XIX. HAPS AND MISHAPS IN CAMP…

XIX. HAPS AND MISHAPS IN CAMP

Dinner on board the Baraguay d’Hilliers--Bread-biscuit--Good news of Miss Nightingale--Operations at the Sanatorium kitchen--A borrowed pony--Don’t lose the saddle--No police nor newspapers--Difficulties at Balaklava--Dry vegetables in cake--A receipt--Promise of support--A new mother--Mrs. Seacole’s enthusiasm--The lady’s sons--Advice--My pony lost--A friend in need--Mr. Russell--Mr. Angel--Crimean Hue and Cry--Useless inquiries--Monsieur Armand’s difficulties--A dinner at the Post-office--A jovial party--Festivity and song--Break up at last.

On reaching the London, I found Mr. Bracebridge dressed and waiting for me to go and dine on board the Baraguay d’Hilliers, with Sir John Macneil and Captain Tulloch. We had that evening a most interesting conversation on all kinds of army stores and provisions. Sir John, who took a vital interest in my mission, gave me several important hints, and I submitted my opinion of the salt as well as fresh meats--fresh and dried vegetables, and especially the bread, which at that period arrived daily from Constantinople, but which, in consequence of its being sometimes put on board ship before it had got quite cool, lost a great deal of its nutritive quality during the passage. Had it been made in the Crimea of the same materials, it would have been very good. I was informed that bakeries were to be established. I told Sir John that I had made a kind of bread-biscuit, somewhat like common bread, but baked in flat cakes about twelve times the size of an ordinary biscuit; it would keep for months, and then eat well, though rather dry; it would soak well in tea, coffee, or soup, and be very palatable; it was made of three parts flour and one of peameal, and was reported upon by the medical gentlemen as being very nutritious and wholesome. A few days later I had the pleasure of showing some to those gentlemen, and they both highly approved of it. I afterwards had some made on board the Abundance. I submitted it to them, and they pronounced it excellent.[13]

The evening we spent on board the Baraguay d’Hilliers will not be soon forgotten. After a short nautical and nocturnal trip upon the water, we arrived safely in our old London. On our way to the Baraguay d’Hilliers, Mr. Bracebridge informed me that Miss Nightingale was pronounced out of danger, and that the news had been telegraphed to London. The medical men were of opinion that she should return to Scutari, and after a few days’ rest proceed to England. Although out of danger, she would not be able to quit Balaklava for eight or ten days. The next morning, at seven o’clock, I was at the Sanatorium kitchen, which was finished. I set my soldier-cooks to work, and all went on admirably. It was then ten o’clock, so I called upon Dr. Hadley (the chief doctor at the Sanatorium, who had succeeded Dr. Henderson, and to both of these gentlemen I must return my sincere thanks for their assistance and kindness), and requested him to come and taste some extra diets and soups I had prepared for the convalescents. Recollecting that I had not called upon Lord Raglan’s chef de cuisine, I mentioned the circumstance to Dr. Hadley, stating how much I wished to do so, but that I had no horse. Dr. Hadley very kindly offered me his pony, a fine grey, smartly caparisoned, which I at once accepted. When I had mounted, Dr. Hadley said--“Soyer, if you fall off, mind and get up again; for,” said he, “joking apart, though the pony is very quiet, recollect the road to Balaklava is a queer one, therefore take care of yourself. We should not mind so much if we had done with, you; but as we really require your services, for our own sakes take care of yourself.”

“I will do so,” said I, laughing, “were it only for the sake of your pony, which might get loose if I were to fall off, and you might not recover him again.”

“Never mind the pony,” said he: “you may lose him; but, whatever you do, don’t lose the saddle. We had better have a bit of supper on your return this evening, off that Yorkshire ham--you can cook it on your bivouac stove.”

“So we will, Doctor. I shall be back at six.”

“Don’t stay in the camp after dark; I can assure you it is a very dangerous place. Robberies and murders are of frequent occurrence, though we hear but little about them. We have no police, and no newspapers are published here, so we know nothing but what passes in our own circle.”

“You are perfectly right, Doctor; though I am not afraid, as I never travel without a revolver; yet it is best to be upon the safe side.”

Having fixed upon six o’clock for my return, and seven for supper, I started. There were about twenty convalescents outside the wards, enjoying the warmth of the sun’s rays. They were all in high glee at hearing our dialogue, which seemed to revive them from a state of lethargy to the consciousness of life.

The ride from the top of the Genoese heights to Balaklava harbour, by a new road, through mud, over rocks, rivulets, &c., and mounted upon a strange nag, was anything but pleasant to my feelings as a horseman. At all events, after numerous slippery evolutions on the part of my new charger, I found myself safe at the bottom of the ravine; but here another difficulty presented itself. The quay of the harbour was encumbered with French and Sardinian waggons, mules, and horses. The French, who had a wine depôt there for the troops, were strongly fortified with about a hundred pipes of wine, instead of gabions. So crowded was the road from the immense traffic and the unloading of shipping stores, that it took me nearly half-an-hour to ride a few hundred yards. This brought me as far as the Commissariat, where I had to call upon Commissary Filder. I found that he had just returned from head-quarters. We had about ten minutes’ conversation upon business. I related the result of my visit to the various provision stores--made remarks upon the same, and particularly upon the dry vegetables at that time issued to the troops. He then referred me to Under-Commissary Adams, to whom I promised a scale for a fresh composition of dry vegetables in cake, more suitable for the troops, in lieu of the finer and more expensive quality then issued in boxes. They were composed of one vegetable only, and were much too highly dried, having thus lost their aroma as well as their nutritious qualities. I therefore proposed that the firm of Messrs. Chollet, in Paris, should prepare a sample of cakes of dried vegetables, to be called coarse julienne, for the army. Each hundredweight of fresh vegetables was to consist of the following proportions:--

Twenty pounds of carrots, twenty pounds of turnips, ten of parsnips, fifteen of onions, twenty of cabbage, five of celery, and ten of leeks; with one pound of aromatic seasoning, composed of four ounces of thyme, four of winter savory, two of bayleaf, four of pepper, and an ounce of cloves; the whole to be pulverized and mixed with the vegetables.

Each cake was to serve for one hundred men, and to be marked in compartments of ten rations each, like chocolate cakes, instead of being marked upon the wrapper, which is always torn off when the vegetables are issued, and the soldiers cannot tell about quantity. This plan will obviate that evil; for I had seen in camp piles of this excellent vegetable rising pyramidically from the soldiers’ canteen pan while cooking, in consequence of their having put in the best part of three days’ rations instead of one. The dry rations are issued for three days at a time.

My proposition having met with the approval of the authorities, was at once forwarded to the War Office.

I also promised to submit to Commissary Filder’s notice several plans for improvement in the distribution of the meat.

“Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “anything you may propose or point out as an improvement will, so far as it is practicable, be carried out. Lose no time; the sooner you let us have it the better.”

After this interview, I went to inspect the kitchen, where I saw Mr. Fitzgerald, the purveyor, to whom I also made my report. As this is the first time I have had the pleasure of introducing this gentleman to the notice of my readers, it would be an omission on my part were I not to return my grateful acknowledgments for the readiness with which he at all times assisted me to obtain what I required for the hospitals in the Crimea. It is true he was at first rather reluctant; this I attributed to his not having received the proper instructions from the authorities.

Having the best part of the day before me, I set off at a gallop towards head-quarters, intending to keep the promise I had made Lord Raglan respecting his dilapidated culinary department, and also to make the acquaintance of M. Armand, his chef de cuisine. As I was not well acquainted with the road across the country, I made up my mind to follow the high one which passes close to head-quarters. When about half-way, I perceived a group of officers standing by the road-side round a kind of tent much like a gipsy tent, but considerably larger. This excited my interest, and I was riding towards it, when, to my astonishment, several voices called out--“Soyer! Soyer! come here--come this way!” I readily complied with the invitation, and found two or three gentlemen whom I had the pleasure of knowing. During our conversation, an old dame of a jovial appearance, but a few shades darker than the white lily, issued from the tent, bawling out, in order to make her voice heard above the noise, “Who is my new son?” to which one of the officers replied, “Monsieur Soyer, to be sure; don’t you know him?”

“God bless me, my son, are you Monsieur Soyer of whom I heard so much in Jamaica? Well, to be sure! I have sold many and many a score of your Relish and other sauces--God knows how many.”

“My dear lady,” said I, “don’t blame me for that; I assure you I am not at all offended with you for so doing, and shall allow you to sell as much more in the Crimea.”

“So I would if I could only get them. Bless me, I had a gross about ten days ago, and they are all gone; nor can I get any more for another month perhaps. Come down, my son, and take a glass of champagne with my old friend, Sir John Campbell.”

I immediately alighted, and Sir John came towards me and shook me heartily by the hand, saying, “Welcome to the seat of war, Monsieur Soyer!”

“Many thanks, general, for your kind wishes. I had the pleasure of leaving my card at Cathcart’s Hill the other day.”

“You did; and I was very sorry that I was out when you called; but mind, you must come and dine with me some day.”

“Thank you, general, I shall do myself the honour.”

“Now, Mrs. Seacole, give us another bottle of champagne.”

“Mrs. Seacole,” I exclaimed; “is that lady the celebrated Mrs. Seacole?”

“Of course,” said the general.

She then came forth from her bivouac cellar, with two bottles in her hands, exclaiming, “I shall stand mine, and no mistake.”

We all declared it would never do for a lady to stand treat in the Crimea.

“Lord bless you, Monsieur Soyer,” said the lady, “don’t you know me?”

“Yes, I do now, my dear madam.”

“Well, all those fine fellows you see here are my Jamaica sons--are you not?” said she, opening the champagne, and addressing the general.

“We are, Mrs. Seacole, and a very good mother you have been to us.”

“I have known you, general, for many years.”

“Well, here’s a health to all.”

We emptied our glasses, and returned the compliment. The general then left, again expressing his desire to see me at Cathcart’s Hill.

“Walk inside, walk inside, my sons; you will be better there--it is not so hot. Go in, Monsieur Soyer.”

No sooner had we entered than the old lady expressed her desire to consult me about what she should do to make money in her new speculation, in which she had embarked a large capital, pointing to two iron houses in course of construction on the other side of the road. She told me that her intention was to have beds there for visitors, which I persuaded her not to do, saying, “All the visitors--and they are few in number--sleep on board the vessels in the harbour, and the officers under canvass in the camp. Lay in a good stock of hams, wines, spirits, ale and porter, sauces, pickles, and a few preserves and dry vegetables--in short, anything which will not spoil by keeping.”

“Yes,” said she, “I mean to have all that.”

“In that case you will no doubt make money, as you are so well known to all the army.”

“I assure you, the last time Lord Raglan passed here, he spoke to me for more than ten minutes, and promised to do all he could for me.”

“That’s right,” we all said.

“I know Miss Nightingale too. She was very kind to me when I passed through Scutari, on my way here; she gave me lodging and everything I required, in the hospital.”

“We passed this way a few days before Miss Nightingale was taken ill,” said I.

“I know you did; and I am sure, if the lady had known I was here, she would have called to see me. Thank God, I hear she is quite out of danger.”

“Yes, she is improving.”

“When you see her, present my best respects, and tell the dear lady that I shall go and see her.”

“I will, Mrs. Seacole. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, my son.”

On getting up in a hurry to be off, I missed my horse, and found one of the officers’ chargers, which had been left in charge of the same man to whom I had given mine, led by a Zouave. Upon inquiring of the Zouave where the man had gone, he informed me that he did not know, but that he had given him a shilling (which he showed me) to hold this animal for, as far as he could understand, about an hour, while he went on the grey in the direction of head-quarters. I called Mrs. Seacole out, and told her what had happened. She stepped up to the Zouave, and he began talking so fast, that I shall not forget the expression he made as long as I live. His speech may be thus translated: “By the name of Jupiter! I have neither stolen nor sold your horse. Look at me! (showing his corporation.) If you like, captain, to lend me this quadruped, I will soon find the voyiou (meaning a low rascal). There is my name and the number of my regiment. We are encamped near the French head-quarters.”

All this time Mrs. Seacole had been looking about, and every grey pony she saw far or near was mine--at least in her eyes. The two officers mounted their horses, and went one one way and the other another, but soon returned, having found nothing. Having sent in all directions without being able to obtain any trace of the pony, we concluded that the animal was lost. I take this opportunity of publicly thanking those two gentlemen for the vivid interest they took in trying to find the borrowed steed. I very much regret that I do not recollect their names. They will no doubt remember the circumstance if this little work falls into their hands.[14]

All our efforts to find the pony being useless, I made up my mind to walk back to Balaklava. Just as I was thanking Mrs. Seacole for her extraordinary exertions, Mr. Day, her partner, came in, and he advised me to go at once to the Hue and Cry, at head-quarters.

“How am I to do this?” I asked.

“Take my pony. It is not twenty minutes’ ride from hence; and you will stand a good chance of getting it back, especially if the man who held it was an Englishman. He is sure to be found in the English camp.”

Thanking him for his kindness, I mounted, and started full gallop for head-quarters. I made inquiries at the Post-office, where I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Russell, who introduced me to Mr. Angel, the postmaster. I then inquired for the Hue and Cry, and related the circumstances under which I had lost my pony. All seemed highly amused. They laughed heartily at my expense, and I could not help joining in the merriment. Mr. Angel invited me to dine with him, having a few friends that evening to join his popotte.

“I am much obliged, my dear sir; but I am staying at Balaklava, and I suppose you dine late.”

“About six o’clock,” replied Mr. Angel. “You can sleep here. We have no bed, it’s true; but I can lend you a blanket; and there is a small hut, which is empty, you can have all to yourself. Mr. Bracebridge slept there the night before last, when on a visit to Captain Boucher, a friend of his.”

“Oh, as far as that goes, I shall be comfortable enough.”

“Then you will dine with me?”

“I will,” said I, “and am much obliged for your kind invitation.”

I thought by accepting it, I should have an excellent opportunity of looking out for my pony in the morning, if I did not happen to find it that night; I therefore went to the Hue and Cry, and gave the best description, to my knowledge, as I had not had the honour of his acquaintance long, and did not know of any private marks by which he might be recognised. They gave me but faint hopes of seeing it again, and by way of comforting me, showed me a long list of missing horses, mules, and ponies, enough to fill half a column of the Times.

