so admired by the Marseillais, is only to be appreciated by the inhabitants of that city, who must have sprung from a bed of garlic, instead of that more genteel and more sweetly-perfumed one, the parsley-bed--so well known to the juveniles, who are made to believe they were found ruralizing amidst that delicate aromatic plant.

The bouillabaisse pertains to Marseilles, as the whitebait to Greenwich and Blackwall. Even at Marseilles it is only at a few houses that you can get it in perfection, among which the celebrated “Restaurant de la Reserve” ranks as A 1, and next, the “Grand Hôtel des Colonies.”

After all, the “Reserve” is the principal place. This beautiful and picturesque restaurant, with its pavilion and slim turrets, is gracefully situated on the top of the high rock at the entrance of the old seaport. When required, the proprietor procures the particular fish alive, at the threshold of his door, and shell-fish required for the composition of this dainty dish.[7] In less than an hour--during which time we had partaken of a few small oysters, and some shell-fish peculiar to Marseilles--the bouillabaisse was upon the table, smoking hot, and perfuming the room with its aroma.

Although the bouillabaisse can be made with any kind of firm fish, in all countries, and at all seasons of the year, I should be deceiving my readers were I to say that it could be made in the same perfection as at Marseilles; nevertheless, it can be made good if the receipt is closely followed. The choice of fish for the purpose in England, although not as suitable as those of the Marseillaise coast, being of a different nature, will still produce an excellent, dainty dish.

Though this petit déjeuner was very recherché, the bouillabaisse threw all the accessory dishes into the shade. The landlord, who favoured us with his company at dessert, informed me he made it himself; and at my request, favoured me with the receipt, and the names of the fish composing it.

I returned my best thanks for the condescension and trouble on his part in so doing.

“Ah, Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “you may thank your name for that. I have often seen you mentioned in our papers, and should have been sorry if you had left our seaport without tasting our national dish in perfection.” He observed, in handing it to me, “You are, of course, aware that this dish cannot be made except at a seaport.”

“I am well aware of that fact,” I answered, “and that this semi-soup and stew ought, by right, to be made at a seaport; nevertheless, the finest seaport I have ever seen in England, and I might say in the world, for fish, is London; therefore, my dear sir, give me the receipt, and I shall, no doubt, fish out the fish from a good quarter.”

ORIGINAL RECEIPT FOR THE BOUILLABAISSE A LA MARSEILLAISE.

Before entering upon details, I will specify the different kinds of fish most applicable. They are of two classes: one acting as a mucilaginous agent, the other merely imparting the flavour; also an essential point. The first class comprises--whitings, loups or lupins, red mullets, soles, and turbots. The second--gurnets, boudroies or boudreuils, lobsters or cray-fish, sea toads or rascasses, galinettes, limbers, lazagnes or lucrèces. These latter are plentiful in the Mediterranean seas.

As a general rule, this ragoût should be cooked in a stewpan, rather broad than deep, and of thin metal, in order to the ebullition proceeding quickly. Those in tin or thin iron are the most appropriate, as the concoction must be done in a few minutes, and with such rapidity that the liquor must be reduced to the necessary point by the time the fish is cooked. It should also be sent to table and eaten at once, as the shortest delay will cause the quality to deteriorate. The principal fish must be cut in pieces or slices sufficiently sized to serve each guest; the others being merely accessories.

RECEIPT.--Slice up two large onions, place them in a stewpan as before mentioned, wide but not deep, and of thin metal, add a few spoonfuls of olive oil, and fry the onions of a pale brown colour. Next, place the pieces of fish in the pan, cover them with warm water, but no more than the depth of the contents; add salt, “in moderation,” half a bay leaf, the flesh of half a lemon, without pips or rind, two tomatoes cut in dice, after extracting the seeds, a small tumbler of light white wine, a few peppercorns, and four cloves of garlic. Set on a fierce stove and boil for twelve minutes; by this time the liquor should be reduced to a third of its original quantity. Add a small portion of saffron, a table-spoonful of chopped parsley, allow it to boil a few seconds longer, taste, and correct the seasoning, if required, and remove from the fire.

During this process you should have prepared two dozen of slices of light French bread or penny-roll, about half an inch in thickness, which place in a tureen or dish, pour over them some of the liquor from the ragoût, let it soak a minute or so, and again pour over in order to soak the top as well as the bottom of the layers of bread. Dish up separately the best pieces of fish with the remaining liquor, and serve.

The variation called Bourride, differs in this only, viz., the addition of seven or eight yolks of eggs to a good portion of the liquor, which is stirred quickly over the fire till of the consistence of a custard cream, and then poured upon the slices of bread, with the addition of a tablespoonful of eau d’ail, or ayoli.

The eau d’ail or ayoli is prepared by crushing several cloves of garlic, and saturating them with water; adding the requisite quantity to the bourride.

My reason for printing this receipt, although partly impracticable in England, is, that it is the original as given to me by the worthy host of the “Reserve,” as so successfully made by him.

But as many of the fish required are not to be obtained in England, and the quantity of garlic used would be objectionable to an English palate, I beg to refer my readers to the Addenda for a Bouillabaisse à l’Anglaise, which possesses two great qualities:--firstly, to suit the palate of the gourmet; secondly, that of being very strengthening. The broth is very generous and wholesome for the invalid,--for the authenticity of which assertion I appeal to the faculty.

Giraldo now informed us it was past three o’clock, and that we must be on board by half-past six at latest. So shortly after, much to our regret, we left our worthy landlord and his sanctorum of good cheer, and at half-past four left the Hôtel d’Orient to go on board the steamer, accompanied by the gallant Captain Taunton, Mr. Giraldo, and a few other friends.

Upon arriving at the docks, a most painful sight fell under our notice; it was indeed a spectacle calculated to pain the soul of the greatest philosopher. The quays round the harbour were thickly lined with sick and wounded. There were about seven or eight hundred, who had just been landed from two French steamers, one from Constantinople, the other from the Crimea. Some were placed upon straw, others upon bedding, until they could be removed to the hospital, according to the nature of their cases. Their appearance, I regret to say, was more than indescribable. All the afflictions so common to the fate of war seemed to have met and fallen at once upon those brave fellows, who, a few months previous, were the pride of their country. Many of them, to their sorrow, had not enjoyed a chance of facing the enemy; while those who were wounded looked joyful compared with those who were the victims of epidemics--typhus fever, diarrhœa, dysentery, cholera, or frostbites. I conversed with several; not one complained, but merely regretted the friends who had died on the passage and those sick left behind, and bewailed that they had done so little for their country in the campaign. Mr. Giraldo, who had superintended the disembarkation, informed me that such scenes were of daily occurrence at Marseilles; adding, this must be very encouraging for you. Saying also in irony, “lend soldiers to the Turks--how well they thrive under the banner of Mahomet! Well, well, my dear sir, after all, this is nothing more than the fortune of war: ‘à la guerre comme à la guerre.’”

This was the first disastrous sight I witnessed in this great war, and though anything but encouraging, merely grated upon my sensibility, without in the least affecting my mind. I must say T. G. showed much firmness upon this solemn occasion, which firmness rather failed him afterwards.

At five we were on the deck of the Simois, the name of our vessel. It was her first trip, she having only arrived a few days previous from Liverpool. All on board was in great confusion; a part of the vessel had just taken fire, and the sailors were engaged putting it out, and cutting away the burning portions; however, it was soon extinguished. We then learnt, that upon coming into dock she had met with serious damage, which they had scarcely had time to repair, and the painters were still on board busily employed varnishing the first cabin. I was next told that about four hundred troops, who were expected, had not arrived, and that we should start without them. A lady, who was standing by, exclaimed, “Oh, thank God for that! I cannot bear soldiers.”

“I thought,” I said, “it was a very bad job instead of a good one, as the vessel would be crank, through not being sufficiently loaded, and would in consequence roll very much.”

The weather being reported very rough outside, we were in suspense as to whether we should leave that night or not. On a sudden the screw slowly commenced its evolutions, and propelled us, not without difficulty, from the narrow port to the wide ocean--passing amongst huge rocks, on the very summit of which the furious waves were breaking. The evening was fast advancing, and the vessel was already rolling very heavily. We soon made the rock of Monte Christo, immortalized by Dumas. A yellowish sunset, piercing the heavy rain, faintly lighted the crest of this arid and uninhabitable spot. Shortly after, all was darkness, and many retired. Two or three remained till about ten o’clock, when the steward cheerfully informed us, that the weather was about the same as when the Semillante was lost ten days before, and not a soul escaped. Nearly five hundred troops, besides passengers and crew, were drowned.

“Was she bound eastward?” inquired a passenger.

“Yes, sir, she was; we are steering the same course, but there is another passage. I hope we shall get through before night to-morrow, and if the sea holds as rough as it is now, no doubt we shall take the other.”

We all turned into our berths, laughing at his mournful tale. Before going, I said: “Believe me, steward, we are safer than ever, for you seldom hear of two accidents alike.”

“Very true, sir; but this boat seems unlucky. I can’t tell you all the mishaps we have had in her since I have been on board, and that is only one month.” She was then rolling at a tremendous rate. At each plunge, a fearful noise was heard. Upon inquiry, some one on board informed me that he believed they had projectiles for ballast, and these were rolling and shifting at each plunge the steamer made. Such a cargo, though quite in harmony with the martial trip, was anything but pleasing. Everything rolled and tumbled about fearfully during the whole of the night. At length day broke, with a glowing sun and a heavy sea running mountains high; so much so, that it was dangerous to attempt the passage. Such must have been the case, as the mail-boats are not allowed to stop except in cases of extreme danger. Our careful commander gave orders to bring up in the Bay of Ajaccio. After sixteen hours’ flirtation on the wild ocean, we entered this calm and peaceable port, much to the relief of all. We then collected round the table; and while partaking of a light lunch, we had time to become acquainted with each other. Among our compagnons de voyage were General Cannon, Captain Arbuckle, Colonel St. George, of the Artillery, Captain Ponsonby, Major Turner, Captain Gordon, ---- Murrogh, Esq., ---- Ball, Esq., the Queen’s Messenger, and three or four French officers, among whom was Captain Boucher, aide-de-camp to General Canrobert, and afterwards to General Bosquet. After some remarks upon our unfavourable start, we all blessed our stars for the shelter we were then enjoying in the peaceable harbour, so picturesquely surrounded by its beautiful petite ville, the cradle of the first Napoleon--Ajaccio--so well situated in that savage and energetic island of poetically ferocious heroism, habits, and eternal vendettas, so interesting to all since the revival of that illustrious dynasty in the person of Napoleon the Third.

All of course were anxious to visit this celebrated spot; and on inquiring of the commander, he told us he should sail the next morning early if the weather was more favourable. We formed ourselves into parties of five or six, and as it was only three o’clock, we had plenty of time before us: our greatest anxiety was to visit the house in which the great Napoleon was born. Our party arrived first, as we had a very clever guide, who promised if possible to introduce us to La Signora Grossetti, saying we should have a great treat, as the old lady, who was then eighty-three years of age, had been all her life in the Buonaparte family in Corsica. We luckily met the old lady just coming out, and upon being introduced, she immediately returned to do us the honours of the house. She has been housekeeper there for above thirty years. After visiting the apartments which are always on view--viz., the drawing-room, dining-room, concert and ball room, library, and the small bed-room in which that almost fabulous hero was born, I asked the old gentlewoman, as a special favour, to show me the kitchen. No one was ever more astonished than she appeared to be at my request. “Why, surely there is nothing to be seen there but ruins, and I don’t even know where the key is.”

All this redoubled my interest. We went up stairs, and found in an old drawer three rusty keys, which we brought down; one of them opened the door, which, on being pushed rather forcibly, fell from its hinges. We then descended, and opened the shutters, which likewise tumbled from their fastenings. After visiting the various departments which constitute a gentleman’s kitchen, I wrote upon the stove the following letter to the public press, which, through the mismanagement of my servant, who threw it into the post without paying the postage, never reached its destination:--

Twenty Minutes in the Kitchen of the House of the Emperor Napoleon the First.

MR. EDITOR,--It is an incontestable truism that “It is an ill wind that blows nobody good;” but in this case it will be found the reverse. Owing to most terribly rough weather, in fourteen hours from our departure from Marseilles, en route to Constantinople, we are brought up here by our prudent Captain, sheltering us in the bosom of the harbour of Ajaccio, the birthplace of the alliance now existing between the two great nations of France and England. Such reminiscences of the first of the great Napoleon’s family caused the shore to be invaded in a few minutes by the numerous passengers, particularly the distinguished military men of both nations. Many visited the Hôtel de Ville, full of objects of interest, reminding one of the late empire; others, the Letitia House; and some inquired, with great coolness, if it were possible to see either of the Corsican Brothers now in existence. In a very few minutes my curiosity was gratified by a cursory examination of the above-mentioned interesting subjects; and by a great deal of courtesy and perseverance, I obtained from La Signora Grossetti (who had been in the late Emperor’s family from her infancy) the rusted key of the kitchen-door of that interesting and now deserted domicile--such a request having never before been made by the numerous travellers who daily visit it.

And it is, Mr. Editor, while writing upon the stove in this celebrated kitchen--which first alimented the brain of that great hero--that I beg to address you the following few lines at random, as the weather bids fair and our departure is immediate. On my left hand is a well-constructed charcoal stove, containing six nine-inch square cooking-places, covered with glazed red tiles (a piece of which I have procured, and intend placing in my kitchen at Scutari); an oval one, about eighteen inches long by about six inches wide, on which the most delicious fish, game, meat, and poultry, were no doubt submitted to the highest perfection of the culinary art. At the spot at which I am now writing, the roasting by wood fire, and the broiling by red ashes, were carried on, as I perceive, by the remains of the hearth. There is also the old Jack, with the pulley that supported the rope and weights. On my right is an old semi-circular oven, partly in ruins, with an old-fashioned wrought-iron door, in which no doubt the cakes and choice pastry were prepared to gratify the imperial infant’s palate. Larders, confectionery, and all the requisite appointments of a kitchen are not wanting; which, though in a most dilapidated state, still left an appearance of grandeur which none but a family of distinction could afford--very different from what has been often reported and believed by the vulgar--viz., that this great man had his origin in the bosom of an indigent family.

With the highest consideration, believe me, Mr. Editor, yours very faithfully,

A. SOYER.

March 13, 1855.

The old lady seemed much pleased with the very extraordinary interest I took in the place, and proposed to show us her private apartment at the top of the house, which she assured us was full of reminiscences of the Emperor’s childhood. His wooden arm-chair and desk, inkstand, and a few boy’s toys--such as a small gun, soldiers, shako, &c.--are carefully preserved by the old and faithful servant of her illustrious master. Though of great age, she was very animated, and made all sorts of inquiries about the war, and if we had seen the present Emperor; having satisfied her curiosity, we retired, highly pleased with our visit to Ajaccio.

We were much indebted to La Signora Grossetti, who had really shown us things that no former traveller could boast of having seen. I could not part with the old dame without saluting her on both cheeks, which she very kindly returned, it being the custom of the country, as she said. This scene terminated, much to the surprise and enjoyment of my compagnons de voyage--Captain Gordon and Mr. Munro of the Ordnance, with several French officers--our interview with that kind and extraordinary lady.

I had taken (as I mentioned in my letter) a piece of tile from the charcoal stove, and a rough wooden meat-hook which I found in the larder, dating, as the Signora told me, from that epoch. Our time being short, and the night rapidly approaching, we re-embarked, and related, to the great delight of all, our amorous adventure with the nurse of the first Napoleon. All regretted not having been of our party. We spent a very charming evening on board, each one relating what he had seen. The Town Hall, I must observe, is very interesting, being filled with relics of the Buonaparte family, with full-length portraits of the father and mother of the Emperor. I was also much pleased at seeing one of the best statuettes of the late arbiter elegantiarum, the celebrated Count D’Orsay, given by him to the present Emperor for the town of Ajaccio. It is the well-known statuette of Napoleon the First on horseback; and in a frame beside it is the original letter of presentation written by the Count himself, which I can vouch for, “having many of his letters in my possession.” The style is so charming, that I regret not having had time to take a copy.

Next morning, with a fresh breeze, bright sun, and a clear sky, we left this immortal and delightful spot, where avenues of orange-trees, loaded with ripe fruit, ornament both sides of the streets; and at the same time, “by the bizarrerie of nature,” the chain of mountains which surround this romantic spot are always covered with snow. In ten minutes we were again launched upon the wide ocean. Though the sea was not so rough, the waves dashed about furiously, and made the vessel roll even more than the day before. This is always the case after a gale. We were all much amused at the restaurateur of the steamer, who kept cursing everybody, because all his glass and crockery were smashed to pieces; and all because, as he declared, the vessel had started before she had been properly fitted up. The Captain, in trying to soothe him, drove him raving mad, and he commenced throwing overboard all the plates, dishes, and glass on which he could lay his hands. At length he caught hold of a leg of mutton, and was about to serve it in the same manner. I happened to be near him, and not quite approving of casting good victuals overboard while at sea, I took upon myself to object to this part of his proceedings. I was the more induced to do this because I had promised my illustrious compagnons de voyage to look after the cook and his cooking, with which he really took much pains, and gave us great satisfaction. The infuriated Marseillais poured a volley of the most foul language in his Provençal dialect, while he and I were holding the doomed leg of mutton. He then asked me who I was?

“A passenger,” I replied; “and one who has a most decided objection to your feeding the fish--with legs of mutton,” I continued, boldly. He then gave it up; and, in acknowledging he was in the wrong, exclaimed, at the top of his voice, “I wish you no harm, but I should be highly pleased if you and all in the steamer were at the bottom of the sea.”

“Wherefore?”

“You ask me wherefore! Because I shall lose above a thousand francs.”

“The directors will make that up,” I said.

“Not a sous,” said he.

The comical part of this scene was enhanced by the continual rolling of the ship.

This incident kept us alive till we reached Messina. The following letter, addressed to the Illustrated London News, will explain my subsequent proceedings:--

ACROPOLIS, ATHENS, March 18.

Having left Marseilles, on the 12th inst., for Constantinople, in the prosecution of my mission to the Hospital at Scutari, owing to a sudden and unexpected change from a beautifully calm to a rough and stormy sea, M. Favre, the captain of our vessel (the Simois), was compelled to seek shelter in the peaceable harbour of Ajaccio, in Corsica, the birthplace of the immortal Emperor Napoleon I. Since our departure from that celebrated port, a favourable breeze succeeding a most tempestuous gale, soon brought us alongside the Levrazzi Rocks, on which the French frigate Semillante was wrecked a few weeks ago, and all her passengers and crew lost. At night we were gratified with the sight of a slight eruption of the Stromboli Mountain, which rises immediately from the ocean to the height of several thousand feet. Next morning we arrived at Messina, the spring garden of Sicily, where, in the open air, orange and lemon trees were in full blossom, and covered with delicious fruit. Lilies, roses, and violets perfume the air; whilst peas, beans, artichokes, and asparagus are gathered at the foot of the lofty mountains covered with snow. Although Messina is well known to travellers, yet they are not so well acquainted with the productions of its early spring. After a few hours’ ramble in this interesting city, our party embarked, and rapidly passed on our left the small but pretty town of Reggio, and on our right the mighty Mount Ætna, covered with deep snow. In less than forty-seven hours the Simois brought us before the Piræus, the voyage never before having been accomplished under fifty.

The Simois is an English vessel, built at Liverpool by Mr. Layward, and recently purchased by the Messageries Impériales, and this is her first voyage in this sea. From the unexpected quickness of our passage, we were allowed to remain at this port four hours, and availed ourselves of the opportunity of visiting Athens. At the present time, in the ancient Parthenon, I am cooking, with my new camp-stove, on a fallen capital of the stupendous ruins, a petit déjeûner à la fourchette, with Greek and Sicilian wines, for my distinguished fellow-travellers; amongst whom are General Cannon (Behram Pacha); Colonel St. George, of the Woolwich Artillery; Captain Gordon; Captains Turner and Ponsonby; G. Munro, Esq.; W. S. Ball, Esq., Q.F.M.S.; Captain Arbuckle; Captain Boucher, Aide-de-camp of General Canrobert; and Signor Pitaki, the Governor of the Acropolis.

We shall speedily re-embark for Constantinople.

A. SOYER.

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VI. THE LAND OF THE MOSLEM

Departure from Greece--Amusements at sea--The Dardanelles--Gallipoli--A philharmonic soirée--Approach to the Bosphorus--First view of the Scutari Hospital--Reflections--The deserted steamer--The lady and her maid--Beautiful scene--The Golden Horn--Castle of the Seven Towers--Kadikoi--General and Barrack Hospitals--Grand panorama--Various edifices--Stamboul--Grand Oriental pageant--The Sultan’s kitchens--The Harem--Punishment for Turkish ladies--The Leander Tower--A romantic tale--On shore again--The enchantment dissolves--First glimpse of a pacha--The terrace of my hotel.