“I don’t care so much about the pony, as that can be replaced; but the saddle is a new one from London, and neither the animal nor the saddle belong to me.”

“You may, perhaps,” said one, “find the horse, but not the saddle, especially if it is gone to the French camp, for, believe me, the Zouaves are very fond of English saddles, as well as everything they can get hold of which does not require feeding; so they will probably keep the saddle and turn the horse loose. At all events, we will do what we can for you; but I advise you to look out for yourself.”

It was then about four o’clock, and I had an hour’s ride about the camp, but it was all in vain. Every inquiry proved fruitless; and I could not obtain the slightest clue to the lost pony. I could not help smiling when I recollected Dr. Hadley’s last words, “You may lose the horse but don’t lose the saddle.” Hoping for better luck next day, I returned to head-quarters, and begged Lord Raglan’s groom to give Mr. Day’s pony a night’s lodging. Making sure Monsieur Armand would be in, I went to see him. He was rather busy, but he received me very politely, and showed me what he called his kitchen, though it had not the slightest claim to the title, as it was all but destitute of culinary utensils. The provisions were of inferior quality; but, as he told me, the best he could procure. I then offered my services if I could be of any use in getting stoves or a small oven erected.

“Ever since I have been here,” he replied, “I have been asking for one or two charcoal stoves and a few shelves, but not a thing can I obtain for love or money.”

“Upon my word you surprise me! How can that be in the house of the Commander-in-chief? Truly, every one has much to do.”

“Such is the case.”

“Never mind; I think I shall be able to get something done for you, as his lordship has spoken to me upon the subject.”

“I shall be much obliged to you if you will,” said he; and then pointed out the principal things he required, which were soon afterwards furnished.

As it was nearly six o’clock, I left him, and returned to the Post-office, where a sumptuous table was laid out. There was actually a tablecloth and real plates, knives, forks, and various kinds of glasses. In fact, for the Crimea, it was as the French say, épatant. We sat down six to dinner; and had some very strong preserved soup, a very nice tough fowl--the remainder of the bill of fare was made from the ration meat. We had very good wine; and, perhaps, never was a dinner better relished, or accompanied with more mirth and jokes. Russell the great was the hero, besides having an Angel for the host. Towards eight o’clock, the party amounted to about fifteen, as far as we could discern through the clouded atmosphere with which the room was filled. Every one was smoking; some large chibouques, long and short pipes, a few cigars, but no cigarettes. The unexpected increase to our party, I must observe, was partly owing to our vocal abilities, several lively choruses having attracted Mr. Angel’s illustrious neighbours, as the denizens of the woods were allured by the melody of Orpheus.

Our mirth at last became so boisterous that it not only brought around us men of all ranks, but attracted the attention of the Commander-in-chief, who sent to inquire what the noise was about. This we considered a rather inharmonious inquiry, but found that, by decreasing the pitch of our vocal organs from allegro to piano, we should produce as much effect, with less noise, as his lordship wisely called it; though I heard the next day, that Lord Raglan, who was sitting at his door enjoying the fresh air with several gentlemen of his staff, enjoyed it, and gave orders that we should not be disturbed. Complaints poured in from the numerous tents which surrounded head-quarters. It was then about ten o’clock, which is equivalent to twelve or one p.m. in London. The mot d’ordre from our chairman was, “Tell those who cannot sleep to join our bacchanalian party.” So many took the hint, that no room could at length be obtained in the modern Crimean Temple of Momus.

At last the order took a more positive character, for the very Angel who was presiding, observed, and very justly, that they were all playing the devil with him, and still more so with his cellar, which being but meagerly stocked, could not long stand so severe an attack. He therefore begged all new comers to go back to their quarters, and bring or send the liquid requisite to keep up the spirits of the guests till midnight--which was done. Every one, like Cinderella, disappeared, by slipping quietly out at the most convenient opportunity.

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XX. EXPEDITIONS ON HORSE AND ON FOOT

Comfortable couch--A terrible sortie--The borrowed animal reclaimed--A bad position--Lord Raglan lends me another steed--General Estcourt--Female improvements--Visit to the French camp--A French canteen--A lively vivandière--French regimental kitchens--Discoveries--Interview with Colonel Steele--Pertinent remarks--A carriage--Mrs. Estcourt and her sister--General Camp Hospital--Cathcart’s Hill--Strange reports--Concert à la Soyer--Receipt for a stew--Conversation with Sir John Campbell--A flag of truce--A good peep at Sebastopol--A cavalcade of amateurs--A sad spectacle--A narrow escape--Noisy night.

Next morning, I found myself wrapped up in a horse-cloth, with a pair of top-boots for a pillow. The unfeeling and ungrateful board to which I had intrusted my precious limbs, had by the morning stamped his patron’s seal upon my back. The following day we learnt that a terrible sortie had taken place in the night, and that there had been a severe loss of men on both sides. At an early hour the court-yard was thronged with officers; despatches were flying in every direction; the cannon was roaring as usual, but the fusillade had ceased. I then went to the stable for my pony, when I found the owner, Mr. Day, upon his back, just going home.

“Ah, Monsieur Soyer, I made sure that you had lost my pony as well as your own. I expected you back immediately, being in want of it.”

“I was not aware of that, or I would have walked from your place sooner than have deprived you of it.”

“Oh, never mind. Have you heard anything of your animal?”

“No! but I am going to look after him this morning. That is the reason why I slept at head-quarters last night.”

“I am going about the camp,” said he, “and will inquire for you.”

He then started, of course leaving me without a horse, and with dreadful pains in my back and legs, which I attributed to the softness of the bed with which I had been favoured; though I could not boast of a single feather, like that Tocrisse of a recruit, who took one out of his master’s feather bed, laid it down on the boarded floor of his hut, and next morning told his companions that his master must be foolish to sleep upon a feather bed.

“Why?” asked they.

“Why, if one feather is so hard, what must the lot the captain sleeps upon be?”

The worst of my position was, how to get another horse, as it was impossible for me to walk all day about the camp, being so stiff and tired. I went to Lord Raglan’s coachman, and inquired if he had one to spare. He replied--

“Monsieur Soyer, we can spare a pony for you, but you must ask permission of the master of the horse or Lord Raglan, as I have special orders not to lend one upon my own responsibility. I am sure his lordship will let you have it immediately.”

At this moment I caught sight of Lord Raglan’s valet, and I begged him to make the request; which he did, and came to tell me that his lordship desired I should have it by all means. Once more mounted, I made an early call upon the friends of the previous night, most of whom resided round head-quarters. I had the pleasure of being introduced to General Estcourt, who took me to see the printing press where my receipts for the army were done--some of which have appeared in the public press. Afterwards I went with him to his quarters, which, though small, were very neatly arranged. The taste was not military, and I thought that I detected the work of a female hand, which I could not help remarking to the general.

“You are right, Monsieur,” said he, smiling--“it has only lately been arranged by ladies. Mrs. Estcourt and my sister are here, and this is a little bit of their handywork. They are staying on board ship at Balaklava, and come here every day. Before they arrived I had only this small room (showing me his bed made upon boards) where I sleep as well as ever I did in my life. The only thing which awakes me in the night is when the cannon ceases firing--I am so used to it.”

“I believe that, general, and have no doubt you seldom miss hearing a report. In fact, you are the nearest of those at head-quarters to Sebastopol.”

I then inquired about the sortie of the previous night. The general said he did not know the result of it, and very kindly invited me to breakfast, which I declined, having to go round the French camp in search of my pony.

“I shall be happy,” said General Estcourt, “to do anything I can for you; and if you call in the afternoon, my wife and her sister will be here, and I will introduce you to them.”

Thanking him kindly, I retired, and proceeded round the French camp making inquiries; then to their head-quarters, where I met Captain Boucher, General Canrobert’s aide-de-camp, with whom I had the pleasure of travelling. He promised to introduce me to the general, who, he said, would be very glad to see me. Upon my telling him about my pony, he remarked--

“If he is in our camp you are sure to get him back, for we have put a stop to that kind of piracy by very severe punishment. They used to come and steal our horses from our very stables; but tell me what sort of a horse he is, and I will advertise him with the others, and we shall know in less than five or six hours if he is in our camp? the plan we have adopted cannot fail.”

Having described the animal to the captain, I thanked him for his kindness.

Considering my French review terminated, I thought of returning at once to the English head-quarters, having to see several of the authorities upon business. On my way I happened to pass by a nice French canteen. I inquired if I could get any breakfast? A rather stout vivandière, dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Guard, very politely said to me:

“What a stupid question to ask! Do you think we have not everything required for the purpose here? Perhaps, Captain of the Lord knows what regiment, you think we have come out merely to thread pearls, sing ‘Partant pour la Syrie,’ and dance the Fandango.”

On my way I visited several regimental kitchens and tasted the soup. Some was better than at others. They had no vegetables excepting some vegetable marrow--more likely to spoil the soup than improve it. I made several important discoveries respecting the system of cooking pursued in the French camp, after visiting, with some of my new acquaintances, a row of twelve kitchens, which number, they informed me, was required for each regiment--being at the rate of one per company. One man was told off as cook for every squad or mess of sixteen. The buildings were composed of mud and stone, and covered an extent of about four hundred yards. I bade my brave companions farewell, and left them quite a happy man, having entirely forgotten horse and saddle, in making the discovery that in lieu of four hundred yards of space, a dozen buildings, and about eighty men for each regiment, an immense consumption of fuel, and smoke enough to blind three parts of the army--as the men were all cooks in turn--my system was simple, effective, and vastly superior to that even of the French, which had hitherto always been considered as preferable to the English. This was indeed the case, for all French soldiers understand a little cooking, and their canteen, pan was far superior to that in use amongst the English troops, which I condemned at first sight in the camp at Chobham.

I returned to head-quarters, intending to communicate my discovery to Lord Raglan; but learning that he was very busy, and would not be disengaged till evening, I went to Colonel Steele, who, in spite of the pressure of business, gave me an immediate audience, and promised to speak to Lord Raglan on the subject. Head-quarters were that day, in a manner, taken by storm. They were literally besieged, and this gave me an opportunity of getting acquainted with several officers and other officials whom I had not the pleasure of knowing--or, at least, only by sight. Amongst these were Sir George Brown, Sir W. Codrington, Sir Colin Campbell, Lord Rokeby, Captain Whitmore, and Brevet-Major A. Macdonald.

Lord Raglan passed me in the passage, and said, “You wish to see me, Monsieur Soyer?”

Knowing his lordship was much occupied, I replied, “Colonel Steele will give you the particulars that I came to communicate.”

“That will do; but have you found your horse?”

“No, my lord.”

“I have been to visit Miss Nightingale. She is still very ill. Bad job, bad job, poor lady!” he continued, walking away towards Colonel Steele’s office, with his hands full of papers.

After this I called upon Doctor Hall, with whom I had a few minutes’ conversation upon business. Louis was somewhere about, busily engaged, and, as usual, unwilling to give a direct reply, no matter what question you put to him. He came to see me. I inquired if he knew anything about the sortie of the previous night, upon which he answered that the black horse he rode the day before had thrown him in the mud, and made him in such a mess. I replied in his style:

“The sun is very hot to-day.”

Upon which he observed, “he never was there in his life.”

I begged of him to tell me how he was to-morrow.

“Don’t believe that,” said he; “it is quite false.”

An interesting young man indeed was Louis.

A very great curiosity then made its appearance, breaking the thread of our scientific conversation. What, reader, do you think it was? A carriage!--a thing unknown in the camp--or at least a bad imitation of one--drawn by two very obstinate mules, one pulling against the other, which seemed to amuse my intelligent friend Louis, who never liked to see anything going on smoothly. General Estcourt went out to meet it, and two ladies alighted. To this Louis thoroughly objected, saying--“Ladies, indeed! they are the two female Zouaves who performed in the Anglaises pour Rire, at the theatre in their camp. One,” said he, “is Jean Huguet--the other Panaudet, aide-de-camp to the drum-major of a regiment of cavalry. The first plays Lady Painbeche in that tragedy--the other, Lady Don’t-you-wish-you-may-get-it.”

Very fertile indeed was the brain of Louis at composition of the higher school; and, like Marplot, never wishing to see anything in its right light, he succeeded admirably. The sight of a carriage was something wonderful, but two ladies at once, and fashionably dressed, was too much good-luck. I advanced towards them, and had the honour of being introduced by the general to Mrs. Estcourt and his sister. The general invited me to walk in, and I had the honour of taking a glass of wine with the fair--who might well be called fairies at the time--ladies being so scarce, in fact, all but invisible, in the Crimea.

After a short, but very interesting, conversation with the ladies, I retired, leaving some copies of my receipts with Mrs. Estcourt, who kindly undertook to look at the proofs before printing. Thence I proceeded to the General Camp Hospital, and there met Doctor Mouatt, who told me he was waiting for the bricks for his oven from the Ordnance Office at head-quarters. I informed him that I had given in the plan for a kitchen, and endeavoured to convince him of the necessity of having it done at once.

“I am well aware of that, and it shall be attended to.”

All inquiries respecting my pony were fruitless. At last, upon asking at a canteen, a soldier told me he had heard of one being found in some regiment, but could not tell me which one, though he thought it was somewhere about Cathcart’s Hill.

On arriving at Cathcart’s Hill, I met Sir John Campbell, who invited me to take some refreshment and a glass of Bordeaux. We descended to his rocky abode in front of Sebastopol, whence you could trace every shot or shell which passed, as well as view the whole city. On recounting my adventure of the lost pony, and of my being absent two days from Balaklava,

“We heard,” said the aide-de-camp to Sir John, “that you had lost two ponies.”

“No! no!” said I, “one at a time is quite enough, captain.”

“I can assure you that is the joke at head-quarters. I also heard of your concert à la Soyer.”

“We spent a regular London evening,” I replied.

“I wish I had been there,” said the general; “we are getting very dull in our division. Before you go, Mons. Soyer, come and see my kitchen.”

“I will, general.”

Though very small, it was more deserving that title than the one at Lord Raglan’s.

“Here,” said Sir John, “is our ration meat; I am sure you cannot make a tempting dish out of these materials, especially from the salt meat, which requires so much soaking, it is so hard.”