On leaving the Piræsus the weather was fine, and the sea as smooth as a lake. All our party were themselves again--jovial, happy, and talkative at meals; reading, writing, games at cards, draughts, dominoes, &c., filling up the time. We were like one happy and united family. I paid my daily visit to the restaurateur and his chef, with whom I was soon on good terms. Towards evening, we collected on the upper deck, where many French sous-officiers from the second-class cabin joined us, and sang most admirably, from the simple ballad to the gay gaudriole, the high operatic solo, and comic or classic choruses.

Next morning, we passed the straits and town of the Dardanelles, where the Allied flags were gaily floating from the houses of the respective Consulates. We made but a short stay in its cheerful and animated bay to deliver the mail. The rapid current, with the numbers of Greeks, in their gay costumes and slim caiques, trying to sell the passengers all sorts of things, and so do them out of a few piastres, rendered our short stay at that place highly amusing. Our next and last stay, before reaching Constantinople, was Gallipoli, where every one of our party landed, and remained on shore about an hour. General Cannon had an excellent idea; he sent some oysters on board, which made a good addition to our bill of fare. The Gallipoli oysters are small and ill-formed, but very sweet. The same cannot be said of the town and its inhabitants--both extremely dirty. Indeed, this first Oriental seaport contrasts most outrageously with the grand paraphernalia of the “Arabian Nights.” The evening before our arrival, to our sorrow, we learnt from the Captain that, owing to the favourable winds we had experienced during the last sixty hours, if nothing happened, we should enter the Bosphorus before daybreak. Thus all chance of the view of the grand panorama of Constantine, so highly praised by travellers, and especially by poets, which we had so long anticipated, was entirely lost. What can be more charming and refreshing, after a long sea-passage, where life has long been suspended in space between heaven and the mighty deep, than the gradual development of a cheerful panorama, a view of which we had been some time anticipating?

The first quarter of the moon, forming the crescent--the favourite emblem of the Moslem--was seen now and then peeping through the murky clouds, which, in their swift career, cast a dewy shadow upon the ocean. This did not, however, prevent our philharmonic party from mustering upon deck in greater numbers than on previous occasions, probably because it was the last. We kept it up till eleven o’clock, and then retired perfectly delighted with our voyage, having already forgotten our unfavourable departure, and regretting nothing but our too-early arrival in the Bosphorus. The night was calm, and, on going on deck at daybreak, I heard, to my great satisfaction, that we had proceeded very slowly all night, there having been a thick fog, which was slowly disappearing--“a thing,” said the Captain, “seldom seen in the sea of Marmora.” I returned to my cabin, and only lay down that I might be ready when Constantinople came in sight, as the Captain had promised to send and let me know.

About eight in the morning every one was on deck, and the crew busily engaged getting up the luggage, as our arrival was fixed for nine o’clock. We then commenced inquiring about the hotels. All fixed upon Messerie’s hotel, called “L’Hôtel d’Angleterre,” as being the best. By this time, we were slowly approaching the mouth of the Bosphorus. The weather was anything but favourable--rain kept falling--everything on deck was wet, and the air very chilly. General Cannon said to me, “I am very sorry, Mr. Soyer, for your sake, and that of Captain Ponsonby and Colonel St. George, that we shall not see the famed view of Constantinople to advantage. I have already witnessed it, this being my third voyage. However, as the weather is very changeable here, it may be a fine day after all.” The great Oriental City was then opening to view, but, owing to the thick atmosphere, appeared nothing but a confused mass. Twenty minutes later we were entering the Bosphorus, the grandeur and magnificence of which, though often described, I cannot pass without a few remarks.

My mind was quite overpowered when I learnt that the monster building before us was the Scutari Hospital--a town in itself--and I reflected that it was full of sick and wounded; that each patient would require from three to four articles of diet daily, making a total of several thousand per diem to be provided in some shape or other; and that I had undertaken to reform and introduce a better organization in the cooking department, where all was confusion, in so strange a country. I must confess that, for an hour or so, I was quite at a loss to think how I should commence operations. I did not know one official there. I had not the least idea how I should be received; and, after all, I might probably catch the fever, or some other complaint at the time raging within its walls. Suddenly I recollected the plan I had explained to the Duchess of Sutherland and her noble circle, which was to be tried upon a hundred patients. This had entirely escaped my memory; and in a few minutes my puzzled brain was as clear as a bell, and I felt confident of success. “If I succeed with a hundred,” said I, “in a very short time I can manage a thousand, providing I meet with proper support.”

I afterwards learnt from the doctor on board, that the large red brick building on the right, about half a mile from the Barrack Hospital, was called the General Hospital, in which there were at least five or six hundred patients. My resolution as to how I should act was then fixed; nothing appeared difficult to me; and, instead of fearing the undertaking, I was most anxious to begin. Having been advised to call at Pera, to announce my arrival, and pay my duty to Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, before going to Scutari, I ordered my people to go on shore as soon as possible; for, during my reverie upon hospital duties, our good vessel had anchored.

There was only room at Messerie’s Hotel for General Cannon and his aide-de-camp. He had bespoken his apartments. Two young gentlemen apprised us of the fact, and recommended their hotel, as we could not get accommodation at the “Hôtel d’Angleterre.” As I had a letter of introduction to Mr. Messerie, I directed my friend T. G. to call there and make inquiries; and if he found that we could not be received, to go to the “Hôtel des Ambassadeurs,” that establishment being the next in standing. As I promised to remain on board till he returned, I was left almost alone. There was only a lady and her maid. The former was going by a transport-ship the same evening, to join her husband at Balaklava; she therefore had no time to go on shore. Colonel St. George, Captains Ponsonby and Gordon, Mr. Ball, and General Canrobert’s aides-de-camp, and others, had all left.

By this time the weather had assumed a most brilliant aspect--the morose and monotonous-looking clouds, which before monopolised the region in the immediate vicinity of the famed city of Mahomet, had been chased away by a strong breeze; the sun shed his golden rays in gorgeous streams from the purple vault of heaven, and the utmost depths of the lucid waters of the Bosphorus reflected his splendours. The entrance of the Corne d’Or--so called, no doubt, because it takes the shape of a horn of plenty--is in truth a Golden Horn, from the facilities it affords for maritime and commercial intercourse, as well as navigation, penetrating, as it does, into the very bosom of the imperial city. Constantinople, like London, has no quays; and on every side this immense metropolis plunges its feet, or banks, into the Bosphorus, from which it rises, offering to the view the most magnificent spectacle beneath the canopy of heaven. This is particularly the case from the Seraglio Point, where the real city of Istamboul is seated. The soil rises from the level of the water, presenting a vast amphitheatre of myriads of houses, mosques, minarets, and monuments of all descriptions, intermixed with forests of sombre cypress trees.

A dragoman whom I engaged, and who spoke very good English, gave me a description of the surrounding scenery. Nothing can be more ravishing than the living panorama of the Bosphorus, covered with caiques and their caidjees, darting about on all sides like water-flies. The elegance of those frail barks, and the cleanliness of the light and cheerful costume of their owners, so well develops the Oriental style, that it cannot fail in forcibly striking every stranger. Numerous large sailing-vessels, steamboats, Greek and Turkish barques, and even men-of-war (many being then stationed in the Golden Horn), made me forget for some time my mobile panorama, to dwell upon the nautical one, which, so new to me, unexpectedly attracted my attention, when my dragoman informed me that it was near eleven o’clock, and that my men had returned for the luggage.

“Very well,” said I; “but pray explain to me the various places by which we are now surrounded.”

“Certainly, sir, with great pleasure. I know every spot, palace, and monument. On entering the Bosphorus this morning, you passed before the Castle of the Seven Towers, where the ambassadors were formerly imprisoned. Those islands to the left are the Isles des Princes. All the Europeans go and spend their Sundays there. In summer many reside there, and come to business in the morning, returning at night.”

“Those hills yonder, I suppose, are very pretty?”

“Oh, very much so indeed. Almost facing them is the Asiatic shore: that pretty place to the left is called Kadikoi--a very pretty summer residence, inhabited by rich merchants, particularly Greeks and Armenians. It is full of beautiful houses and gardens, and is much celebrated for its fine fruits. A little further this way is the General Hospital--that red brick building.”

“That I am aware of. And the other is the great Barrack Hospital, with its hundreds of windows and four square towers. They are full of English sick and wounded--that I of course knew.”

“Next to it is a splendid mosque called the Sultan’s mosque. It is frequented by his Majesty when he resides at his summer kiosque of Hyder Pacha. That forest of cypress trees is the grand Champ des Morts, or the favourite Turkish cemetery. It extends several miles. Several generations are buried there.”

“Well, what follows?”

“This beautiful and picturesque spot, sir, is called Scutari. It is full of kiosques and Turkish families, pachas, &c. It contains about a hundred thousand inhabitants, almost all Turks, and extends beyond the front of the Sultan’s new palace of Dolma Bachi. You can see it from here. It is not quite finished, and is constructed chiefly of white marble. Lower down is a palace inhabited by the Sultan. It is lighted by gas--quite a new thing in Constantinople. That large building above, on the heights, is the grand hospital of Pera, now used by the French; and all the neighbourhood as far as the pointed tower is called Pera, the Christian quarter, where are the foreign embassies and foreign merchants’ residences. The large yellowish building with the colonnade you see facing us so boldly is the Russian Embassy. They are about to convert it into a hospital for the sick French officers. The beautiful mosque and large square you see at the bottom is called Tophané. It contains a large cannon-foundry; and in the centre of the square is the kiosque belonging to the Sultan’s brother. His Majesty frequently visits this place when he attends his favourite mosque.

“This large tower is called the Galata Tower, and from the top the fire-signal is made; and I can assure you that in the winter its guardians have something to do, as there is a fire every day or night. Lower down, towards the bridge, is called Galata, where all mercantile and commercial, as well as naval, business is transacted. Every rich merchant of Pera has a counting-house there. The building at the bottom is the Custom-house, or, as it should be called, the confusion-house; for if unfortunately you get goods in, ‘tis a hundred to one if you ever get them out again. The rough bridge you see yonder has only existed these last twenty years. Before that was built, people were obliged to cross from Stamboul to the European shore in caiques; and now, when three or four large vessels have to pass through the bridge, it remains open for several hours, keeping passengers waiting for that time. Two more light bridges lower down cross the Golden Horn, and the navigation terminates about two miles above the last bridge. In caiques you can go as far as the sweet waters of Europe, which are about five miles further up.”

“Thank you,” said I; “pray be less prolix in your descriptions.”

“Well, now, sir, as we are come to Stamboul, or the real city of Constantinople, allow me to explain to you the names of some of those beautiful mosques with which you see this vast city is crowded. The first and most important is the Mosque of Sultan Bajazid, very remarkable for the number of its volatile inhabitants, consisting of several thousands of beautiful tame pigeons. That high tower behind it is called the Seraskier’s Tower, and also serves the purpose of a signal-tower in case of fire, the same as that of Pera. Then follow the mosques of Sultan Selim, Mahomet, Sedya Tamissi, Solimaniek, Bayazid, Osmanliek, Sultan Achmet, Irene, and the great Saint Sophia, which I would in particular advise you to visit.”