“Well, general, I will not say I can make a dish worthy of Lucullus out of this; but I will try to make something palatable and fit to eat.”

“I can assure you, Monsieur Soyer, that if you succeed, it will be conferring a great boon upon the army; and you must give them the receipts.”

I did as follows: I cut about two pounds of salt beef, and as much salt pork, in pieces of about a quarter of a pound in weight, placed them, in a canteen pan with cold water, and set it on the fire. When lukewarm, I took the pan off, washed the meat well, and threw the water away. I then added three pints of fresh water, a quarter of a pound of onions sliced, two ounces of sugar, a teaspoonful of pepper, and two ounces of rice. I set it to stew and simmer gently for two hours. The general said:--

“You must come and dine with us about that time.”

“I should certainly much like to taste it, general; but I must be at Balaklava before seven o’clock to-night. To-morrow I am coming over to the General Hospital, and if you will be kind enough to order some to be saved for me, that I may taste it when I come, I shall esteem it a great favour.”

“I will do so, Monsieur Soyer, but try and be here to dinner. We shall dine about five o’clock.”

The stew by this time began to simmer, and upon tasting the broth, I found it already very palatable, without being too salt. I begged of the cook to let it simmer very gently, which he promised to do.

We prepared to separate. Before leaving, I said, “The soldiers will be able to do their rations the same way. I have recommended it to Commissary Filder, who has agreed to it, and consented that the salt rations should be issued the night before, thus giving the soldiers time to soak the meat well. In consequence of this, it will require less sugar; although it is rumoured that a quarter of an ounce is to be added to their daily rations. They will then have as much as they require; and when my new field-stoves are issued, they will admit both of the soaking and the cooking of the meat; and various messes can be made, almost impracticable in the small tin canteens now in use.”

I then told the general of my visit to the French kitchens, and what I had seen there. He agreed with me that they employed too many men, especially in time of war. It is true that the French soldiers understood cooking much better than our men did, but, nevertheless, their system admitted of great improvements. We were then standing in front of Sir John’s cave facing Sebastopol. Of a sudden all the batteries ceased firing, and Sir John exclaimed, “Hallo! there is a flag of truce hoisted on the Russian side, and it is accepted. No doubt it is for leave to bury the dead. Now is the time to have a good peep at Sebastopol, Mons. Soyer; you have two hours for that purpose.”

The generals, staff officers, and a number of military men who were present as lookers-on, started off; and I of course followed, making sure Sebastopol was not more than a mile and a half or two miles distant--which, à vol d’oiseau, it was not; but there were four or five deep ravines, which made the distance much longer. The few who started from the hill were joined by many on the road, and we soon formed a small cavalcade of amateurs. I understood, from several parties of whom I inquired, that we should have plenty of time to go and return before the recommencement of hostilities, and that there was not, therefore, the slightest danger. As it was on the French side the sortie had taken place, some went one way and some another; and only about six of us went towards the French trenches. Upon our arrival we experienced some difficulty in getting in, and it was full twenty minutes before they would admit us.

One of the gentlemen present--an English officer, unknown to me--wrote our names upon his card, and, by order of the commandant of a battery, we were allowed to enter. The sight is too painful to dwell upon, from the immense numbers of dead and wounded piled one upon the other. They were mostly young men, who had fallen so bravely in defence of their country in this glorious, though disastrous, combat. I could not help remarking, both in the French and Russian dead, that those who had been killed by gun-shots passing through the body lay as if they had fallen in to a sweet slumber, with a smile upon their cold lips, and a happy and pleasing expression of countenance, very different to the fearful and contorted appearance generally presented, when from our comfortable homes we are summoned by that “strict serjeant--Death,” in consequence of old age or illness. This induced me to say to my companions in the trenches, “It appears to me as if death had not time to convey them to his mournful shore, but that the genius of glory had unexpectedly stepped in, and taken possession of their souls, which were now happily ascending to heaven and a better world; while, on the contrary, those who have lost a limb or received serious wounds in the head, appear to have expired in the most painful torture.”

The funeral service was going on rapidly and solemnly on all sides. The main attack had been against the French, and their newly-arrived Imperial Guard suffered considerable loss. The greater part of the time allowed for the armistice had now elapsed, and we therefore thought of retiring. None of us were, however, acquainted with the French trenches, and it took us a considerable time to find our way out. I must have taken a wrong turn, or at least the man to whom I had entrusted my pony had done so, although I had given him a franc, and promised him another on getting out all right, merely to see that no one untied the pony. As he was on duty at the time, and agreed to do this, I trusted him with it. My friends found their steeds where they had left them. Pondering upon my ill-luck, and fearing the pony, which belonged to Lord Raglan, was also lost, I felt much perplexed, so I scrambled up between the gabions, and perceived, to my great joy, a man leading my pony about in the ravine. I met the person with whom I had left him, and he told me that his commanding-officer would not allow the pony to remain there any longer, as hostilities would begin again immediately, and being in sight of the enemy, they might think it belonged to a superior, and direct their fire that way; and having some other duties to perform, he gave my steed in charge of another man, and requested me to give the other man the franc I had promised him.

I ran off to the man, making sure I should reach him in two minutes, but it took me above twenty. Instead of going towards him, I got near the Russian side, and had it been dark instead of day, I have no doubt I should have been taken prisoner, from being unable in the short time left of the suspension of hostilities to retrace my steps. One of the sentries who had seen us came and advised me to be off as soon as possible, as the firing would begin again directly. Thanking him, I got my pony, and was no sooner mounted than the cannonade and fusillade thundered in every direction; and some missiles passed me much too close to be pleasant.

A regiment of French soldiers who had just been relieved from duty, and were on their way to their quarters, told me they were going to the Clocheton, a place of which I had heard, but did not know. I followed them, as the night was fast setting in and rain was falling. I passed it, with a jolly set of fellows, full of song, cognac, and rum; and, as I stood some drink, I was set down in their estimation as a gentleman. I afterwards slept upon some straw, on the floor of the canteen. My horse had a very good meal, and plenty of water, but was compelled to remain out all night, which annoyed me very much. It could not, however, be helped. We had a very noisy night, and several shots were heard hissing over our heads, as we were only a few hundred yards from the small house called the Clocheton, so celebrated and well known in the French camp. It was from that picturesque spot that Monsieur de Bazancourt wrote his popular history of the war.

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XXI. MATTERS GRAVE AND GAY

Kitchens in the Turkish and Sardinian camps--Triumphal entry into Balaklava--Missed for three days--Telegraphed for--Lots of news--My secretary in trouble--Arrival of Lord Ward in the London--The Queen’s birthday in the harbour of Balaklava--Baking on board the floating batteries--Miss Nightingale ordered home--“Who lost the four horses?”--Lord Raglan and Mrs. Roberts--His visit to Miss Nightingale’s sick-bed--Dinner-parties--A Crimean banquet--Sick Sardinians--The dying officer--The last request--An expedition to Kertch--A change of quarters--Samples of bread--Bread-biscuit--Letters to the Times.

At six the next morning I started, and made it my business to visit the kitchens in the Turkish and Sardinian camps, on my way home. At eight I made my triumphal entry into Balaklava. My return seemed to be quite an event, as it had not only been reported that I had lost three horses, but also that I had lost myself. I found, when I got on board the London--which was still vomiting forth troops, horses, guns, and projectiles of all kinds, to feed the voracious appetite of mighty, grand, but very unsociable and terrible Mr. War, with whom I had lately had the unexpected honour of being on a little too familiar terms--that every one had missed me for three days, and the last they had heard of me was that I had been seen going towards Sebastopol at the time the flag of truce was hoisted. No one had seen me return, and they concluded that poor Soyer had either been killed, wounded, or taken prisoner.

I was told that Mr. Bracebridge had been anxiously inquiring for me in every direction, and that P. M. had just gone in a great hurry to the telegraph office, to send word to head-quarters. Seeing the affair was getting rather serious, I set off at full gallop to stop him, and found him in the office, writing the following lines:--

“Monsieur Soyer has been absent from Balaklava these last three days, and has not been heard of. An answer will oblige.”

My unexpected arrival put him in good spirits. I convinced him that I was neither killed, wounded, nor taken prisoner, and having related my adventures, I inquired about business.

The first thing he told me was that Miss Nightingale was getting better. This I knew, having made inquiries on board. Then he informed me that Lord Raglan had visited her. This I also knew. Then that Thomas, my head man, had been all over the camp, hunting for me; that the hospital kitchens were all going on well. He next informed me that Dr. Hadley was morally in deep mourning, not so much on account of his pony, or even myself, but his saddle and bridle, which he said no money could replace, it having been made to order in London. I observed that I was worse off than he was, as from his kindness in lending me the pony, I had been so long away.

“But, P. M., will you be kind enough to jump on that pony, and go to him. Say I will see him in the afternoon, and of course that I shall be happy to pay for both pony and saddle.”

“I will do so; but he told me yesterday that he didn’t care a fig about the pony--it was the saddle he regretted.”

“When did he first hear I had lost it?”

“Why, not four hours after you left. Mrs. Seacole sent all over the camp for it, and some officers who were present at the time brought the news, at which every one laughed; but I assure you the case was getting very serious at last.”

“Never mind--à la guerre comme à la guerre--we must expect something a little out of the way in campaigning.”

“I tell you what, Monsieur Soyer, I began to think it was a great deal out of the way. You have only one life, like the rest of us, and you cannot be spared by us, not even to go to the Russians.”

P. M. started on his mission to Dr. Hadley, and I returned to the London, and wrote the receipt for the composition of the preserved vegetables, which I had promised to Commissary Filder, and took it over myself. On my way I met about a score of friends, or at all events persons who knew me, and had heard the false report. I was informed that Admiral Boxer was much put out about my absence, and at not receiving any tidings about me.

To my great astonishment, I met my secretary on foot, and at once inquired what he had done with the pony, making sure that he had lost it, or that he had been thrown, and the animal had run away, as it was a very mettlesome little creature.

“It is nothing of the kind; it was worse. The brute is marked ‘L. R., head-quarters;’ and before I reached Dr. Hadley’s house, a policeman stopped me and took it away, saying it had been stolen from Monsieur Soyer; and there was a regular row at head-quarters about it. The fellow wanted to take me up, though I told him I was your secretary. And mind you, had it not been for an officer--a friend of yours, who knew me--having dined with us on board the Robert Lowe, I really cannot tell how I should have managed.”

“Where is the pony now?”

“God knows. Perhaps that fellow has stolen it.”

“I hope not. Describe the man. Who was he?”

“A soldier, I believe; but let us go to the Commandant’s, and inquire, for I think he took the pony to the stable-yard.”

Upon making inquiries, we heard the animal had been sent direct to head-quarters. Thus terminated the adventures connected with my first interview with the good and benevolent Mrs. Seacole, whom I have ever since christened La Mère Noire, although she has a fair daughter.

Before the evening was over I had visited the various hospitals, inspected a fresh arrival of provisions--particularly fresh vegetables, which were sent from Constantinople weekly, for the use of the hospitals and camp. These often arrived in a bad state, owing to the heat of the weather, which was intense. The difficulty of transport and distribution throughout the camps rendered the dry composition I had submitted to the Commissariat much preferable, more especially for issue to the troops in camp.

The great event during my unexpected and adventurous absence was the arrival of Lord Ward in his beautiful steamer, the London, filled with all kinds of provisions, to be gratuitously distributed among the soldiers, more as a luxury than a necessity. Provisions were not at this time so scarce as they had been--the soldiers were receiving ample rations. Facility and method in the cooking was what was most required.

THE 24TH OF MAY,--THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY IN THE HARBOUR OF BALAKLAVA.

At midday a royal salute was fired; shouts were heard in all directions, and about noon the band struck up “God save the Queen.” The ships were gaily dressed out with their flags, and this put every sailor in good humour. They were regaled with plenty of roast beef and plum-pudding, and abundance of rum. Tunes struck up in every direction--“Drops of brandy,” “Barley bree,” hornpipes, &c.; but the “Ratcatcher’s Daughter” would have been most in harmony. I was then dining with Captain Shepherd and a party of about ten, on board his superb ship, the Triton. When dinner was over, we left the jovial board to smoke our cigars upon deck. We went to breathe the fresh air, and to watch the frolics of the joyous but rather tumultuous crew, who were performing their nautical steps between decks, to the shrieking sounds of a damaged fiddle and still more damaging fiddler. The tunes we listened to produced upon our ears the effect we anticipated, but the air we were breathing quite the contrary effect upon our noses. Captain Heath, the harbour-master, who was then living on board, also gave a dinner-party that day; and as his numerous guests appeared upon deck, there was quite an array of naval and military men.

I seldom smoke, and I remarked that the air we were so anxious to breathe was anything but wholesome or agreeable. Thereupon the commander of the Diamond observed that an unpleasant odour arose from the sea.

“It does not come from the water,” I replied, “but from the shore.”

“What can it be, Monsieur Soyer?” said he.

“Don’t you know, captain--you who daily visit your naval hospital on the heights, that on that bank are the bodies of the poor unfortunate fellows lost in the Prince, and the sea has washed away the earth which covered them? Some of them are actually on a level with the ground.”

“Impossible,” said he; “I can’t believe it.”

“If you like,” I replied, “I will convince you of the fact.”

Some of those who overheard our conversation begged Captain Shepherd to let us have a boat, with which request the captain complied. It was a fine moonlight night when we started, and we soon reached the spot. The smell had disappeared; so he said I was mistaken.

“Not at all, captain,” said I. “Pray thrust your oar through the soil we are standing upon.”

It was covered with lime, and he did as I requested, and found that what I had stated was correct. We then returned on board, and mentioned the fact. All admitted that it was a dreadful thing, and might bring on cholera. Captains Heath and Shepherd observed that it was intended to throw a mound three feet deep over them, and that it was likely the heavy weather had washed away the gravel. The remains of some of these bodies were plainly visible, the most singular thing being their extraordinary state of preservation.

I noticed that the Board of Health were aware of this, and had taken sanitary measures by having great quantities of lime thrown over the remains. Captain Heath observed that the mound would very likely be completed the following day. I believe that such was the case, for a short time after I saw it was done.