“Of course I shall do that, you may be certain.”

“On the prominent part of this side of Saint Sophia the ceremony of the Bairam is celebrated, at the close of the great feast of the Ramazan. All the nobility of the Empire are in duty bound to appear in new and most gaudy costumes at this magnificent Oriental pageant, which this year will take place at the end of June, at about three o’clock in the morning.”

“What a singular hour for so great a ceremony!” I remarked.

“Oh, that cannot be helped,” he replied, “as it is regulated by the revolution of the moon. An old Turk, with whom I am well acquainted, told me that he recollected its having happened at twelve o’clock in the day, and in the middle of winter.”

“A strange custom,” said I.

“Well, sir, if you feel interested in Turkish habits and religion, you should inquire about the six weeks of Rhamadhan, when they starve all day, and get intoxicated to madness at night.”

“Thank you for your information; but pray continue your description.”

“I will. Near the very spot where this festival takes place is the Sultan Mahmoud’s palace, the top of which you can see through those high trees.”

“Pray, what are those rows of small domes, like well-corked bottles?”

“They are the kitchen chimneys.”

“What, all of them?”

“Yes, sir; I have often been there, and know well enough that, although the Sultan no longer inhabits it, two or three hundred men-cooks remain in the kitchens.”

“For what purpose, my friend, if no one lives there?”

“Oh, somebody does. I believe there is a college for some of the favourite sons of high Turkish families. Here,” he continued, “look at this uneven row of houses with lattices. Do you know what they are?”

“No; pray what are they?”

“Why, Sultan Mahmoud’s harem; and it is most probably still inhabited by a few of his old favourites and their suites, which are very numerous.”

“Well, upon my word, those species of châlets put me very much in mind of chicken-cages.”

The English officer’s wife, to whom I have before referred, and with whom I had some conversation during the passage, came upon deck while my dragoman was describing the surrounding scenery, and listened with vivid interest, taking notes of the most interesting passages. The dragoman, turning quickly round--“Madam,” said he, “you see that colossal spout shooting out at a sharp incline towards the water. That is the spot from whence, if any of the Turkish ladies prove disobedient or faithless to their imperial lord and master, they are stitched up in a sack alive, accompanied by a starving cat and a venomous serpent, and shot into that mighty watery grave, the Bosphorus.”

“Monsieur Soyer, do you think that is true?”

“I believe such things have been done, madam, for it was pointed out to me the first thing this morning as having been used for that purpose. I recollect some years since reading the same tale either in a French or English work; I believe it was French. At all events, European manners and customs are progressing throughout the world, and have even reached Turkey. I hear from every one, that the Sultan is a most amiable and humane man. I would therefore recommend you to reserve your look of horror and indignation for more modern calamities. You may be certain, if such things have happened, they will never happen again, for, thank Heaven, we live in a civilized era.”

“We should, perhaps, doubt such reports.”

“You are quite right, madam.”

“There is another curious tale related of the Leander Tower,” said the lady.

“There is; but my dragoman tells me the proper name for it is La Tour de la Jeune Fille, as they say in French, or the Maiden’s Tower.”

“I was here when a French tutor came to Constantinople,” said my dragoman, “and the first thing he asked me was--‘Where is the Maiden’s Tower?’ as the English call it. At all events, madam, the story runs thus:--A great beauty, the daughter of some pacha, had her fortune told by a celebrated gipsy, who apprised her that she would never marry, as she was fated to die young. The girl, terrified at the prediction, ran, and in tears related to her father the fatal destiny said to be in reserve for her. He immediately sent for the old witch, and she repeated the fatal prophecy, adding, moreover, that the young girl would die from the bite of a serpent or some such venomous reptile. The pacha having repeatedly asked the old woman if that was the only kind of speedy death with which his daughter was menaced, and having received a reply in the affirmative, parted upon very friendly terms with the hag, who was possessed, as he said, by an evil spirit. He then caused this tower to be built for his daughter’s residence, and for several years she lived in this picturesque place, without being visited by any one but her father, who continually supplied her with provisions of the most delicate kind, and nosegays of the finest flowers. It happened one day, that, on taking up one of the bouquets in order to inhale the perfume, a small insect stung her on the lip, and in a few hours she expired in great agony, before any succour could be obtained, as there was no communication with the land, nor any antidote in readiness. So awful an event, in so secluded a spot, had never been contemplated. The pacha’s intention had been to keep his daughter there till she was of age to be married, and thus break the spell of the old sorceress. The legend was thus related to me by an Armenian gentleman who has lived here nearly all his lifetime.”

“Well, I admit that I have not only heard the story before, but I recollect the incident of the death of the young girl, from the bite of a reptile, very well; and I also heard that the name of the Tower of Leander is applied to it; but it has not the least relation to the legend of the two lovers celebrated by Lord Byron, who also swam from Sestos to Abydos.”

As my people had returned, and were waiting for me, I bade my fair compagnon de voyage adieu, expressing a hope to have the pleasure of meeting her in Balaklava. Our two caidjees rapidly flew away with us from the side of the Simois, and soon landed us at the Tophané tumble-down stairs. We are now on shore; but what a contrast!--the fairy scene has disappeared, and we appear to be in the midst of a penny show. The Tophané landing place is nothing but a heap of rotten planks, parts of which have given way, and the holes are rather dangerous, as one might easily slip and break a leg. The very clean and picturesque caidjees are waiting amidst heaps of manure and the carcase of a dead horse, which had been thrown into the Bosphorus and had drifted on shore. A number of ill-looking, half-famished dogs were feeding upon that heap of corruption. On inquiring of the son of the proprietor of the hotel, who accompanied me, he coolly told me that it had only been there a day or two, and would probably remain for months--particularly the skeleton--when the dogs had devoured all the flesh. The odour arising from the carcass, and the filth daily cast into the water, was very unwholesome, and quite unbearable; and very glad was I to quit the great landing-place of Tophané--so called, no doubt, from the extraordinary amount of daily traffic between the shipping above and the Asiatic shore. About seventy or eighty caiques are always waiting there, as it is the principal landing point at Constantinople.

Following my guide, we passed through a number of dirty narrow streets, full of a black liquid mud, very ill paved--if they could be called paved at all, amidst which numerous leperous and villanous-looking dogs were snarling and fighting. Donkeys loaded with tiles, stones, and long logs of wood filled up the filthy road; besides gangs of powerful and noisy Turkish hamals or porters, carrying enormous loads upon long poles. The enchanting mirage of the panoramic Constantinople vanished rapidly from before my disenchanted eyes; this ephemeral Paradise of Mahomet changing at once into an almost insupportable purgatory. I could not imagine how such a mass of ruins and of miserable wooden houses could, from so short a distance, take such a brilliant aspect or create such ravishing sensations, as the first view of Constantinople had raised in my mind from the deck of the Simois. I now envied the fate of our fair fellow-traveller who so much regretted that she could not disembark--were it only for a few hours. Those few hours, nay, the first, would have sufficed to break the spell. Reader, though this is an exact description of our entrance into Constantinople, I reasoned thus--It is an immense metropolis, and no doubt something great exists within its walls. I must wait patiently and try to find it out.

Reproaching my dragoman for bringing me through such a vile part of the city, he quietly replied, in English, “There is no other road, sir; it has rained very much lately, which is the cause of so much mud.” I now perceived, that as far as the names of pavements go, the difference between Constantinople and London was not so great,--the former being muck-muddy-mised, and the latter macadamised.

At this moment we were turning the corner of the Grand Mosque of Sultan Soliman; and a pacha, in all his obesity, mounted upon an Arabian horse, and followed by his suite, six in number, rode full gallop through a pond of liquid slush, splashing every one from head to foot on either side the narrow street. An English soldier at once sent him his military blessing; and the Turk, spurring his horse, exclaimed, “Not Bono Johnny; Not Bono Johnny;” that being the name given to the English by the Turks. After passing through several similar streets, consisting of ruinous wooden shanties and shops of the lowest order, “viz., chibouque tube and pipe-bowl makers,” the interior of which were dirty and mean, with scarcely any kind of stock, we arrived at a fountain, in front of which was a semi-perpendicular and narrow street. My guide informed me that my hotel was at the end of this street. “It is,” he continued, “the Hôtel d’Angleterre, called by the English--Messerie’s Hotel.”

“Thank God for that,” said I. In about twenty minutes we arrived at the said hotel. As I had sent my letter to Mr. Messerie, he soon appeared, and very cordially shook me by the hand, and politely expressed his regret at not being able to accommodate me. He recommended the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs. On my saying that I was going there, he made me promise to call upon him the next morning, the distance from his house being but a few paces.

When I arrived, I at once retired to my apartment, quite worn out with fatigue. Having taken some refreshment, I made up my mind not to dine at the table d’hôte. I learnt that Colonel St. George, Captain Ponsonby, &c., had gone to the Hôtel de l’Europe, and I therefore felt free for that evening. About five o’clock, Mons. Pantaleone Veracleo, a young Greek, the son of the hotel-keeper, came and informed me that the table d’hôte would be ready at six. Thanking him for his attention, I proceeded to ask several questions about Constantinople, and also the distance from the hotel to the British Embassy?

“Not five minutes’ walk, sir,” said he; “you can see it from the top of the hotel. Our house is the highest in Pera!”

We mounted to the terrace, and my conductor pointed it out to me. From this terrace I again beheld a similar panorama to that which I had witnessed on board the Simois, and by which I had been so much charmed. In order to enjoy it fully, I expressed my desire to remain a short time alone. Having directed my attention to the different points of view, Mr. Veracleo left me.

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VII. A BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF CONSTANTINOPLE FROM PERA

An accomplished linguist--Le Petit Champ des Morts--Bird’s-eye view--Breakfast table of the hotel--English Embassy--Interview with Lady Stratford de Redcliffe--The sanctuary of high diplomacy--Lord Stratford de Redcliffe--Signor Roco Vido--His apartment--Importance of a good dinner--Lord Stratford’s diplomatic banquet postponed--Probable consequences--Quotation from the Gastronomic Regenerator.