This unpleasant discovery broke up our party sooner than was intended, but it did not disturb the mirth of the sailors; their fun lasted till daybreak. This corner of the harbour was seldom frequented, which no doubt was the reason that the exposure of the bodies had not been noticed sooner. In pointing out this fact to Colonel Hardinge, he observed that under the water his power ceased. Admiral Boxer’s nephew, who was there, remarked that above the level of the water he had no power; so that the tide, alternately washing over and receding from the bodies, led me to infer that neither the naval nor military authorities could remove the nuisance, as it must have been well known to many that the bodies from the wreck were deposited there.

The floating bakeries called the Bruiser and the Abundance were now ready to commence baking, and were visited by all the authorities--Lord Raglan, Sir John Macneil, Colonel Tulloch, Commissary Filder, Dr. Sutherland, the Admiral and the Commandant, &c. The vessels were so crowded, that Captain Thompson, with whom I had the pleasure of being well acquainted, expressed his fears of never being able to make a fair beginning. Good bread was at that time, I must say, the most important thing wanted. Bakeries were in course of erection at Kadikoi, so that between the steamers and them about twenty-five or thirty thousand rations could be made, producing a supply of bread four days per week, and the other three biscuit. No one could then wish for better field rations.

While at the Sanatorium, making inquiry about Miss Nightingale, I heard from the purveyor that the doctor’s advice was that she should go direct to England, when able to travel. My friend, Dr. Hadley, whom I was going to face boldly, and scold for causing me so much trouble with his saddle and bridle, had been waiting anxiously for my return. In despair, he had gone out in search of them. I therefore did not see, though I heard much about him.

Having met Mr. Parker, the clergyman, he informed me that he had been told that I had lost four horses in three days--viz., three myself and my secretary one, and that none of them belonged to me. Upon this I replied, “Therein lies the merit of being trusted. Had they been my own it would have been nothing, as any fool can manage to lose his own horse, but it requires a good deal of skill and standing in society to lose four belonging to other persons, in so short a space of time.”

My mishap afforded much amusement; and the standing jest in camp for some time was, “Who lost the four horses?” I was very anxious to know the actual state of Miss Nightingale’s health, and went to her hut to inquire. I found Mrs. Roberts, who was quite astonished and very much delighted to see me.

“Thank God, Monsieur Soyer,” she exclaimed, “you are here again. We have all been in such a way about you. Why, it was reported that you had been taken prisoner by the Russians. I must go and tell Miss Nightingale you are found again.”

“Don’t disturb her now. I understand Lord Raglan has been to see her.”

“Yes, he has, and I made a serious mistake. It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when he came. Miss Nightingale was dozing, after a very restless night. We had a storm that day, and it was very wet.”

“Pray go on, madam,” said I, seeing she made a pause.

“Well, sir, I was in my room sewing, when two men on horseback, wrapped in large gutta-percha cloaks, and dripping wet, knocked at the door. I went out, and one inquired in which hut Miss Nightingale resided. He spoke so loud, that I said, ‘Hist! hist! Don’t make such a horrible noise as that, my man,’ at the same time making a sign with both hands for him to be quiet. He then repeated his question, but not in so loud a tone. I told him this was the hut.’

“‘All right,’ said he, jumping from his horse, and he was walking straight in, when I pushed him back, asking him what he meant and whom he wanted.

“‘Miss Nightingale,’ said he.

“‘And pray who are you?’

“‘Oh, only a soldier,’ was his reply; ‘but I must see her--I have come a long way--my name is Raglan--she knows me very well.’

“Miss Nightingale overhearing him, called me in, saying, ‘Oh! Mrs. Roberts, it is Lord Raglan. Pray tell him I have a very bad fever, and it will be dangerous for him to come near me.’

“‘I have no fear of fever or anything else.’ said Lord Raglan.

“And before I had time to turn round, in came his lordship. He took up a stool, sat down at the foot of the bed, and kindly asked Miss Nightingale how she was, expressing his sorrow at her illness, and thanking and praising her for the good she had done for the troops. He wished her a speedy recovery, and hoped that she might be able to continue her charitable and invaluable exertions, so highly appreciated by every one, as well as by himself. He then bade Miss Nightingale good-bye, and went away. As he was going out, I wished to apologize.

“‘No! no! not at all, my dear lady,’ said Lord Raglan; ‘you did very right; for I perceive that Miss Nightingale has not yet received my letter, in which I announced my intention of paying her a visit to-day--having previously inquired of the doctor if she could be seen.’”

“No doubt,” I said, “his lordship quite enjoyed the fun.”

“I think he did, for they were laughing so when they went away. However, it did my mistress no good. She became very nervous afterwards, and was worse for a day or two; but she is doing well now. I am sure his lordship would be very sorry if he knew that such was the case.”

“That he would; for he did it out of pure respect and kindness.”

“Exactly. I never heard a gentleman speak more kindly to any one. But only fancy, sir, what fun for me to try to turn the Commander-in-chief out of doors.”

“How were you to tell who it was? And supposing you knew, even then you would have done right, as you had not received his lordship’s letter, and had special orders from the doctor to let no one in, not even Mr. Bracebridge.”

“Mr. Bracebridge came two or three times a-day. The doctors recommend Miss Nightingale to go to London as soon as possible; but, Lord bless you, sir! she will not be in a fit state for removal for a fortnight or three weeks.”

“I am sorry to hear that, because I should have liked to go back to Scutari with her. My field-stoves have not arrived, and Jullien, my head man at Scutari, has been ill; so I must look sharp after the hospitals on the Bosphorus, as my principal object in coming out was to set them to rights. In fact, I only offered my services for the Barrack Hospital, as I had not at that time heard of the others,--viz., Kululee, the General, and the Palace Hospitals.”

“You must not rely upon what I say, Monsieur Soyer; for we might be off sooner.”

“How are my kitchens going on?”

“Oh, very well indeed now, sir.”

“I am sure to see Mr. Bracebridge on board to-day; and when Miss Nightingale is better, I will come daily and make some delicate broth, pudding, or jelly for her. Doctor Henderson tells me that as soon as he can put his illustrious patient under my care he will do so; then I shall require your assistance, as I consider you an excellent extra-diet cook.”

The weather having set in fine, everything became more cheerful. Small dinner parties were given by the Guards and the Cavalry. Several gentlemen, at the head of whom was Colonel Carleton, clubbed together and engaged a man cook, who turned out a tolerable good dinner. He cooked almost al fresco. Those regiments stationed close to Balaklava fared the best, as they could procure provisions from the stewards of the vessels in harbour. Colonel Carleton, one of our modern epicures, whom. I had the pleasure of dining with while encamped there, gave us an excellent dinner; and, for several reasons, never invited more than five guests to dine with him:--firstly, from his good sense as a gourmet; and, secondly, having no room for more. Dinner invitations poured in from all quarters, both from sea and land. For some time, it appeared as if the champagne corks were firing instead of the cannon at Sebastopol, as the wind was in the wrong direction, and the report of the guns was scarcely heard at Balaklava. It took me about an hour every morning to write apologies to invitations--so numerous were they, and my duties would not admit of my dining out every day. Moreover, the medical gentlemen then strongly recommended moderation and care in the use of food.

There was, however, one unexpected invitation I could not decline. One evening, as I was returning late from the camp, I met several of the heroes of Balaklava; amongst these Colonel Peel and Major Cook of the 11th Hussars, with whom I had the pleasure of being acquainted at Scutari. They would take no refusal, so I was compelled to accompany them to their mess-room and dine with them, which invite I was not long accepting, requiring at the time no end of restoratives for myself and charger, after a hard day’s duty. It was indeed a splendid place for the Crimea--the camp being still in the infancy of luxury. A table was laid for sixteen guests, who had wisely opened a kind of club in a large hut. The rations were artistically turned to good account, and numerous little extras were procured from Balaklava, particularly fish. Two fine clout, or knotted turbots,[15] with the et-ceteras, gave an appearance of luxurious festivity; and though no one could boast of the elegance of the service, at all events there were a few plates, knives, and forks upon the table--at that time luxuries were not requisite. Good health--a ferocious appetite--lots of capital ale, porter, sherry, port, champagne--laughter, puns, and fun in abundance--witty anecdotes, and plenty of songs, good, bad, and indifferent, prevailed. The sixteen officers were joined by about twenty more after dinner. They sat down anywhere and everywhere, even out of doors. It was, in fact, the most martial festival I had seen during my visit to the Crimea, and quite cast in the shade our former semi-banquet at head-quarters.

It was midnight ere this jovial party broke up; and a few minutes after I was on my way home. The sentry on duty at the Col of Balaklava was calling out, with the lungs of a Stentor, “Who goes there?” to a group bearing lighted torches coming towards him; and several voices, in a mournful tone, replied, “Friends.”

“Pass, friends.” A sudden change of scene and sensation soon took place! On approaching the group, and inquiring what was the matter, I perceived four Sardinian soldiers bearing a sick officer upon a stretcher. He was followed by several others. The Sardinians at that time suffered terribly from fever and cholera, and their daily loss of men was something fearful. They were admitted to the General Hospital, as there was not sufficient room in their own.

Following the group with solemn interest as far as the General Hospital, I learned that the precious burden they were carrying was one of the bravest officers of this small though perfect model of an army. It was a Major Crossetti, in the bloom of life, his age only six-and-thirty, who was suddenly attacked by cholera; and Miss Wear (the head lady under Miss Nightingale) begged of me to go and offer consolation, as well as to interpret and explain to the doctors what his servant required. He had then only just been attacked. In less than two hours, the fatal malady had increased to that extent that no hope was entertained of saving him, though every attention had been immediately afforded. Alas! all was of no avail.

The contraction and sudden change of one of the finest and noblest military faces I ever beheld, graced by a beard of an auburn tinge, to the hideous transformation caused by that awful disease, will never be effaced from my memory, and is far too piteous to be described. I remained with him more than three hours, but he died during the night; his poor servant, a Savoyard, who had been with him from his boyhood, wept bitterly. Miss Wear, though very unwell, remained at his side till he had expired. He kept asking, his moist hand clasped in mine, “Pensez-vous que je vais mourir?”--Do you think I am about to die?

“No, no! impossible, so young!” I ejaculated.

“I would not care if it were on the field of battle; but I have done nothing for my country in this war.”

The words I addressed to him seemed to console him greatly. Miss Wear, however, informed me privately that the case had taken such a turn that nothing could save him.

A few days prior to my departure from the Crimea, my final reminiscence of this noble departed soldier was to see his name engraved on marble in letters of gold on the grand national Sardinian Monument so picturesquely situated on the summit of the high rock above the Sanatorium.

A few days after this, the London and its bridge was in more confusion than ever, and the landing of the Sardinian troops appeared a mere trifle compared with this unexpected movement. It was the departure of the fleet for Kertch, and the whole of the troops, horses, provisions, ammunition, &c., passed over our then almost uninhabitable City of London. I must say, the precision and celerity with which this fleet was embarked and despatched was admirable. The evening before, I had promised to go early and superintend the cooking of one of the regiments, when, to my great surprise, I found the colonel, his officers, and men upon deck just embarking. I was with them the afternoon before till three o’clock, and they then knew nothing about it. Admiral Boxer came and informed me that the London was to follow the expedition, and he was under the necessity of removing us, not much to our sorrow, for the everlasting thoroughfare made our nautical London very disagreeable; and it was with great delight that we left town for a quieter and better habitation, observing at the same time to the admiral, that I feared I was in disgrace both with the army and navy.

“Why so, Monsieur Soyer?”

“Because the Minister-at-War turned me out of London at a few days’ notice, and you, admiral, do the same kind of thing in as many minutes. You are about transferring me, it seems, to the Baraguay d’Hilliers.”

“Ah, and a fine ship she is, too, Monsieur Soyer.”

Sir John Macneil and Colonel Tulloch had quitted the Baraguay d’Hilliers, a very fine vessel, and we had their apartment in the state cabin, so called because it was so large and commodious. The Baraguay d’Hilliers was moored next to the Abundance, and so close that we were able to walk from one ship to the other, which gave me the facility of watching the process and system of that important floating bakery, as well as the perfection of its mechanism. The first two samples of bread made were, one very white, and the other rather brown. Captain Johnson asked me which I liked best. I replied, “The brown, by all means, for the troops; and I am sure that Lord Raglan, Sir John Macneil, Dr. Hall, and other competent gentlemen, will express the same opinion.”

“Monsieur Soyer, I must differ from you, for this is much finer and whiter.”

“It is because it is so white that I object to it. The change from almost black Turkish bread to the very white will create a bad feeling amongst the troops, who will fancy they have been imposed upon. For my taste, give me the whitey-brown; there is less show and more nutriment in it: besides, it is better adapted for the purpose.”

“Well,” said Captain Johnson, “for my own eating, I prefer the white; though I must say the other is very good.”

“Depend upon it, captain, the soldiers want food, not luxuries. I’ll tell you what I will do for you: I am going to head-quarters, and will take the samples to Lord Raglan and Dr. Hall.”

“I shall be much obliged if you will,” said he, “as we want to commence supplying to-morrow.”

On reaching head-quarters, I met Dr. Hall going to the general. I showed him the samples; we convassed their respective merits for a few minutes, and the Doctor was of the same opinion as myself. I saw Lord Raglan in the camp; and he said, “The whitey-brown, by all means. I never wish to have better bread upon my table.”

The good done by this bakery was incalculable. They baked from fifteen to sixteen thousand rations daily, with perfect ease. In justice to the system, I must say, it answered admirably. I carefully watched its progress, and though the quality of the bread often varied, which was entirely owing to the difference in the quality of the flour supplied--and this is unavoidable in so large a supply as is required for an army,--I can certify that the working of the flour in the bruiser, the process of manipulation, and the baking were carefully attended to. In the beginning, it is true, yeast could not be procured in sufficient quantities. At last, they discovered a way of making it themselves. It is due to their exertions to say, that the bakery at Kadikoi was not making as good bread as the Abundance. It is true, they did not possess the same facilities. We had made on board the Abundance several samples of bread-biscuit, which I had the honour of submitting to the Duke of Newcastle during his visit to Scutari. He tasted it both in its dry state, and also soaked in broth, three months after having been baked, and highly approved of it, considering it an excellent invention for the soldier’s camp meal, as well as for the navy.

This is the same bread-biscuit mentioned by a correspondent in the following letter, addressed to the Times.

MISS NIGHTINGALE AND M. SOYER.

To the Editor of the Times.

SIR,--The sympathies of the British nation being at this moment directed to the army of the East, I feel that information as to the hospital department will interest many. Miss Nightingale returned to Scutari on the 4th inst., having left it on the 4th of the preceding month. Miss Nightingale, on her arrival at Balaklava, immediately began an active investigation of the state of the two hospitals there, as well as of the sailors’ hospitals and the field hospitals in the camp, in which she had the invaluable assistance of the Sanitary Commissioners and M. Soyer, as well as the advice and the moral support of Sir John M’Neil and Colonel Tulloch, commissioners, and of Dr. Hall and the medical staff. The affairs of the sisters and nurses were arranged, new huts built, kitchens erected and arranged, and a vigorous action in the whole department begun, with the full assent and aid of the medical officers, when Miss Nightingale was seized with the Crimean fever and carried up to the hut hospital on the Genoese heights.

She became convalescent after about twelve days, and was recommended to take a voyage to England; she, however, though in a state of extreme weakness and exhaustion, refused to entertain the idea of going beyond Scutari, trusting that she might be enabled the sooner to return to her advanced post at Balaklava. Lord Ward, with a generous perseverance in well-doing, forced Miss Nightingale to accept his steam-yacht the London, which was placed at her disposal on the 3rd inst., and in this vessel she happily and rapidly performed the voyage to Scutari. The Hon. W. Wellesley, Dr. Curgewan, Lord Ward’s medical man, Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge, M. Soyer, whose enterprise has been associated with that of Miss Nightingale at Balaklava, besides Mrs. Roberts, chief nurse, and servants, were on board. Miss Nightingale was visited while sick by Lord Raglan at the huts, and again on board the London, and was received on landing at Scutari by Lord W. Paulet, Commandant, Dr. Cumming, Inspector-General, and Dr. Macgregor, Deputy Inspector. The house of the chaplain is placed at her disposal by the Rev. Mr. Sabin, and she has been offered the use of the British Palace at Pera by Lord and Lady Stratford de Redcliffe. Miss Nightingale is extremely weak, but has no remains of fever, and no danger is apprehended.

The sanitarium, in huts on the Genoese heights at Balaklava, is now in full action, and will accommodate about six hundred, at the elevation of seven hundred feet above the sea. The wounded are doing well there, and the kitchen has been perfected by M. Soyer. One of the large huts is used as a chapel, and the whole staff of medical men, purveyors, chaplain, sisters, and nurses (Mrs. Shaw Stewart[16] superintendent), are well chosen and practically zealous. A second sanitarium, on St. George’s Monastery heights, is ready for one hundred and fifty, and rapidly progressing. Good water is found in both situations.

In the General Hospital, above the head of the harbour, with its huts adjacent to the main building, about two hundred and fifty patients (chiefly sick) are attended (two huts being given up for cholera). The medical men are especially active there, the orderlies have been much improved in number and quality by recent regulation, the kitchen and chief cook have been recommended by M. Soyer, and the chief purveyor has shown anxiety to make ample provision of requisites, now happily to be found in abundance; but the situation is not a good one; the heat is great, and the crowds frequenting the purveyor’s stores inconveniently near to the sick wards. The sisters and nurses (Miss Warre superintendent) are actively employed, and inhabit a hut adjacent to the main building.

The ship Abundance, lately arrived, has its bakery at work day and night, turning out excellent bread, which will take the place of the sour and mouldy article often sent from the contractors at Constantinople. M. Soyer has invented a most important kind of bread, which seems to unite the advantage of the loaf and the biscuit, and has found out a method of cooking salt rations which makes them most palatable and entirely removes the salt. His receipts have been highly approved, and will be printed by the authority of head-quarters. The camp kitchens he has invented for field hospitals will soon be in activity, as those of the chief hospitals already are; but his suggestions and their application are of so practical and extensive a nature that they will require a second letter from,

Sir, your obedient servant, C. H. B.

Scutari Barrack-hospital, June 7.

To the Editor of the Times.

SIR,--I shall do myself the pleasure of forwarding you by the next post a résumé of my culinary progress in the Crimea, adding to it the promised receipts, as well as some of those which I have already very successfully introduced into the camps, made out of the rations issued to the troops. I am also happy to inform you, that though so close to Sebastopol, I have not yet met with a single enemy; and were it not for the continual roaring of the cannon, the bursting of shells, and the heat of the sun, I could fancy myself in England’s happy land. But instead of enemies, on the contrary, from head-quarters to every camp and regiment, the officers and medical gentlemen have rendered me the utmost assistance, so ready are they to improve the cooking of the food for their brave companions in arms. The provisions allowed by Government I consider bountiful, and only require to be applied to the best advantage. With the highest consideration,

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

Camp before Sebastopol, June 3.

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XXII. PREPARATIONS FOR ANOTHER TRIP

Preparations for my departure--French, Turkish, and Sardinian camps--Lord Ward--A visit to Mr. Upton--The lost pony--A bright idea--A famous piece of roast-beef--Mrs. Seacole and her daughter--News of the lost pony--A merry group--My beef in danger--A ruse de guerre--Safe at head-quarters--Sir George Brown--Interview with Lord Raglan--Letter in the Illustrated London News--Curious mistake--A night cruise--Explanations--Lord Raglan’s affability--The late Madame Soyer--Lord Alvanley and Ude--Singular birthday anecdote--Pleasant gossip--Ride home--News from Kertch--Visit to the Tchernaya--An invitation--Miss Nightingale on board the Jura--Mishaps--Midnight visitors--The London--A kind offer--Acceptance--Ready to start.

Miss Nightingale was at this period gradually recovering, and the time for her departure drew near. That lady and Mr. Bracebridge had both expressed their wish for me to return to Scutari with them, which I was also very anxious to do. I wanted to give an important coup d’œil at the hospitals there, which were still very full. So I made the most of my remaining time; visited the French, Turkish, and Sardinian camps, and their hospitals, from each of which, I am proud to say, I gleaned some important and useful dietetic information. It was, however, better suited to the camp than to the permanent hospitals. What struck me most in the French and Sardinian treatments, which are based upon a similar system, was this--viz., that too much liquid of a weak nature was administered to the patients, and in too great quantities--especially as the climate had so great a tendency to produce diarrhœa, dysentery, and cholera.

I had remarked during my stay at Scutari, and when the hospital was filled with patients suffering from those diseases, that the succulent mutton and barley broth I had introduced was selected daily from the dietary by the English doctors, in preference to beef-tea, chicken-broth, &c.; as well as the receipts for plain boiled rice, savoury rice, slightly curried rice, rice-pulp, ground rice-pudding, sago-jelly, sago-panada; and for beverages, strong rice-water, barley-water, and arrowroot-water, in preference to lemonade during the first stage of those diseases; and that numbers of these light though nutritious dishes were selected by the doctors when the disease was at its height.

Though I am aware that in different countries men have different constitutions, I also remarked that the Turkish system of diet closely resembled the English, as they used a great deal of rice, flour--stewed, broiled, and boiled meats, &c. &c. In giving this opinion, en passant, it is only with the intention of submitting to the public, if not to the faculty, things which struck me forcibly during my visits to those important establishments, in which everybody has and ever will take a national interest. Nor can I bring these few remarks to a close without returning my grateful thanks to the authorities in these various establishments for their very courteous attention upon all occasions.

We remained about a fortnight longer in the Crimea, which time I spent in attending to my duties both in the camp and in the hospitals. One morning I had the pleasure of being introduced to Lord Ward, who was very anxious to see Miss Nightingale, as he had a number of letters as well as parcels for that lady. On my informing his lordship that Miss Nightingale was ill, and would not be able to see any one for some time, I believe he forwarded them to her. As I was very desirous of seeing his vessel, he very kindly invited me to visit him on board; and we parted--I to meet Mr. Bracebridge, and to accompany him on our long-promised visit to Mr. Upton; and Lord Ward, to pay his first visit to head-quarters and the camp.

In a short time we arrived at Mr. Upton’s house, and were very kindly received. Mr. Upton is a very short, fair man, still young, and very pale. His daughters are two of the prettiest little girls I ever saw, aged respectively nine and eleven years. He seemed to have suffered much from his confinement, but spoke highly of the treatment he had received from the English while in captivity. His goods were exposed on view, and the sale was to take place a few days after. Having been set at liberty, he was about to return to his native place, near Atherstone in Warwickshire. Everything connected with that gentleman and his family, as well as what relates to his late father, is too well known to require to be repeated.

Six days had elapsed, and I had received no news of the lost pony. The endeavours to find his saddle were also fruitless; and the pony was quite a secondary consideration. This put me in mind of a most extraordinary case of absence of mind in a man who had been gambling, and unexpectedly found himself in great distress, having nothing left but his horse, which was starving for want of provender. On a sudden, a bright idea flashed across his mind. In order to save it, he went and sold the horse to buy some hay. Had the Doctor found the saddle, it was ten to one against his being able to purchase another pony, they were so scarce at the time.

On the seventh day, I happened to be riding triumphantly through the camp with my tall guardsman Thomas before me. He was carrying a fine piece of roast-beef--or at least beef for roasting--which I had begged of the captain of a vessel who came from Alexandria, and intended for Lord Raglan. But I must here observe that it would have been dangerous to cross the camp with such a precious treasure unguarded, as some of those marauding Jack Sheppards of Zouaves would have thought nothing of taking possession of it. They always went in strong bodies, and were ever on the look-out for prey. I said to myself, “If, in the middle of the road, and under my own eyes, they will steal a horse, nothing is more certain than they will try to borrow this”--the word “steal” was not allowed to be mentioned in the French camp, the word “borrow” sounding more genteel.

The loss of the beef, added to the rumoured loss of the four horses, would indeed have afforded abundant materials for fun; so I sent my avant-guard by the road on foot, instead of across country, and followed him on horseback. This plan gave me an opportunity of seeing Mrs. Seacole, to thank her for her kind exertions, although the missing pony had not been found. On reaching her place, I found several mounted officers taking refreshment; when Miss Sally Seacole (her daughter), whose name I have not yet introduced, called out--“Mother, mother! here is Monsieur Soyer!” This announcement brought her out immediately, and she exclaimed, “Good luck to you, my son! we have found your pony: come down. Here are some officers who say they have had a grey pony like yours in the stables of their regiment these last few days. Didn’t you say so, gentlemen?”

“Yes, Monsieur Soyer!” said one, “but you must look sharp, for they are going to sell it to-morrow, if no one claims it.”

“Many thanks for the warning. I will ride over directly. Pray, what is the number of the regiment?”

“The 93rd--fourth division--near the Woronzoff-road. I am almost sure it is yours.”

“Well, my son,” said Mrs. Seacole, “didn’t I tell you that it would be found?”

“Really, Mrs. Seacole, I don’t know what I shall give you for the trouble you have taken in this affair. At all events, here is something on account,”--saluting her upon her deeply-shaded forehead, at which every one present laughed and joked.

“Gentlemen,” said I, “I knew you would be surprised; though it is very natural for a son to kiss his mother. At any rate, you cannot say that, upon this occasion, I have shown my love and taste for the fair sex.” A hearty laugh concluded this innocent bit of fun.

My guardsman, Thomas, who had continued his journey, had by this time nearly reached his destination. After a sharp gallop I caught him, and just in time to rescue the piece of beef he had carried safely so far. I found him drinking brandy with several of the French Imperial Guard, at their canteen; and he was exhibiting the choice piece, which I had wrapped up so carefully in a cloth and packed in a basket. It was the admiration of all who formed the merry group. They said to him, “Anglais roast-beef--bono Johnny.” This was all their conversation upon the subject previous to its capture, which I have no doubt would have been the case had I not made my appearance. Seeing the imminent danger in which the choice morsel was placed, and aware that nothing but a ruse de guerre could rescue it from the hands of the enemy--

“Thomas,” said I, in French, “how dare you stop drinking in this way, when you know that General Canrobert must have that beef roasted for his dinner; and it is already past three o’clock. (“By Jupiter!” said one of them, “it’s no go--it’s for the Commander-in-Chief.”) Go along with you! (He began to inquire what I said.) Don’t answer me, sir, or you shall have a night in the guard-house. Pray, my fine fellow, which is the nearest way to the French head-quarters? I had better carry it myself--I shall be there first. Give it me,” said I, taking the basket, and ordering Thomas to follow.

Bidding the astonished soldiers adieu, I galloped off with my prize. Upon arriving at head-quarters, I rated Thomas for his stupidity, and went to the kitchen to ask for a large dish to put the beef on. It quite astonished Monsieur Armand, as he had seen none of that quality before. Indeed, it contrasted strangely with some beef he had upon the table.

“You are more comfortable now,” I said, “since those few additions have been made to your kitchen?”

“Very much so; and I am extremely obliged to you for what you have done.”

“You have a very good roasting fireplace. Will you be kind enough to have that piece of beef roasted to a turn for Lord Raglan’s dinner to-morrow, as it is Sunday?”

“Yes,” said he; “it comes quite à propos; and I will roast it as well as I can, but must suspend it by a cord, as I have no spit.”

“Do so--that will be more camp fashion; but pray don’t bake it, for that would spoil it, and you don’t know the trouble I had to get it as far as this in safety.”

I then told him about Thomas and the French soldiers, at which he could not help laughing, saying, “It has had a narrow escape, for those devils of Zouaves will steal the coat from your back. A few days ago they stole a whole sheep from that bit of a larder I have here in the yard.”

“You had better give it to the steward to keep in his pantry till to-morrow--it will then be safe.”

“I will do so.”

As Thomas was carrying it into the house, we met several officers, who inquired whence it came. I went and showed it to Colonel Steele, begging that he would be kind enough to offer it to Lord Raglan, with my respects. While I was in Colonel Steele’s room, in walked Sir George Brown and his aide-de-camp.

“Bravo,” said the latter, looking at it; “you have indeed improved the ration meat, if this is a specimen.”

“It is,” I replied; “but I am sorry to add that it is both specimen and stock.”

“It is certain,” said the general, “I have seen no such meat since I left England. Where does it come from?”

“Alexandria, general.”

“Oh, that’s a long way to bring it in large quantities.”

“Truly, general; but this is only an out-of-the-way piece. I think we may shortly have plenty, and at a moderate price, and from a nearer place. No time is lost; but, as the proverb says, ‘the world was not created in a day.’”