The rays of the sun on that showery March day assumed, towards five p.m., in the regions of the West, a most brilliant aspect. The vaporous edges of the humid clouds seemed gilded with vermilion and silver tints. The floods of light, like living fire, fell upon the rich masses of the domes of various mosques, and hundreds of pointed and slender minarets. While gazing in loneliness and contemplation, from the terrace of the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs, at this charming spot in the East, to which the beautiful mirage of an Oriental sunset lent an indescribable charm, a shrieking voice was heard from the lower terrace, saying, “Il signor, la table d’outre est servi! et il se refroidit fortement! La soupe il étoit tout à fait déménagée of the tureen!” Looking over the railing, I perceived the interpreter of the hotel, who was unfortunately the possessor of several tongues, addressing himself to me. He, no doubt, meant to imply that the table-d’hôte had been served, and the soup already removed from the table. This olla podrida of languages having produced no effect upon my mind, half an hour after, the son of the hotel-keeper made his appearance, who, though speaking French like certain horned beasts in Spain, clearly gave me to understand that I was too late for dinner. Taking advantage of his unexpected visit, I inquired, looking towards the arsenal, “What part of the metropolis is that opening near us?”

“Le Petit Champ des Morts, or the Small Field of the Dead,--so-called, though nearly two miles in circumference, which is now so full that no further interments are allowed within its area,”--he replied.

By the aid of an opera-glass, I plainly distinguished beneath us a large pile of irregular stones, encircled by a railing. I, at first sight, took this for the ruins of a kind of hippodrome which might have succumbed to an earthquake, each stone having lost its perpendicular, as though purposely to mock its fellow, and not making the slightest attempt to perpetuate the grandeur of their solemn mission. Horses, mules, and donkeys, were seen dragging loads of large planks to and fro, six or eight on either side. The ends of the planks kept cutting rather deep zig-zags into the soft ground, and were continually catching against tombstones. The whole formed a kind of gigantic American bagatelle board, where, when the ball is violently thrown to the top, it descends by degrees, catching the points in every direction in its way down. Next to it music was heard. Boys were romping, some playing with marbles, or five para pieces, making use of the stones for their point of departure. Lemonade, cakes, raki, and variegated bonbons, oranges, lemons, &c., were briskly purchased by the promenaders, who, amongst this cohue-bohue of industry, were seen gaily crossing and recrossing the green paths. Some reclined against the grave-stones, forming, as it were, an arm-chair. Amongst them, however, were but few Mussulmans, some turning Dervishes and Howlers, Greeks, Armenians, French, Perotes, Smyrniotes, and here and there gazing with astonishing disapprobation, some of the children of Albion. All excepting the latter might be seen gaily fluttering from tombstone to tombstone, like busy bees from flower to flower, in a perfumed pasture in summer. Here and there clumps of cypress trees looked like the mournful guardians of this desecrated spot. Some of the marble stones are still vividly stained with the blood of the haughty and rebellious Janissaries, whose crumbling bodies lay beneath. Such is the pious veneration of the Oriental population for the remains of their ancestors in the Petit Champ des Morts at Pera.

The principal buildings which grace this foreign quarter are the English, French, Austrian, Russian, Sardinian, and Prussian embassies. The former, called the Palais d’Angleterre, now the residence of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, interested me most, as I was in duty bound to pay my humble respects to his lordship and her ladyship the next morning. It brought to my mind from a distance the celebrated building of the Reform Club, which gave Barry his high reputation as an architect, and where your humble servant passed above two lustres of his culinary career.

While the new moon was faintly shining through transparent clouds, the hundred minarets of Stamboul and its vicinity had been illuminated for a festival, and their fiery collarettes à la Vandyke proudly carried those rings of diamonds high towards the heavenly sphere. Eight o’clock was striking at the Catholic church of Saint Mary. All was darkness and silence. Hastily retiring to my bed-room, perfectly satisfied with having fed my mind, although I had probably neglected internal restoration, I soon fell into a most profound slumber, in which I saw nothing but churchyards, clumps of cypress trees, mosques, and illuminated minarets, till I awoke at daybreak.

My wandering mind having fluttered all night about the Oriental metropolis, I was not in the slightest degree surprised to find myself in the morning in the land which had given birth to the Arabian Nights. The sound of a cracked bell was heard from the bottom of the staircase, inviting each traveller to his morning meal. There was a goodly number present, and we sat down about thirty-five. The majority were military men, of various ranks, mostly French and English. Some expressed their regret at my absence the previous evening, fancying--so much for imagination--the dinner would have been more choice had the landlord been personally acquainted with me. At all events, the breakfast-table was well supplied, and I made a hearty meal, amidst the buzzing of various languages.

As it was nearly eleven o’clock by the time I had finished, I started for the Embassy, and after about twenty minutes of most laborious gymnastic exercise over the ill-paved Rue (Ruelle it should be called) de Pera, I entered the small wooden gate at the grand entrance of the Palais d’Angleterre, which is majestically located in a fine open space of ground, encircled by a large terrace, with parterres of shrubs and high trees, from which spot a most favourable view of the rich mass of building around is obtained. Modest grandeur, boldness, and simplicity of execution, seem to have been the architect’s sole ambition. I shall probably, in another chapter, describe the beauty and comfort of its interior. The porter having taken my card, I was immediately shown into the library. A few moments spent in this sanctuary of belles lettres afforded me a fair opportunity of closely examining a very excellent and well-executed painting, the style of which assured me that it was a good portrait of his Sublime Majesty, the present Sultan, Abdul Medjid. Ten minutes had scarcely elapsed, when Lady Stratford entered, and addressed me in French, with a smile of welcome difficult to forget. “Well, Monsieur Soyer, we heard of your departure from England for the East.”

“No doubt you did, my lady.”

“And I sincerely hope that you will succeed in your laudable undertaking. I have no doubt your suggestions will prove highly beneficial, and be well received by the authorities at the various hospitals, which, in your department, are much in want of some kind of regulation. I also hope that the Minister-at-War has invested you with power to act according to your own judgment.”

“I am happy to inform your ladyship,” said I, “that her Majesty’s Government has not only granted me the power required to superintend and, if possible, improve the diet at the Hospital, but have also honoured me with their full confidence as regards ordering anything extra which may be required, so long as it tends to the comfort of the sick.’

“Well, I am very happy to hear that such is the case,” replied her ladyship; “for without such power your services would not have been so effective.”

“I can assure your ladyship that I would not have undertaken this task if such powers had not been granted to me by Lord Panmure. I was well aware of the numerous difficulties I should meet with, which are almost unavoidable in every kind of administration. But so highly do I appreciate the honour conferred upon me, that, far from taking advantage of the unlimited confidence reposed in me, it will be my pride to try and make all my contemplated improvements with the present governmental allowance; and I have no doubt that in time, by judicious organization and good management, as well as by using everything to the best advantage, I shall economize, instead of increasing the expense to the nation. Having heard that your ladyship has, from the commencement of this serious war, devoted the best part of your time to the various hospitals, in watching over the sick and wounded, I shall esteem it a great favour if you will direct me how to act, in order to insure prompt success, and what articles of diet are most required for the patients.”

“It will afford me great pleasure, Monsieur Soyer, to give you the principal information; but Signor Roco Vido, my head manager and cook, will furnish the details, as he daily prepares large quantities of comforts,--such as beef-tea, mutton and chicken broth, calves’-foot jelly, &c., &c.,--and distributes them himself at the Barrack and General Hospitals, also at Hyder Pacha, where the officers are.”

“Indeed, my lady. Such information from Signor Roco would be invaluable to me.”

“Very well; I will send for him.”

“I beg your ladyship’s pardon, but I always understood that the hospitals were on the other side the Bosphorus.”

“Yes, Monsieur Soyer, the great military ones are; but as at the beginning of the campaign, after the battle of the Alma, none of them had extra diet kitchens, we prepare food here and send it over.”

“I understand that the Bosphorus is sometimes so rough that no one can cross it.”

“Such is the case; but we have a good-sized caique, and I can assure you that, although it is so very dangerous, it has never missed going one day; and since the battle of Inkermann, it often goes to Kululee, where we have opened another hospital, nearly three miles from this. Before you see Signor Roco, if you will follow me, I will inquire whether Lord Stratford is disengaged, as I have no doubt he will be pleased to see you.”

“I am your ladyship’s most humble servant,” was my reply.

After walking over the best part of the grand square gallery, and crossing before the magnificent marble hall and gigantic staircase, we ascended to a loftier story. A gentle tap at the door gained us admittance to the sanctuary of high diplomacy. A plain screen was all the furniture to be seen. A few words from her ladyship soon brought me in communication with his Excellency, who, though much engaged (being surrounded by mountains of official papers), received me in a most cheerful and friendly manner. After I had said a few words relative to the mission entrusted to me by the British Government, and her ladyship had briefly narrated our former conversation, Lord Stratford kindly expressed the pleasure it would give him to hear of my success in that important department. “A good diet,” said Lady Stratford, “being of paramount importance to every one in a state of debility. Monsieur Soyer,” continued her ladyship, “also wishes to see Roco, to learn from him, as he has now had several months’ practice making various aliments for the patients, what kinds are most in request by the doctors.”

“No doubt,” Lord Redcliffe replied, “Roco will be happy to give you all the information you may require upon the subject. He is a very good man, and exerts himself to the utmost for the hospitals.”

Lord Stratford again expressed his good wishes and promises of kind support, whereupon her ladyship and your humble servant retired. The ambassadress then ordered the footman in waiting to conduct me to Signor Roco’s apartment; expressing her desire to meet me with him the next day at the Kululee and Scutari hospitals. I promised to attend at those places on the following morning, and took my leave.

A walk through the gallery and corridor of that noble mansion brought us to Signor Roco Vido’s door. An indication on the outside apprised me that my cicerone was a child of la belle Italie, which at first caused me some fear lest this should create impediments and delay in our business transactions, as I only understood the language of the Italian opera. A few words from the footman soon brought me in amicable contact with the major-domo of the Palais d’Angleterre, who spoke excellent English, and, like his illustrious master, was surrounded by archives, but only of culinary and household affairs. The contents of these, though not so important to the world, were nearly as substantial, more especially the bill of fare, which in itself is capable of influencing any diplomatic subject. A good one gratifies the stomach and soothes the brain, which is necessarily influenced by the quality, succulence, and scientific preparation of the aliments imparted to the first organ.

Such was the important office entrusted to the guidance of Signor Roco Vido. And who can say, after all, that the late destructive war was not partly, or even entirely, caused by a dinner? Did not the French revolution of ‘48 emanate from a banquet? and upon this occasion, 1854, six years after, a most unaccountable gastronomic event occurred. Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, on his return to Constantinople as plenipotentiary, had for the first time invited his Excellency Prince Menschikoff to a grand diplomatic dinner, where all the representatives of the then united Courts were to assemble. The day was fixed for the 21st of March, 1854, and the invitations were cordially accepted, most especially by the representative of the Czar; he being, no doubt, anxious to read upon the brow of the diplomatist the political feeling of his nation. That very day, towards noon, the Sultan’s mother died. In the morning she had written a letter to his Excellency, expressive of her full confidence that he would study the future welfare of her son in his relations with the British Government. On account of this mournful event, and with a most profound feeling of respect and veneration for the Imperial mourner, the dinner was postponed for a week; and while the dark veil was laid over the banqueting-table, and the black seal was set upon the batterie de cuisine, and numerous bouches à feu de l’Ambassade britannique, his Excellency Prince Menschikoff was on board a Russian man-of-war anchored at the mouth of the Black Sea, waiting with all the dignity and defiance imaginable for the determination of peace or war. The diplomatic banquet never took place! the war did!