At this moment Lord Raglan came in, quite by chance. “Hallo, Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “what have you got there?”

“A piece of ration beef, my lord, with a certain addition of fat; and I beg your acceptance of it for to-morrow’s dinner. I have seen Armand about it, and he has promised to do it to a turn.”

“That’s very kind of you,” said his lordship, giving his orders to the colonel, and inquiring, at the same time, about a very important telegraphic despatch.

“But I must again tell you, as I mentioned once before, you will not find my cook a first-rate cordon bleu.”

“Well, my lord, no doubt he does his best, according to the quality of the provisions, which, your lordship must be aware, are not first-rate. At all events, I shall trust this marvel to his skill; and if he does it to a turn, as he has promised, he will prove the correctness of my countryman’s words--Brillat Savarin--who says, in his Physiologie du Goût, ‘On devient cuisinier, mais on est nait rôtisseur.’”

“That is a charming work of Savarin’s,” said his lordship. “Well, Soyer,” continued he, “this certainly looks like English beef. Where does it come from?”

“From Alexandria, my lord. I dined the other day on board the Etna, and we had a splendid piece of roast beef for dinner. I at once claimed a portion for your lordship’s table; and the captain ordered the best piece to be put by--and here it is.”

“Very kind of him, very kind--and of you too, Monsieur Soyer.” As Lord Raglan said this, he turned and gave his orders to Colonel Steele.

“Have you found your pony?”

“I believe so. I hear it is in the stables of the 93rd Regiment, and I am going to look for it directly.”

“You are lucky,” said he; “for some fellows have actually stolen thirty live sheep and several mules from here.”

“Have they indeed?”

“Yes, I assure you it is too true. Is it not, Steele?”

“So I was told.”

“Oh, I hear Miss Nightingale is soon going back.”

“Yes, as soon as she is sufficiently strong to bear the voyage.”

Lord Raglan then left the room. Never was there a man at all times more composed and collected than he was; and he always had a kind word and smile for those around him, even at the most critical times.

Several days had by this time elapsed since the departure of the expedition for Kertch, and no news of its movements had been received. The harbour looked very dull. Not knowing how to spend my evening, I went with a friend to Kadikoi, and dined there. Whilst at table, an officer who knew me, and who was reading the last number of the Illustrated London News, addressed me with a “Hallo, Monsieur Soyer, they have got you in the Illustrated this week.”

“Have they?” said I. “Oh, I see--it is the last letter I sent from Scutari.”

“Yes, it is,” he replied.

“About the opening of my kitchen? Yes, and here is the sketch. I did not notice that before.”

He then passed the paper to me. On perusing the letter, I perceived that the printer had made a slight mistake, and one of vital importance to me, as it operated to the detriment of the purveyor-in-chief at Scutari, as well as to the authorities. The blunder was as follows. In one passage of my letter I made special remarks upon the inferior quality of the provisions to be obtained at Constantinople. They had inserted the inferior quality of provisions purchased at Constantinople. I hardly knew how to rectify such a serious mistake, so I at once resolved to go and explain the matter to Lord Raglan, before he could hear from any other quarter, of what he might suppose to be my ill-feeling towards a party from whom I had previously informed his lordship I had received the greatest assistance and kindness. I immediately returned to the Baraguay d’Hilliers, and found Peter Morrison on board. I showed him the paper; and he at once approved of my resolve, and offered to accompany me to head-quarters.

Though rather late--it was dusk--I borrowed a pony from the Commandant and a mule from Colonel Dennis. By way of a change I rode the mule, and off we went in true campaigning style. We were overtaken by night before we could reach head-quarters. It was at all times imprudent to be out after dark, as violence and robbery were of daily occurrence. At length, after a détour of about a mile, we saw the gleam of several lights, and riding towards them, found ourselves safe at head-quarters, having fortunately hit upon the place. The party were at dinner. After waiting a short time, the steward came and told me that dinner was over, and the gentlemen were taking their wine. I then begged him to inform Colonel Steele of my arrival, and say I should feel obliged if he would step into his room for a few minutes, as I had something important to communicate. Upon receiving my message, Colonel Steele immediately came out.

“Good evening, colonel. Very sorry to disturb you.”

“Never mind that, Monsieur Soyer. But what brings you here so late at night? Are you staying here?”

“No, my dear colonel; I am still at Balaklava, but on the Baraguay d’Hilliers instead of the London.”

“Indeed. Well, she’s a much better vessel. But what can I do for you?”

“I will tell you. I am much annoyed at a mistake which has occurred in the printing of a letter of mine which has appeared in this number of the Illustrated London News. There are only two words misplaced, but they entirely alter my meaning. Pray read those few lines, colonel,” I continued, giving him the paper, and pointing them out; the letter being to the following effect:--

That in the description they gave of the opening of my kitchen at Scutari, in the number of the 14th inst., an error crept in, occasioned by the omission of a word, which entirely alters my sentiment, and if not contradicted would reflect much discredit upon the authorities at Scutari, [and thereby inflict a serious injustice. The sentence to which I referred appears in the paper thus--] “That I prepared my bill of fare according to the provisions allowed, which are at all times of an inferior quality;” whilst the passage should run as follows:--“That I prepared my bill of fare according to the provisions allowed, which at all times are of an inferior quality at CONSTANTINOPLE in comparison to English provisions.”

“I suppose you meant to say, the provisions to be obtained.”

“Exactly, colonel.”

“What do you wish me to do?”

“Merely to be kind enough to explain the error to Lord Raglan to-morrow, as it would appear very ungrateful on my part to the authorities at Scutari; more especially as I informed his lordship that those gentlemen had done everything in their power to assist me.”

“I had better do it at once. His lordship has just done dinner. I will go and show it to him; you can walk in with me.”

“No, I thank you; I had rather wait here.”

In a few minutes he returned with the paper, saying, “I have shown it to Lord Raglan, and he will make a note of it.”

He had scarcely uttered the words, when I heard his lordship inquiring in the corridor, “Where is Monsieur Soyer? where is he?” and in he walked, followed by his Staff, seven or eight in number, among whom was Dr. Pennefather. The Commander-in-chief was dressed in plain clothes, and looked very well, full of health and vigour. His fine open countenance, so characteristic of the man, was more brilliant than ever, and his conversation quite jocular. After alluding to the step I had just taken, and which, he observed, was very thoughtful on my part, he promised to have the parties informed of the mistake, and of my explanation.

“Monsieur Soyer,” (Lord Raglan, as he said this, was standing in the doorway, leaning on his right shoulder, with his legs crossed, and surrounded by several gentlemen, forming a group which I shall not forget as long as I live,) “you must have known my old friend Ude?”

“I did, my lord.”

“How many years were you at the Reform Club?”

“Above twelve. It was old Mr. Ude who gave the late Madame Soyer away when we were married; so we often visited him.”

“Lord Alvanley, who had apartments at Mr. Ude’s, lived there for years, and I frequently visited him,” said Lord Raglan.

“If so, no doubt your lordship will recollect a very interesting picture of a country girl going to market, with a basket of poultry under her arm?”

“I do, very well indeed, and I know it was painted by your wife. It was very cleverly done. But you had all her best pictures at the Reform Club. You showed them to me yourself.”

“I recollect doing so perfectly well.”

“She was a very talented woman indeed!” observed several of the gentlemen present, who had seen her pictures.

“She was an Englishwoman, was she not, Monsieur Soyer?” said his lordship.

“Yes, my lord; her maiden name was Emma Jones.”

“Of course,” rejoined one of the group, “her paintings were well known by that name.”

“So they were, captain, and fetched high prices too. I do not sell any now; on the contrary, I still have my gallery complete, and have bought in several since her death. I offered old Ude fifty guineas for the painting in his possession called ‘La Jeune Fermière;’ but he would not part with it, as it was presented to him by her. Previous to my departure from England for the East, I was advised by the chaplain of the cemetery to insert on the monument the country of her birth, as many believed her to be a foreigner. The inscription was simply ‘TO HER.’ I then composed the following laconic epitaph:--

‘TO THE MEMORY OF MADAME SOYER. England gave her birth, Genius immortality.’”

“Very good indeed,” said his lordship. “I myself have seen the monument, which is considered one of the finest in Kensal-green Cemetery.

“I was saying, Soyer, that I frequently visited Alvanley; and we always knew when Ude and his wife were at home, for they never ceased quarrelling. They kept five or six dogs, and what with their barking and the quarrelling of master and mistress, I never heard such a noise in my life. I often wondered how Lord Alvanley could put up with it; but he said he was used to it, and could hardly feel comfortable anywhere else.”

“Talk of quarrelling, I believe they could not exist without it--not even on birthdays; and if you will allow me, I will relate a singular birthday anecdote.”

“Pray do, Soyer.”

“You must know that the old gentleman, though very avaricious, now and then came out in first-rate style with his gastronomic parties; but the great day of all was the 15th of August in each year--being the fête and birthday of the illustrious and far-famed Louis Eustache Ude. Upon these occasions, about four-and-twenty of his most devoted and illustrious disciples were invited, with their wives, to a most sumptuous dinner at his house. The grandeur of the gold and silver ornaments was actually cast into the shade by the elegance and succulence of the mets they contained. The choicest articles in season--viz., fish, flesh, poultry, vegetables, and fruit--seemed to have been waiting to come to perfection for this high-priest of the gastronomic art, and many culinary inventions which still delight the scientific palates of the epicures of the day had their origin at that Lucullusian anniversary.

“Upon one of these great occasions, Madame Soyer and myself were invited. As it was the first to which I had been invited, I was very anxious to go. About a week previous, so strong was my wish to be present at this feast, I asked the committee to grant me leave of absence from duty for one evening, and they kindly acceded to my request. To the minute, heure militaire, we were there, and were saluted upon our arrival by the usual dogmatic chorus, which for a few minutes prevented our hearing a word that was spoken. At length we were all seated, Mr. Ude at the top of the table, and Mrs. Ude facing him.

“It was, I must repeat, a most superb and elegantly laid-out board. The best part of the dessert, which is always refreshing to the sight, ‘particularly in the middle of August,’ had been made a perfect study. Soup was duly served, and highly praised by the culinary convives and judges. It was a bisque d’écrevisses. The Madeira was circulating cheerfully round the table, to the trinquing of glasses, after the old French fashion, when an unfortunate guest, having probably too far to reach a beloved friend, put his foot forward, and unfortunately deposited it upon the paw of one of the enfans chéris de la maison. Vermilion--that was the name of the plaintiff--being an enfant gâté, seized upon the leg, which happened to be bootless, as the unlucky guest wore thin shoes. The dog made a slight indenture with his teeth, causing him involuntarily to reply to the attack of Vermilion; three or four more of the four-legged tribe joined the battle-cry, and the noise was intolerable. The compliments which passed between the host and hostess were pithy and violent, though scarcely heard through the din, excepting by those who happened to be seated close to them. We were fortunately about the centre of the table, and all we could catch was--

“‘Oh, you stupid old man! why did you not lock the dogs upstairs, as I told you to do?’

“‘Be quiet, madam!’ replied Mr. Ude. ‘This is my birthday, and I will have no quarrelling.’

“‘No more will I; but why did you not lock up your dogs?’

“‘Well, madam, I am sure they were quiet enough till that stupid young man trod upon poor Vermilion’s paw.’

“‘Stupid young man, did you say? Mr. Ude, pray how dare you insult my relation? If any one is stupid here, it is you, Mr. Ude!’

“‘Will you be quiet, madam?’--‘No, I shall not!’

“‘What, not on my birthday! There, take that.’

“As he said this, he threw some almonds across the table, and his wife replied with some projectiles snatched up at random from other portions of the dessert. The dogs joined in the fray, and entirely upset the party. All the ladies left the table. The young man who had been bitten attempted to apologize; in return for which concession on his part, the great Louis Eustache and his amiable spouse returned a volley of abuse. An hour elapsed before anything like order could be established, when several ladies returned to the table, while a few remained to console the victimized spouse. The great Mr. Ude had bravely retained his important position, and, still violently excited, commenced helping the fish--a magnificent crimped Gloucester salmon, procured at Groves’s in Bond-street--which was by this time as cold as ice.

“‘Only fancy,’ ejaculated the enraged Amphitryon, ‘even on my birthday! Upon my word, she is a wretch! She never will--‘ Then, by way of parenthesis, to the waiter, ‘Go round with the sauce, you stupid! don’t stand there staring like a fool.’--‘Prosper! no, I’m sure she never, never will prosper!’

“At length something like harmony was restored; but only six ladies out of eleven returned; the others remained with Mrs. Ude, and, I believe, dined upstairs. Much to our sorrow and disappointment, one of the finest dinners of the season was served up cold, and entirely spoiled, through the pugnacity of Louis Eustache Ude’s favourite pup.”

All laughed heartily at the anecdote, particularly Lord Raglan, who then told us that Ude had called upon him several mornings respecting a cook he had applied for to Mr. Ude, for his brother, the Duke.

“Ude,” said Lord Raglan, “called several mornings, first with two dogs, then three, next four. At last I said to him, ‘I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Ude, for your kind visits respecting my brother’s cook, and shall be happy to see you at any time--but in future without your four-legged companions.’

“‘Why?’ asked the great chef, rather put out.

“‘My dear sir, if you want an explanation, inquire of the housemaid!’ He rushed out, and never called again; but he sent the cook all the same. Ude was an excellent manager, and a good cook, but had a very odd temper; he died very rich.”

“Very rich indeed.”

“To whom did he leave his fortune?”

“Oh, to his favourite pet, Madame Ude. She is still alive, and lives in the same house in Albemarle-street.”

“Really, I did not know that!”

“My lord, and gentlemen, I wish you good evening, and thank you for your kindness.”

“You must take some refreshment, Soyer, before you go. Order what you want. Steward, wait upon Monsieur Soyer.”

They then all went out, and sat upon the door-steps, smoking their cigars. Lord Raglan was that night in a very jovial mood: Colonel Steele observed to me, “Did you ever know or see a finer man for his age? Is he not still full of life and vigour, and the picture of an English nobleman?”

“He is, indeed; and I always notice that he has plenty of fun and jokes.”

“That is true; but more so with you, as you are not a military man. He is very strict on duty.”

As I was taking some refreshment, Lord Raglan came to me, and said, “Monsieur Soyer, I wish you would give my cook, Armand, the receipt to make that excellent French pot-au-feu you gave me when I saw you at the Reform Club.”

“I will; and those vegetables-chollet I have submitted to your lordship will be the very thing for it. They are made of common vegetables, exactly suitable for that soup. It is by far the best, most wholesome, and nutritious for the troops.”

“I am confident of that,” said his lordship, going back to his seat.

I then went out through the side door to fetch my mule, which P. Morrison had been walking about the courtyard along with his pony. Jumping upon it, I rode up to the group, to say good-night to Lord Raglan and all present.

“Hallo,” Lord Raglan exclaimed, “where is the charger you had the other day? What is that you are mounted upon?”

“A mule, my lord, belonging to Colonel Dennis of the Dragoons.”

“Ah, you are much safer upon that.”

“I feel so, I assure you, my lord. The charger to which you allude belonged to Colonel Hardinge.”

“So I heard.”

“It was a good joke on the part of the Commandant. I asked him to do me the favour of lending me his light pony, and he sent me his large charger, which ran away with me, but fortunately not towards Sebastopol.” At this they all laughed heartily; and I and P. Morrison departed.

When we were about half a mile from head-quarters, we heard a sharp fusillade in the direction of Sebastopol, and there was a lull in the cannonade and shelling, which had not ceased during my stay at head-quarters. We proceeded to the Turkish camp, situated on the heights to the right, from whence we could plainly see the firing. The Turkish soldiers were in high glee, singing, dancing, smoking, drinking coffee, and playing no end of Oriental instruments, which, however well tuned, were by no means in harmony. They were bivouacked all over the camp; some of the officers who were smoking offered us chibouques and coffee, which we declined, as it was then so late. We left, thanking them for their civility.

As we rode along, I could not help remarking to P. Morrison the extraordinary contrast of the two scenes, witnessed nearly on the same spot and within a short interval--the present one all fun and glee, the other a scene of death and carnage, where hundreds of human beings were being launched into eternity. Such are the chances and the variation of war. It was after twelve when we arrived at Balaklava, and were safe on board. My heroic companion related the terrible fright he had been in all the way back, having seen most dreadful things, in the shape of ghosts, brigands, and murderers. It is true that on one occasion we were arrested; but it was by a wide ditch, which we could not easily jump over without risking a bath with the frogs, it being one of the resorts of those aquatic quadrupeds. We had lost our way, the road being invisible, and no landmarks, as the camps were being daily changed from one spot to another. These were the tribulations caused by the printer or my illustrious secretary. The next morning the captain of the vessel came to my cabin, and informed me that Kertch and other places in the Sea of Azoff were taken.

The news of such a victory was most welcome, and the harbour was gaily decorated with hundreds of coloured flags of the Allied nations. Everything seemed to revive, and all felt anxious to visit the newly-conquered land of Kamara, which had been taken a few days before. In company with a few others, I started at four A.M. to visit these champs fleuris. Nothing could be more refreshing than the sight of that gorgeous harvest, which seemed to have suddenly sprung up amidst deserted and arid rocks, sand, and gravel, where all had before been condemned to exile. Nothing in my whole existence appeared more grateful and refreshing to the mind, as well as the eye, than the odour from those perfumed valleys of myriads of wild flowers, shaded from the burning heat of the sun by a tall verandah of long green grass, the top of which softly caressed the chests of our horses as they trotted through these thickly-populated floral prairies. Myriads of étoiles des champs, daisies, buttercups, bluebells, cornflowers, poppies, birdseyes, &c., and many others unknown in this country, were seen on every side. Clouds of butterflies were seen gaily sporting from flower to flower, taking from each a kiss perfumed by the zephyr of the morn. Even our horses seemed to enjoy the scene so fully, that we let them graze for about an hour. We then arrived near the charming rivulet and valley, the Tchernaya, which, though far from being as beautiful as many in France or England, possesses numerous charms to an uninitiated eye.

We mounted our horses, and went through the Kamara Mountains, the scenery of which resembles that of Devonshire, Wales, or the Highlands of Scotland. We returned home by the edge of the beautiful cliffs which border the Bay of Balaklava. Such a day is not to be easily forgotten, rendered still more agreeable by the cordial reception we met with from the officers in the French and Sardinian camps, and the presence of a most charming compagnon de voyage (Mr. Stowe), a very promising young man in high literature. The various notes he took on the spot are worthy of Thomson’s Seasons.

I heard from Mr. Bracebridge that Miss Nightingale was greatly improving, of which I was of course well aware, as I went every day to the Sanatorium to prepare a few light things for her lunch or dinner. He also informed me that her intention was to leave Balaklava shortly for Scutari; to which I replied, that having done all I could in the camp for the present, I was quite ready to go. As I had also heard that my field-stoves had arrived, and had been landed by mistake at that place, I decided upon going to fetch them myself. Mr. Bracebridge having found some round stoves which were sent out for winter use, proposed having the tops cut off and some pans introduced, which would make them similar to mine (as he thought). “At all events,” said he, “I shall make a trial, and show it at head-quarters.”

I very reluctantly consented to this. It took five or six days to make a strong tin pan, which, when done and fixed in the stove, we took to head-quarters, and showed to Lord Raglan and a number of generals present. I made some coffee in it (that being the quickest thing), which was approved of. But having brought my small model stove with me, I pointed out to Lord Raglan that each pan would cost thirty shillings, and the stoves would not be worth five shillings soon afterwards, as they would be burnt through, thus proving the superiority of my plan. Lord Raglan advised me to wait till my own arrived. Mr. Bracebridge and myself afterwards went to the General Hospital, and there saw Dr. Mouatt, who had not succeeded in getting the bricks for the kitchen oven.

Having completed our camp rounds, Mr. Bracebridge said he was compelled to leave me, upon some private business. I afterwards learnt that he went to the trenches, and, being both very imprudent and curious, was as nearly as possible taken prisoner or shot. He had appointed to meet me by five o’clock at head-quarters, but did not come. I paid Dr. Hall and a few friends round head-quarters a short visit, as I feared I might not have another opportunity previous to my departure from the Crimea. It was quite dark when I got back. Mr. Bracebridge had not returned, and we were beginning to fear that something had happened to him. The next morning he was on board early, and active as ever, recounting his adventures. I that morning went on board Lord Ward’s yacht, but its owner was on shore--so I left word that I would call again. The next day I had the honour of receiving the following invitation from Lord Ward, to go on an excursion in his yacht as far as Lukas, the palace of Prince Woronzoff.

Steam-ship “London,” Balaklava Harbour, Wednesday.

SIR,--You were kind enough to promise to visit me on board my ship, the London. To-morrow we propose visiting Yalta and Aloupka, calling on the way at the pretty country-seat belonging to Prince Woronzoff. If not engaged, will you go with us? You will perhaps at the same time be kind enough to give a few hints to my cook in the mysteries of the art of which you are so great a master.

I have the honour to remain, yours, WARD.

About eighty persons were invited, and it was with regret that I was obliged to decline; but a day was indeed a day to me.

Miss Nightingale got better and stronger every day, and she seemed inclined to remain in the Crimea, observing that, owing to her illness, she had not done half she had intended to do. Every one, and especially the doctors, tried to persuade her that the change of air would do her an immense deal of good.

It was at last settled that a berth in the first convenient ship leaving the harbour for Scutari should be placed at Miss Nightingale’s disposal. The Jura was fixed upon, as she was then hourly expected, and had only to discharge cargo and return immediately. She had four hundred horses on board, and several hundred troops. The day before her departure Miss Nightingale was brought from the Sanatorium upon a stretcher, carried by eight soldiers, and accompanied by Dr. Hadley, the Reverend Mr. Parker, Mr. Bracebridge, myself, and several Sisters of Charity. When we reached the Jura, tackles were attached to the four corners of the stretcher, and Miss Nightingale was slung on deck by means of pulleys. We found a very disagreeable smell, caused by the great number of horses, which had only been landed that morning. Miss Nightingale was carefully carried to the chief cabin, a very comfortable one; yet even there the smell was very offensive. This I mentioned to the captain, who agreed with me, but said, “We shall no sooner get to sea than it will disappear.”

The invalid was therefore made as comfortable as possible, and the doctors and every one left. No sooner were they gone than Miss Nightingale fainted. I and the boy Thomas ran in every direction for a doctor. Dr. Hadley, who had just arrived at his residence on the Genoese Heights, came at once, and immediately ordered her to be removed to another vessel. Not being able to find either Captain Heath or Admiral Boxer, I thought of the Baraguay d’Hilliers, to which Miss Nightingale was at once safely removed, and where I hoped she would be very comfortable till we could get an order from the admiral for another ship. The same evening Admiral Boxer came on board to say that he would at once look out for one. The next afternoon Mr. Bracebridge and myself went to head-quarters, to apprise Lord Raglan of the cause of Miss Nightingale’s non-departure. His lordship was out, and Mr. Bracebridge left a message to the effect that he hoped Lord Raglan would not trouble himself about the matter, as Admiral Boxer would attend to it, and that Miss Nightingale was quite comfortable on board the Baraguay d’Hilliers. We then made a few farewell calls at the First and Third Divisions, and also at the Guards’ camp, near Balaklava.

It was nearly midnight when we were shouting, pianoly, “Baraguay d’Hilliers ahoy!” No reply was made to either the first or second hail, so I raised the dismal melody a few notes higher, which at last brought, to our astonishment, a beautiful boat manned by six smart oarsmen. The craft was handsomely painted, having a small red and white burgee at the stern. At first I thought it was an optical delusion, or a fairy scene raised by the magic power of Ondine, the queen of the waters. In less than two minutes they neared the shore, and one of the fairies addressed us thus: “Pray, are you the gentlemen who are accompanying Miss Nightingale?”

“We are,” said I.

“I and my men have been waiting for you, sir, these three hours.”

“How is that?” asked Mr. Bracebridge.

“I cannot tell you further, than that we were sent to fetch Miss Nightingale, and referred to you. I believe you are Mr. Bracebridge?”

“Yes; and I am at a loss to understand what you mean.”

“I’ve brought a letter from our master, Lord Ward, which will explain all.”

“Where is it?”

“I have delivered it on board; but the last orders from his lordship were, that if I had to wait all night, I was to bring you to him.”

“Why? Don’t you know?”

“Not exactly. But I am sure his lordship is still waiting for you; so you had better come as far as the London--it won’t take you ten minutes.”

We then jumped in. Mr. Bracebridge said, “I tell you how it is: no doubt Lord Ward has heard of what has happened, and probably intends to offer to take Miss Nightingale in his yacht to Scutari.”

“Very likely; but it would not do to accept the invitation without first obtaining the permission of Admiral Boxer.”

“We shall see, Mr. Bracebridge. Perhaps Lord Ward will lend it to the invalid; for he has only just arrived, and it is doing nothing.”

On getting on board the New London, we found that Lord Ward, tired of waiting, had retired to rest, having left special orders to be called the instant we arrived, no matter at what hour. As it was nearly one o’clock, we made all kinds of objections to his being disturbed, but in vain. The lamps were lit in the saloon, and we were invited to walk in. We found Lord Ward en robe-de-chambre, quite ready to receive us.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” said he.

We were about to apologize for being so late, when Lord Ward proceeded to say that he had heard of the non-departure of Miss Nightingale, and the cause, and that if she would accept his yacht, he should be happy to place it at her disposal to convey her to Scutari. He added, that she might take her own time, as he intended to remain a fortnight in the Crimea, and that no one should be on board excepting those whom she chose to take with her, and his medical attendant.

Mr. Bracebridge thanked Lord Ward in his own and Miss Nightingale’s name, and said that he would inform the lady of his lordship’s kind offer in the morning, and communicate her decision. We then left, thus terminating a most unexpected midnight conversation, on the 7th of June, 1855. Nothing was heard in the now peaceable harbour but the splashing of the oars of our fashionable oarsmen, who seemed at every pull to be smashing the Koh-i-noor diamond into hundreds of pieces while disturbing the transparent liquid. The flashes from the guns at Sebastopol were distinctly seen reflected, but not a sound was heard save our good-night to the fairy rowers, as we ascended the rope ladder of the bulky Baraguay d’Hilliers.

The following morning Mr. Bracebridge consulted with Miss Nightingale. The lady expressed her thanks for Lord Ward’s kind offer, but at the same time justly observed that the matter was in the hands of the admiral, as he might by this time have arranged with another vessel. Inquiries having been made, the admiral recommended Miss Nightingale to accept Lord Ward’s offer, remarking the advantage of having the vessel to herself, while it would be morally impossible for him to give her a passage with the same facilities. It was then decided that the offer should be accepted. Lord Ward soon after called for an answer, and was highly gratified by that lady’s acceptance. He returned on board his vessel, to have every preparation made for her reception. Miss Nightingale was to go on board at four in the afternoon, and sail at eight or nine the next morning. Mr. Bracebridge, Lord Ward’s medical attendant, the Honourable Mr. Wellesley, and myself, were the only persons to accompany her. For the last time I went my hospital and camp rounds; and in the latter part of that day I thought of going once more to head-quarters, to acquaint Colonel Steele of the final arrangements for our departure. I met the Rev. Mr. Wright, the clergyman, in front of the General’s house, and asked him where Omer Pacha’s tent was situated, being anxious to leave my card with his excellency before leaving. Mr. Wright kindly pointed out the spot. As I was entering the house, I met Lord Raglan coming out.

“Oh, here you are, Monsieur Soyer! I heard you were gone, or going, with Miss Nightingale. When do you start?”

“Early to-morrow, in Lord Ward’s yacht.”

“So I hear. I am very glad of it. She will be much more comfortable.”

“Doubtless, my lord.”

“Let me see (looking at his watch); where are you going?”

“Back to Balaklava direct, my lord, having only to make a call for a minute in the Turkish camp.”

“If I thought I should not be too late, I would go with you, to say farewell to her.”

“Pray don’t give yourself so much trouble. It is getting very late, and must be near your dinner-time. I will inform Miss Nightingale of your kind intentions--that will be quite sufficient.”

“Wait a few minutes.”--“I will.”

It was getting dusk, and having waited nearly twenty minutes, I made inquiries as to whether it was likely that Lord Raglan was going to Balaklava.