I consider a postponed diplomatic dinner to be an universal calamity, especially when only a few hours’ notice of the postponement is given; and I cannot but quote the Gastronomic Regenerator, page 342, published in the year 1842, in which I say--

“Rien ne dispose mieux l’esprit humain à des transactions amicales qu’un dîner bien conçu et artistement préparé. Lisez l’histoire, et vous y trouverez que, dans tous les temps et chez tous les peuples, le bien qui s’est fait, et quelquefois le mal, fut toujours précédé ou suivi d’un copieux dîner.”

Translation.--“Nothing can prepare the human mind for amicable intercourse better than a well-conceived and artistically-prepared dinner. Read history, and you will ascertain that at all periods, and amongst all nations, the benefits, and sometimes the evils, they experienced, were either preceded or followed by a good dinner.”

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VIII. FIRST VIEW OF THE SCENE OF ACTION

Cordial reception--Table-d’hôte--Absence of the fair sex--Warlike sentiments--Toasts--Scene at the Tophané landing-place--A chorus of boatmen--Caiques and caidjees--Romantic illusions dispelled--Crossing the Bosphorus--The Barrack Hospital--Lord William Paulet--Warm welcome--Dr. Cumming’s apartment--Plans discussed--Melancholy sights--Return to Pera--Another conversation with Signor Roco Vido--Articles supplied by him to the hospitals--Wounded Russians--Origin of the hospital--An appointment.

The same day, I despatched one of my men to the Barrack Hospital at Scutari, to inform Lord William Paulet--at that period Brigadier-General of the British army--of my arrival at Constantinople, and to inquire at what hour his lordship would favour me with an interview. Upon my return from the Palais d’Angleterre, I found that my man Julian had arrived from Scutari, much, pleased with his lordship’s reception, but terribly frightened by his passage en caïque across the Bosphorus, which that day was so rough that all his clothes were wet through. “The caidjee would not take me there and back for less than five shillings,” said he.

“Well, never mind that, so long as you have seen his lordship and are safe upon terra firma.”

“I must tell you, sir, that upon announcing your arrival, his lordship seemed very much pleased, and observed, ‘So Monsieur Soyer has arrived! Where is he?’ ‘At Pera, my lord, at the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs.’ ‘I had the pleasure of knowing M. Soyer,’ said his lordship, ‘when he came to Ireland in the year of the famine. Tell him I shall be happy to see him any time to-morrow between the hours of nine and four.’ ‘Thank you, my lord. I shall not fail to acquaint M. Soyer of the kind reception you have given me on his behalf.’”

Highly gratified at the kind reception I had received from Lord and Lady Stratford de Redcliffe, and fixing my visit to Lord William Paulet for nine or ten the next morning, I then visited General Cannon at Messerie’s Hotel, to inform him of the progress I was making, and to tell him that all appeared encouraging. I felt it my duty to do this, as he and all the officers on board the Simois expressed considerable interest in my undertaking. As General Cannon was out, I had the pleasure of seeing his aide-de-camp, Captain Harbuckle, who promised to inform the General of the subject of my visit. On inquiring for Mr. Messerie, I found him busily engaged in the entrance-hall. He took me to his private room, and we had a long conversation. He very kindly gave me much valuable information respecting the products of the country, which, he stated, differed much from those found in the English markets in quality, though little in price, as all kinds of provisions had risen to double, and in some cases triple, what they were before the commencement of the war.

“That,” I answered, “could not fail to be the case, considering the immense influx of troops daily arriving at Constantinople.”

“Any information or assistance you may require, Monsieur, I shall, as a confrère, be happy to give you, and will also endeavour to render myself useful as well as agreeable.”

I promised to pay him a visit now and then when I came to Pera, and we parted. It would be difficult for any one to imagine the immense number of persons who daily went in and out of this large hotel. The spacious hall was crowded with baggage. In fact, there is but one hotel in Pera, or we might say in Constantinople, and that is the one.

I next called at the “Hôtel de l’Europe,” to see Captain Ponsonby and Colonel St. George. I found they had just before left, with the intention of dining at the table-d’hôte at the “Hôtel des Ambassadeurs.” Upon my arrival there, I found a number of my fellow-travellers, all come, as they said, in expectation of finding a better dinner than at their hotel, in consequence of my being there. We certainly had a very tolerable dinner, which stamped for a time the reputation of the hotel for having one of the best tables-d’hôte in Constantinople. The room was very spacious and lofty, the table well laid out, ornamented with numerous fine bouquets of flowers, and lighted with wax lights. We sat down about forty, principally military men.

Over glasses of Greek champagne and Bordeaux wine, several laughable anecdotes relating to our voyage were told. Expressions of admiration at the view of the Moslem city from the Bosphorus--of disappointment at the disenchantment experienced on landing--were freely uttered. In fact, we all seemed to enter upon our campaign with most flourishing prospects; but we could not help remarking, and feeling at heart, the want of ladies at our board. Not one adorned our festival. This gave us a sad prestige of the deprivation of female society we should be condemned to in the Crimea. Such was to be our fate throughout the campaign. At the time, none seemed to feel the loss of those they loved or had loved so dearly. No; all were for war! war! and glory at any risk. Bloodshed, epidemics, destruction, loss of life, &c., were matters of little moment. The very air we breathed seemed to smell of powder. All these horrors had steeled men’s hearts, and in so doing, seemed to have banished all rational feeling for home. Men seldom thought of their wives and families, or at least never spoke of them; and if a young and tender-hearted warrior did think of his anticipated fair companion or fiancée, he dared not talk of her--every one would have laughed at him.

In spite of this, one member of the fair sisterhood, and the ornament of her sex, was not forgotten; and when the health of Victoria, Queen of England, was proposed by a French Colonel, the shouts and hurrahs it elicited did not cease for many minutes. Why such enthusiasm? Believe me, it was not in honour of her Majesty’s sex. No! it was an acknowledgment of the martial glory of the country; for, a few minutes after, the same sentiment was expressed for the Emperor of France; and again, for the union and alliance of the three nations. This proceeding, instead of opening the heart to feelings of love, and of calling forth the last sentiment of the kind which might have lingered there, aroused a sterner inspiration. Such are what I call the calamities, if not the horrors, of war; where all is destruction, and humanity is rendered inhuman. This was the prevailing feeling of about forty well-bred and brave military men--fifteen of whom were French, and the remainder Englishmen--sitting at the table-d’hôte of the “Hôtel des Ambassadeurs,” at Pera, on the 20th of March, 1854. Of that company, nearly a third, a few months after, had sacrificed their lives for the glory of their country.

The next morning, at half-past eight, I went with my dragoman to the horrid Tophané landing-place. There I was surrounded by at least twenty caidjees, who added to the disagreeables of this spot an evil of which I was not aware at my first visit. Just fancy twenty Turks screaming out their to me unknown language, and performing, at the same time, a peculiar pantomime with their fists so close to your visage, you might almost fancy they were telling you that, if you dared to take any other caique than theirs, they would punch your head for you, or throw you into the Bosphorus. In such a scene of noise and confusion, it is almost, if not altogether, impossible for one to make up one’s mind whether one requires one caique or several. The mistake occurs in this, that they offer you a caique with one, two, or three caidjees.

As the Bosphorus was very rough, my man hired a craft with three pair of oars--the two and three-oared boats being the only ones that went out that day--the small caiques with one pair of oars seldom venturing out in such weather. We soon stepped into the boat; and, to my delight, we had no sooner set foot in the one we had selected, than, as if by a magic spell, every tongue was silent. About two minutes after, just as we were pushing off, two English officers made their appearance, and experienced more trouble than I had done, as I had with me a man who spoke their language. We got afloat quickly enough, and the short spiteful waves constantly dashed in our faces, and rocked us about in all directions. To my astonishment, the rowers took quite a different direction to the Barrack Hospital, which appeared to me close at hand. On making a remark to this effect to my dragoman, he told me the current was so strong that they were obliged to fetch up a long way to avoid being dashed against the Seraglio Point, or the chains and hawsers of the vessels at anchor. “Oh, thank you,” said I, “let them go as many miles round as they please, especially as I have till four o’clock to see his lordship.”

After a long pull we came close to the Tour de la Jeune Fille, and I told my man Auguste to inquire respecting the truth of the tale narrated in a previous chapter. The only reply he could get from the three caidjees respecting this wonderful story was, that they knew of no young maiden who dwelt there; but that, on the contrary, an old Armenian woman, in summer time, sold bad coffee and worse tobacco. A few weeks afterwards the café was opened, and, instead of la jeune fille, there was an obesity of about sixty years old--coiffée à la grecque--fresh flowers ornamenting the remains of what, no doubt, was once a fine head of hair.

The current here is so strong and rapid, that the waves inundate the best part of the tower. Auguste told me this place was at all times the most dangerous, and that in bad weather a single-oared caique could not cross near it. A few minutes after, under shelter of the high Scutari banks and out of the current, we were, comparatively speaking, in smooth water. But our poor caidjees were in a violent perspiration, though the weather was rather cold, and paused to take breath. It took us above an hour to cross, though you could see the hospital close at hand at starting. At last we arrived at the landing-place, which, thanks to the English, was far better than the Tophané one.

The hospital being on an elevated spot, and not more than a thousand yards distant, appeared three times as large as it did from the deck of the Simois; and here again, at sight of such a gigantic establishment, my courage failed me, and for the second time I regretted having undertaken such a difficult task. I immediately went to the grand hospital entrance, the residence of Lord W. Paulet, thanking my stars that I had the honour of being known to him. I was shown the general’s quarters, and sent in my card. I was desired to follow, and had no sooner entered, than his lordship came to meet me, and shook hands cordially.

“Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “we have not had the pleasure of meeting since 1847, when I saw you in Dublin,--the year of the famine in Ireland.”

These words recalled the scene to my mind.

“I was at the Royal Barracks, with the Duke of Cambridge, when you opened your kitchen in the Barrack Square--in fact, before our window. The Duke and myself paid you a visit the day the Lord-Lieutenant opened it. You had nearly a thousand visitors that morning, and fed between four and five thousand poor people in the course of the day. The samples of food prepared by you were excellent, though made at such a moderate price, I assure you,” his lordship continued, speaking to some gentlemen present, one of whom knew me while at the Reform Club.

“Indeed, my lord, you give me much pleasure by recalling reminiscences of my success at that period; and I accept the same as a good omen for my present undertaking, especially when taken in connexion with your valuable support.”

“Monsieur Soyer, you may depend upon my support; but I tell you beforehand, you will have no end of difficulties.”

“Well, my lord, with your support, a good will, and perseverance, I have no doubt of doing some good.” I then presented Lord Panmure’s letter respecting my mission. While his lordship was reading it, I was asked by several officers present, “What are you sent out for?” Lord William Paulet, overhearing them, replied, “To set us to rights in our kitchen department, to be sure. This letter from the Minister-at-War shall be closely attended to, Monsieur Soyer, and I will this day give orders to that effect.”

From this I understood that Lord Panmure had given instructions for everything I might require.

“Well,” said his lordship, “how many cooks have you brought with you?”

“Four, my lord.”

“Only four! I thought you would want many more than that. However, let me know what you require. You are staying at Pera?”

“Yes; but I intend coming over to-morrow, to make a beginning.”

“I must get you a house in town; we are so full here, we have no room to spare.”

“I’m not sorry for that--it will be a change of air--though I shall require a small room in the hospital.”

“We’ll see about that--but tell me, of how many does your staff consist?”

“About seven or eight.”

“I’ll try and get you a house to yourself.”

“Many thanks, my lord. I assure you that the kind reception accorded to me will never be forgotten by your humble servant. In order that no time may be lost--and I am aware that your lordship’s is highly valuable--will you kindly instruct some one to show me Dr. Cumming’s apartment, as I have a letter of introduction to that gentleman from Dr. Andrew Smith; and I am anxious to confer with the Doctor upon the subject of the new diets, and submit them for his special approval.”

His lordship then directed Dr. Rutherford to show me to Dr. Cumming’s office, which we reached through a long corridor lined with beds on either side, and occupied by sick and wounded. The apartment was full of persons waiting to see the doctor. On sending in my card I was immediately admitted, and very politely received. Dr. Cumming was, of course, full of business. He read the letter from Dr. A. Smith, and then said, “Monsieur Soyer, you may depend upon it that I will do all in my power to assist you.”

I then stated my plan of commencing with a hundred patients, of which, he highly approved. “The next thing,” I observed, “will be to find a suitable place for a kitchen.”

“I think,” said he, “the General Hospital will be the best to begin at, as it has always been used as an hospital. You will find everything more appropriate there.” I expressed a great desire to commence with the Barrack Hospital, to which Dr. Cumming immediately consented.

“Dr. Rutherford, you will perhaps be kind enough to show Mr. Soyer over the hospital, and assist him in selecting a suitable spot to commence operations.” Doctor Cumming again repeated his promise of giving me every support, and said, “You know my office, and I shall at all times be glad to see you upon matters of business.”

“You may depend upon it, Doctor, that I shall only trouble you with indispensable matters, and such with which it is most important you should be acquainted.”

We then parted. The Doctor and myself walked round the whole of the corridors, both sides of which were filled with patients. The numerous wards round the barracks, each of which held about thirty patients, were also full. These melancholy sights have been so often depicted in letters in the public press, that it would only be reopening an old wound were I to dilate upon them. There is a wide difference between seeing the thing upon the spot, in all its painful and wretched truth, and in merely reading a well-written description. This fact all who have witnessed such spectacles have felt, without being able or willing to describe. I must say that, in spite of the sang froid and energy I possess, the sight of such calamities made a most extraordinary impression upon me, and produced an effect which lasted for several days afterwards. At length I found a place on one of the large staircases, in which I could make an excellent model kitchen, and of this discovery I at once informed Dr. Cumming. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and being obliged to return to Pera, I was compelled to leave without seeing Miss Nightingale, for whom I had brought several letters--one in particular, from the Duchess of Sutherland.

In the evening I went to the British Embassy to have a little conversation with Signor Roco Vido, respecting the Kululee hospital, and obtained from him a list of the various sorts of diets he had been supplying. He then informed me that our visit to Kululee with her ladyship was deferred for a day or two on account of so many visitors staying at the Embassy on their way to the Crimea. This news I received with much pleasure, being anxious to commence operations at the Barrack Hospital. As it was near Lord Stratford’s dinner-hour, he requested me to sit down, and gave me the book containing the account of all that he had supplied from the beginning of the war. This I took for my guide.

The list of articles supplied by Signor Roco Vido to the different hospitals is so various that it would fill several pages, and would not be interesting or useful. They consisted principally of beef-tea, chicken and mutton broth, calves’-foot jelly, arrowroot, semolina, &c. &c. The supply commenced four days after the battle of the Alma, on which occasion several wounded Russians were taken prisoners and brought to the Barrack Hospital. They were about twenty in number, among whom was General Chekanoff, who died seven days after from his wounds. He had received three bayonet thrusts, and two balls had passed through his body: his age was sixty-five. He lies in the Cemetery near the General Hospital at Scutari. A small piece of rotten plank marks the resting-place of this brave defender of his country’s cause, from which in a short time the inscription will probably be erased.[8] Signor Marco Vido, brother of Roco Vido, who afterwards acted as Miss Nightingale’s interpreter, informed me that at that time the barracks which were afterwards turned into an hospital were entirely destitute of beds, sheets, blankets, chairs, tables, cooking utensils, or food of any description; the whole of which were supplied by Lady de Redcliffe; the General Hospital was then used by the Turkish army. This was the origin of the largest and most unique hospital in the world. Signor Marco Vido did not quit the general’s side till he had expired. The latter expressed his sincere thanks to him, and also to her ladyship, for the extreme kindness shown to him.

Signor Roco re-entered, as I was about to leave, having just written a few words of thanks. He said, “I have told my lady you are here. She will be glad to see you before dinner, if you wish it.”

“No, my dear sir, I do not wish to disturb her ladyship; but pray tell her that I am entirely at her orders respecting the Kululee or Hyder Pacha Hospitals.”

“By-the-bye, I am going early to-morrow to Hyder Pacha,--perhaps you would like to come with me?” said he.

“I shall be most happy, if you go before twelve o’clock,” I replied, “as at that hour I have several appointments at the Barrack Hospital.”

“We will start at eight o’clock, if you like.”

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IX. COMMENCEMENT OF THE CULINARY CAMPAIGN

Good news--First meeting with Mr. Bracebridge--The Hyder Pacha Hospital--Bad cooking--The General Hospital--Meeting with Miss Nightingale--Plans discussed--Miss Nightingale’s anxiety for a change of system--A visitorial pilgrimage--Miss Nightingale’s dietary kitchen--Bad charcoal--Extra diet kitchens--Question of seasoning--The general kitchen--Imperfect arrangements--An old acquaintance--A promising commencement.

The next morning we started as agreed upon. On arriving at Scutari, I met a soldier who informed me that a house in Cambridge-street was being prepared for my reception. “It is not two minutes’ walk from here,” said he; “will you go and see it?”

“Thank you, not this morning; my friend is in a great hurry. When will it be ready?”

“To-morrow, or next day, at the latest.”

“That will do very well. Where can I find you if I want to see you?”

“At the Engineers’ office; my name is Corporal Hardy.”

“I thank you.”

On our way to Hyder Pacha, we met Mr. Bracebridge, talking to Dr. MacHree, the head doctor at that hospital; both of which gentlemen I very much wished to see. Upon being introduced to Mr. Bracebridge, I recognised him as an old acquaintance of my friend, the late Baronet Sir George Chetwynd, of Greedon Hall, Staffordshire, whom he frequently visited. He informed me that Miss Nightingale had heard of my arrival, and that she would be much pleased to see me.

“I was going to pay my respects,” said I, “to Mademoiselle this afternoon after post-time.”

“Oh, that will do very well,” he replied: “she will have great pleasure in seeing you.”

As the Doctor was on his way to head-quarters, and Mr. Bracebridge was going in another direction, we continued our journey, which, though short, was very fatiguing, the roads being very bad in consequence of a continuance of heavy rain. At last we arrived at the hospital, which, although the smallest, is certainly the most elegant. It was one of the Sultan’s Kiosques, and was divided into three departments--one for the officers, and two for the men. About three hundred and forty men and twenty officers were there at the time, as I was told; the latter complained very much about their cooking, the inferiority of which was unavoidable, as there was only a very small kitchen, badly built, which smoked all day, and was without ventilation. It was there that the Duke of Cambridge and staff remained during his indisposition; but I must observe that the Duke had a first-rate culinary artist, who went through the campaign with him. The Duke was only attended by a few gentlemen, and consequently it had not at the time of my visit twenty occupants. Nothing could be done properly for them, till I had built a rough wooden kitchen, and placed a civilian cook under the orders of the doctor and purveyor who had the regulation of the diets. This hospital, though very pretty, was never considered healthy, it being surrounded by gardens and marshy meadows.

After inspecting the mess-kitchen, we retired, and thence went to the General Hospital. The doctor-in-chief not being there, we were shown round by a staff-doctor. I found the kitchen very dark, and badly built, for such a number of patients; but the distribution of food and the regulation of the same were on a much better footing than at the Barrack Hospital. On noticing this to the head cook, he gave the credit to Dr. O’Flaherty. Upon being introduced to that gentleman, I recognised him as one of my visitors in Dublin, at the same time as Brigadier-General Lord W. Paulet. I promised to have the kitchen altered as soon as it could possibly be done, and started for the Barrack Hospital to visit Miss Nightingale. As Signor Roco had settled his business, he left me and returned to Pera; consequently, I entered the great Barrack Hospital alone. The entrance was crowded with officers of rank and medical gentlemen. The High-street, facing the General’s quarters, was literally crammed with soldiers, more or less conscious of the state of warlike affairs. Most of them kept vandyking from the gin palace to their quarters, their red jackets forming a strange contrast to the quiet dress and solemn air of the Moslem soldiers upon duty.

After shaking hands with some officers and doctors whom I had the pleasure of knowing in England, I inquired of a sentry for Miss Nightingale’s apartment, which he at once pointed out to me. On my entering the ante-room, a Sœur de Charité, whom I addressed, informed me that somebody was with that lady. She added, “I am aware that Miss Nightingale wishes to see you, so I will let her know that you are here.” I hoped to have a few minutes to myself in order to take an observation of this sanctuary of benevolence; but my project was defeated by my being immediately admitted; and this compels me to trace this picture from memory.

Upon entering the room, I was saluted by a lady, and not doubting that this was our heroine, “Madam,” said I, “allow me to present my humble respects. I presume I have the honour of addressing Miss Nightingale.”

“Yes, sir. Monsieur Soyer, I believe?”

“The same, Madam.”

“Pray take a seat. I hear you had a rough voyage out.”

“Very much so, especially from Marseilles to Ajaccio.”

“So I heard, Monsieur Soyer.”

“I have brought several parcels and letters for you; among the latter, one from the Duchess of Sutherland.”

After having perused this epistle, Miss Nightingale remarked: “I believe her Grace is right; you will no doubt be able to render great service in the kitchen department.”

“For which I shall need the good-will and assistance of all the heads of this monster establishment; and I must beg, above all things, that you who have already done so much for the sick and the wounded, will be kind enough to give me the benefit of your valuable experience.”

“I will, Monsieur Soyer; but first of all, I should advise you to see Lord William Paulet, Dr. Cumming, and the Purveyor-in-Chief, Mr. Milton.”

“Many thanks for your kind advice. I had the pleasure of seeing Lord William yesterday, as well as Dr. Cumming. To Mr. Milton I shall pay my respects upon leaving you.”

“You had better do so; for the principal part of your business you will have to transact with those gentlemen.”

“A very excellent remark, which I shall not fail to attend to.”

“Another gentleman you must see in the purveyor’s department, is Mr. Tucker. You will then be able to commence operations.”

“Very true: I shall not think of commencing before I am well acquainted with every one in each department that has reference to the cooking. I shall submit every sample of diets, with a statement of the quantity and kind of ingredients of which they are composed, for the approval and opinion of the medical authorities; as I shall have to deal with patients, and not with epicures.

“Perfectly right,” said Miss Nightingale.

“That no time may be lost, I should very much like this afternoon to visit the kitchens now in use, inspect the stores, and procure a statement of the daily rations allowed to each patient, if I can have one of the inspectors to go round with me.”

“Certainly you can; I will send for somebody who will be happy to accompany you.”

“Perhaps you would favour us with your company, as I should be most happy to attend to any suggestion you might like to make.”

“I will go with you with great pleasure; but here comes Doctor Macgregor, the under-superintendent, who will be our guide. He told me that he had met you before.”

“Yes; we met yesterday at Lord William Paulet’s.”

“Doctor,” said Miss Nightingale, “Monsieur Soyer wishes you to accompany him round the various kitchens and store-rooms.”

“I will do that with the greatest pleasure; but he had better be introduced to Mr. Milton and to Mr. Tucker. Mr. Milton is out, but Mr. Tucker will do instead.”

Our visitorial pilgrimage then commenced. We first visited Miss Nightingale’s dietary kitchen, in which I immediately recognised the whole of the little camp batterie de cuisine which my friend Comte told me that the Duke of Cambridge had presented to the hospital. Justice was indeed done to it, for every separate article of which it was composed was in use. Miss Nightingale had a civilian cook as well as an assistant. Everything appeared in as good order as could be expected, considering what there was to be done. I noticed the very bad quality of the charcoal, which smoked terribly, and was nothing but dust. Of course, this interfered materially with the expedition of the cooking, which is a subject of vital importance in an hospital, where punctuality is as essential as quality. Addressing the Doctor, I said, “Suppose you have fifty or a hundred patients under your direction--according to the disease you vary the diet, and according to the state of the patient you vary the hour of his meal.”

“Of course we do.”

“Then, this defect, simple as it may appear, should be reported and immediately remedied.”

“The only excuse I can find for the rations and diets not being ready at the time required is entirely owing to the bad quality of the charcoal, which, as regards time, would deceive the best of cooks, and is quite sufficient to upset the best of culinary arrangements. However, I will take note of the various things which strike me as being out of order or bad, and this will give me a good chance of effecting an immediate improvement.”

“You are perfectly right,” said Miss Nightingale. “I assure you that Dumont, my cook, is always complaining of the charcoal, which, as you see, is so full of dust that it will not burn; and some days he cannot manage to cook at all with it.”

“Well, I will endeavour to remedy this great evil.”

“Doctor,” said Miss Nightingale, “you had better tell Monsieur Soyer to whom he is to apply in this matter.”

“Oh, Mr. Milton or Mr. Tucker will be able to give him the necessary information. We will now visit another.”

About half-way down the long corridor, we found another extra diet kitchen, managed by soldiers; but it was far from being in good order--on the contrary, all was in the greatest confusion. The kitchen was full of smoke, and everything was boiling too fast. In consequence of the bad quality of the charcoal, a wall of bricks had been raised round each stove, and thus wood and charcoal were used ad libitum, burning the rice-pudding, and over-doing everything. In fact, everything had the disagreeable flavour of being burnt. As I did not wish to alarm them, I merely remarked that the fire was too fierce; and, on the following morning, I took one of my men with me to teach them how to manage better.

We then visited several other kitchens, all of which were, more or less, in the same state. To this there was, however, a single exception, to which I must do justice by observing, that, though not quite perfect as a model--being short of cooking utensils--still it was clean, and everything we tasted was far superior in flavour. Nothing was burnt, except a slight catch in the rice-pudding; but this was a mere trifle, compared with the way the viands were spoilt in the other places. The beef-tea, chicken-broth, &c., were nicely done, although they all wanted seasoning. At my first visit to the various diet kitchens, I tasted the soups made for the patients, which I found quite free from the slightest suspicion of seasoning, and consequently tasteless. I then asked to have a couple of basins filled with this. To one I added the requisite seasoning, and requested Doctor Cumming to taste of both. The Doctor complied with my request, and could scarcely believe it possible that such an improvement could be effected by so trifling an addition. He then expressed his approval and decided that in future the cook should season the soup, instead of leaving the same to the irregular tastes of the patients.

“Well,” said Doctor Macgregor, “this is by the doctor’s order, you may be sure.”

“I have not the pleasure of knowing that gentleman, yet, though I admire his kitchen very much, and must admit that he keeps it in good order, I shall certainly tell him when I see him that I do not agree with his method of not seasoning the broths, &c., while in course of preparation. It is very true they ought not to be too highly seasoned; but it is the province of the cook, as I before said, to season for the patient, and not the patient for the cook. Instead of giving so much salt in the ward, I would allow each patient but little or none at all; because in all cookery it is the combination of good and wholesome ingredients properly blended which constitutes the best of broths or diets; and this rule holds good for the bill of fare of all nations.”

“This seems logical enough,” said the Doctor; “nor do I approve of the quantity of salt and pepper given in the wards.”

“But, Doctor, there is another evil; some people are more partial to salt than others, and, only a few minutes ago, I saw a patient begging his neighbour to give him a portion of his share.”

“I am aware they do that, Monsieur Soyer.”

“Be kind enough to favour me with the name of the doctor.”

“His name is Dr. Taylor; he will be glad to see you, Monsieur Soyer,” said Miss Nightingale, smiling. “I can assure you he is a great cook, and manages his own kitchen. He comes down here two or three times every day. He is attending a board this morning, or he would certainly have been here.”

“If that is the case, we shall have no difficulty in understanding each other. I will do myself the pleasure of calling upon him.”

“You will be sure to find him in his office at nine o’clock to-morrow,” said Dr. Macgregor. We then crossed the yard to the general kitchen, as Miss Nightingale called it. Upon entering it, I found, to my surprise, a superb kitchen, built, I believe, by the Turks, and fitted up with twenty copper boilers, set in white marble, holding about fifty gallons each. About sixteen soldier cooks were employed cleaning the boilers, to make the tea, as the men’s dinners had just been served.

“This is a magnificent kitchen,” I observed to Miss Nightingale. “I was not aware there was anything of the kind here.”

“So it is, Monsieur Soyer; but see how badly everything is managed.”

“Well, this can be remedied.”

On going to the top of the marble steps, about eight in number, I perceived that every boiler was made of yellow copper, and screwed to its marble bed. I immediately inquired about the tinning, as I perceived the boilers were much in want of this. Copper is, as I have before remarked, the worst metal which could possibly be employed for hospital uses. I took notes of all, and having inquired of the men how they cooked the patients’ dinners, I told them to go on as usual; and that I would be with them at seven the next morning, to put them in the right way. As it was getting late, I was about taking my departure, when Miss Nightingale informed me that there was a similar kitchen on the other side of the yard, and advised me to go and see it.

“Like this one, do you say, Mademoiselle?”

“Yes, exactly like it.”

“You astonish me. Of course I will go directly. I shall, however, be sorry to trouble you to come so far.”

“Oh, no trouble at all, Monsieur Soyer. I am much interested in any improvement or amelioration which may be introduced in so important a department.”

We did, indeed, find just such another kitchen as the last, partitioned off in the centre. “This one,” said I, “will be large enough for all that we require.”

“You don’t say so,” observed Dr. Macgregor.

“Quite large enough, I can assure you; the only inconvenience is its great distance from the building. However, I shall try and manage somehow. This kitchen is cleaner than the other, and the head man appears more intelligent; still there is a great deal to be done, in order to set the whole to rights.”

“I was certain you would say so,” Miss Nightingale observed.

“Oh, but I am far from despairing. Indeed, I feel confident that I shall succeed. All I require is, that they will go on just as if I had not arrived. I shall come to-morrow at seven o’clock, and watch their proceedings, without removing any one from his post, and have no doubt I shall be able to introduce a much better system.”

After we had examined this kitchen, Miss Nightingale prepared to leave us. I promised to call upon her the following day, to go round the wards, and see the dinners served.

As the lady was leaving, I said, “I have an appointment with Lord W. Paulet at eleven, and one with Dr. Cumming at half-past--therefore I will afterwards do myself the honour of fetching you, Mademoiselle.”

“That will be the best plan; and probably his lordship will come with us.”

With this the lady withdrew. Dr. Macgregor and myself next went to the purveyor’s department, to see Mr. Tucker, whom I found to be an old London friend of mine, of ten years’ standing. “You are about the last person, friend Soyer,” said Mr. Tucker, “whom I should have expected to see here.”

“I am indeed in luck, as I hear you are the gentleman from whom I shall probably require the most assistance.”

“Anything you may require, M. Soyer, I have orders to let you have; and you may rest assured that Mr. Milton and myself will assist you to the utmost of our power. There is another person here who knows you--Mr. Bailey, the storekeeper.”

“These are indeed good tidings. To-morrow, Mr. Tucker, I shall be here early, to see how they manage the cooking. Perhaps you will be kind enough to allow some of your men to show me the various store-rooms and the fresh provisions.”

“I will make that all right, you may depend upon it.”

As my house was not quite ready I crossed over to Pera, and in the evening went to the English Embassy, to settle some business with Signor Roco Vido, and to ascertain whether Lady Stratford had fixed the day for our visit to the hospital at Kululee. This was to be my last night in Pera, as my house at Scutari was to be ready the following day.

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