“No,” was the answer from one of the Staff, “for he is very busily engaged.”

I started for the Turkish camp. On my arrival there, I found that Omer Pacha was dining out; so I left my card and respectful compliments, and took the road through the artillery camp. This gave me an opportunity of visiting Colonel St. George, who resided near the small village of Carrara, about two miles from Balaklava. The kind reception I met with from the Colonel, whom I had not seen since I left Scutari, caused some little delay, and I did not get on board till nearly nine o’clock. To my surprise, I learned that Lord Raglan had just left the London, after paying a farewell visit to Miss Nightingale. This I could hardly believe to be true--the space of time was so short. I much regretted not having waited longer, though certain that his lordship could not be offended, as I had left a message with the man on duty in the entrance hall to the effect that I was informed that he was not coming.

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XXIII. OUR STEAM VOYAGE IN THE “LONDON.”

Orders to start--An accident in port--Farewells--Colonel Dennis’s good luck--Admiral Boxer’s kindness--En route at last--Crimean Zouave flies--At sea--New scene of enchantment--A good dinner--Rough usage--A fog in the Black Sea--Out of our course--Fittings of the London--Enter the Bosphorus--Conversation with Miss Nightingale.

We slept that night on board the Baraguay d’Hilliers, though all our baggage had been removed to the London, and at seven next morning we went on board. Miss Nightingale had passed a most excellent night, and the weather was very fine. Lord Ward, who had slept at the Commandant’s, came on board at half-past seven. After inquiring of Mrs. Roberts, the nurse, whether Miss Nightingale had been comfortable, he gave the captain orders for departure, which he had fixed for twelve o’clock, instead of nine. As the weather was so fine, he proposed that a sofa-bed should be placed upon deck, and that the captain should take us as far as the Bay of Sebastopol, where we might have a fine view of the besieged city, without incurring the slightest danger.

One of the mates told the captain that a vessel full of powder had taken fire in the night, and that Admiral Boxer had been there since two in the morning, working like a negro with the men, and therefore that he could not see him. I believe Lord Ward knew this, but did not speak of it for fear of causing alarm, and this was no doubt the cause of the delay in our departure. The deck was crowded the whole morning with visitors, particularly officials, who wished to pay their respects to Miss Nightingale; but the doctors had given positive orders for her to see no one. Balaklava was in a great state of excitement, on account of the fire on board the powder-ship. Some called it the Gunpowder-plot at Balaklava, and an attempt to destroy the British fleet. This was the opinion in the French camp and at Kamiesch. The fleet, by-the-bye, was at that time at least twenty miles from the supposed scene of explosion.

As there were several matters which I wished to settle before my departure, I asked the captain whether I could land for an hour.

“Certainly you can. I don’t think we shall sail before three o’clock; but be on board by twelve, if possible, or half past at the latest.”

“I shall be sure to return in time.”

I called at the Commissariat respecting the preserved vegetables, the samples of which were daily expected; next, upon Mr. Fitzgerald, the purveyor; and then went to the Abundance. On my way to the steamer, I met Mr. Bracebridge going to Colonel Dennis; and although I had already had the pleasure of saying good-bye to the colonel and his lady, I went back with him. The colonel, who had been seriously ill for several months, was to sail the next day for England, or Malta (I don’t exactly recollect which), and was saying how much he regretted being obliged to leave his regiment--that he feared the voyage would not do him much good, as the steamer he was going by was so full of sick. He had scarcely spoken the words, when in walked Admiral Boxer.

“Well, Dennis, my friend! I bring you good news.”

“What’s that, admiral?” said the colonel.

“Why, I have another vessel going to-morrow, with very few sick on board, and I have secured a good large cabin for yourself and lady.”

“Many, many thanks! my dear admiral,” said Colonel Dennis, in which his lady also joined.

“Ah! Monsieur Soyer, are you here? How are you to-day?”

“Quite well, admiral. I hope you are the same!”

“No; I am very tired.”

“Will you take a glass of wine, admiral,” said Colonel Dennis, “and sit down, a minute?”

“No, I thank you; my nephew is waiting lunch for me, and I have been up since three o’clock this morning helping to put out the fire on board that ship in the harbour.”

“Well, how did you leave it, admiral?” inquired the colonel.

“The powder is safe, but the vessel is much damaged.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Bracebridge; good-bye, Monsieur Soyer. I shall see you again--I am coming on board in an hour. You will not sail till three o’clock. Indeed,” said he, going out, “I must take some lunch first, for I feel very faint.”

“You’re right, admiral,” said I; “you work so hard, that if you don’t take care of number one, you will kill yourself.”

“No fear of that, Monsieur Soyer; nothing can hurt an old fellow like me.”

He then almost ran, instead of walking. Bidding the colonel and his lady adieu, Mr. Bracebridge and myself immediately went on board, fearing we might get late. Many visitors were still there, and the captain and Lord Ward begged of them to retire. A few minutes after, we were en route. The admiral was expected, but did not come; he sent some of his officials instead. As soon as we were under way, the couch was brought on deck--Miss Nightingale lying upon it. Mrs. Roberts held a white umbrella over her face to screen her from the extreme heat of the sun, fanning her at the same time. In the saloon, Lord Ward and myself were busily engaged in a most extraordinary sport, hunting the Crimean Zouave flies, which, no matter how you repulsed them, always came back to the charge. We had by this time entered the bay, but were still on half steam. Lord Ward bade Miss Nightingale farewell, as well as all on board, and went off in a small boat. We then shaped our course for Constantinople direct, it being too late to go and see Sebastopol. It was striking eight bells as we cleared the Bay of Balaklava.

We were at sea; and our heroine was where I had recommended her to be, viz., between heaven and the ocean.

Miss Nightingale remained on deck till nearly dusk. The sea was calm, and the burning sky was so strongly reflected upon its surface that we seemed to be rapidly traversing a lake of fire. The radiant face of the sun itself had for some time been concealed by the majestic rock upon which stands the monastery. The turbulent noise of the harbour was succeeded by a dead calm; even the zephyrs seemed to have deserted the collapsed sails, and nothing was heard but the rapid action of the paddles. Of all on board, only Miss Nightingale, her nurse, and myself seemed to enjoy this new scene of enchantment. The rest of the passengers were slumbering in the saloon. Even the turbulent voice of the cannon in and before Sebastopol was mute to our astonished and still-confused ears. Time, it is truly said, tries all! We were at the seat of war, looking at my watch, only eighty-seven minutes before.

Owing to the noise of a busy sea-port, as well as the succession of importunate visitors who, though not admitted, were announced and politely answered, Miss Nightingale must have been, I was well aware, much fatigued. I therefore did not touch upon any important subject of conversation, but begged of her to be prudent and return to her cabin before the evening dew began to fall. She could not help expressing her gratification at the sublimity of the sudden change. Her countenance appeared to have imbibed the balm of health, and to have extended it to her feeble frame.

“Did I not tell you true, mademoiselle,” said I, “when I begged of you to leave, were it only for a short time, ‘ces soucieux rochers, et cette terre d’esclaves?’”

She smiled, and requested the captain to have her removed to her cabin, which was immediately done.

Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge, and myself, cheerfully obeyed the invitation of an intelligent silver bell which summoned us to dinner at his lordship’s table. I trusted a genuine appetite without the slightest reserve to a well-provided and well-conceived dinner, regretting only having lost the use of my substantial appetite. The wine was on a par with the dinner--excellent.

Early morn found me shaking hands with my illustrious confrère the chef, in his turret-like kitchen. I thanked him much for his capital dinner. “Pray what have we for to-day?” was the last political question I put to him. I am unwilling to append the bill of fare, as it might give an unexpected appetite to my readers, and thus induce them to drop this light reading for something more substantial. That would not answer my purpose, as I wish them to go on with the book without depreciating the cook. The night had been rather rough, and every one on board was ill. The day passed as it generally does when persons have been so roughly nursed by the mother sea. The dinner was probably excellent, but no one could tell--not even myself. Towards night, the rolling waves grew a little more sociable; so we entered into conversation, and the wine and grog circulated freely. The captain, like all captains who have never been sick or drowned, laughed at us, saying we were bad sailors.

“The title of ‘good sailor’ I am not ambitious to merit, captain,” said I.

Next morning, I was on deck walking to and fro with the captain; the night had been a little calmer than the previous one, but very foggy.

“Bless my soul!” said he, “what a bother it is we left Balaklava so late. It is just like his lordship--we never know when we are going to start. I would not give a fig for a voyage of pleasure at sea: business men, sir! business men for navigation. All is calculated and goes right; but for the present I don’t know where we are, it is so foggy. We are not far from the coast; but we can’t for the life of us get in, even if we were abreast of the entrance of the Bosphorus. We ought to have got under way, as I proposed, at nine o’clock. Have you good sight, sir?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Well, look with this glass to the right; I fancy I see the land about seven or eight miles off.”

“Yes,” said I; “the fog is clearing off on that side, and I believe it is the land.”

“In that case,” said the captain, “we are nearly thirty miles out of our way. Though it is very provoking, we may thank our stars the weather was more favourable than the night before.”

It was now nearly five A.M., and the dew was falling very fast. Feeling chilly, I went below, and reposed for a short time upon the sofa. Being thirty miles out of our course gave me time for a good rest before entering the Bosphorus; upon making which I was, at my request, called up. As the sun rose, the fog cleared off, though slowly; the captain made out a landmark, and found that we were, as he had before said, about thirty miles out of our course. The London was fitted up in a princely style; she had two funnels, and was very long. She rolled very much during the voyage, though the sea was not very rough; her being short of ballast was probably the cause. At all events, it made Miss Nightingale very ill.

However, our troubles were now at an end; we were slowly entering the mouth of the Bosphorus, amidst a shower of pearls, which gathered in millions upon the rigging and the deck. This was a great relief to us, after the grey fog and thick fine rain--besides being unaware of our exact position, and floating at hazard on the sea; though, thanks to the caution and watchfulness of the captain, we had been in no danger. It was like the opening of a fairy scene; the clouds were slowly disappearing, disclosing to our fatigued and overstrained eyesight the unique panorama of the Bosphorus. Its strong current appeared to overpower the steam, and we seemed to have come to a stand-still. The thousands who have returned from the arid and devastated soil of the Crimea, under its burning sun, must have enjoyed the refreshing sight I have here attempted to describe. Even Miss Nightingale had enjoyed it from her cabin. She had been removed to the beautiful saloon upon deck, where she had a good view of the enchanting panorama, and appeared almost recovered from her fatiguing voyage; which proves how near pain is allied to pleasure, and vice versâ, particularly as refers to sea-sickness. Miss Nightingale requested to see me. I went and inquired after her health, which, she said, had improved since we entered the river. She then referred to various things she wished to have in her extra-diet kitchen, and to numerous other matters of importance connected with the hospitals. I requested her to keep her mind quiet, and to depend upon me.

“No doubt, mademoiselle,” said I, “I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you for some time, and I would certainly advise you not to go out till you are quite restored to health: I will, therefore, send you a journal of my daily proceedings by Mr. or Mrs. Bracebridge, whom I, of course, shall see every day.”

“Exactly, Monsieur Soyer; but I hope I shall soon be able to go about.”

“So do I, mademoiselle, but do not attempt it before you are quite well; and I can assure you, if I were your doctor, I should be very strict with you, as I hear you are more inclined to devote your kind attention to patients than to yourself.”

She smiled, and replied, “Well, Monsieur Soyer, one is much more gratifying to my feelings than the other.”

I then spoke about Lord Raglan’s visit, and expressed my regret at not having waited longer for him.

“I certainly did not expect to see him,” said Miss Nightingale.

“Ah, you may expect anything from his lordship, he is such an amiable and gallant man.”

“So he is, Monsieur Soyer; and he has always enjoyed that reputation.”

We were at last before the Great Barrack Hospital; the anchor was let down, breakfast was served, and highly relished by the assembled guests. The chef had distinguished himself upon a dish of semi-grilled and devilled fowl, an omelette aux fines herbes, &c. &c.; and thus ended our voyage on board the London. We returned our hearty thanks to the captain, doctor, and all on board, for their kind attention to us, and for the extreme kindness shown to Miss Nightingale; saw our luggage landed, and went on shore. Miss Nightingale would not land till the afternoon, the heat of the sun being so powerful.

Having apprised Lord W. Paulet of our arrival, I went my way, and Mr. Bracebridge his. At five o’clock we again met at the landing-place, and went for Miss Nightingale. One of the large barges used to remove the sick, manned by twelve Turks, was brought alongside. As the roof nearly reached the steamer’s bulwarks, Miss Nightingale was easily lowered upon it. Mrs. Roberts was kneeling at her side, and holding a white umbrella over her head. We went below; the sailors gave three cheers; and our dismal gondola soon reached the shore. Upon landing, the invalid was carried upon a stretcher by four soldiers, accompanied by Lord W. Paulet and Staff, Dr. Cumming (who had visited her on board), followed by an immense procession, to her private house--at which place all dispersed.

I do not recollect any circumstance during the campaign so gratifying to the feelings as that simple, though grand, procession. Every soldier seemed anxious to show his regard, and acknowledge his debt of gratitude to one who had so nobly devoted her soul and comfort to their welfare, even at the risk of her own life.

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XXIV. THREE WEEKS AT SCUTARI

Interview with Lord W. Paulet--Plans discussed--A new medical corps required--Reminiscences--Soyer’s House--An Oriental chorus--Various expedients--Crusade against the rats--Daily duties--The Palace Hospital--Happy hours--Letters to the press--A refractory workman--A dilemma--General good luck--The Governor of Asia’s entertainment--Return visits--A fire in Scutari--A midnight procession--Important honours--Shut out--Arrival of the field-stoves--Interview with the Duke of Newcastle--The Duke’s letter--Preparations for departure--Bornet the Zouave--His qualifications--An indescribable costume.

Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge remained with Miss Nightingale. I went and paid my first visit to Lord William Paulet, having only had the pleasure of catching sight of his lordship at the wharf, owing to the immense crowd. I sent in my card; and the General no sooner received it, than he kindly walked towards the kiosque drawing-room door to meet me, and gave me a most cordial reception.

“Ah, Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “I am glad to see you again! How are you? I have very frequently heard of you! I hope your services have been as useful in the Crimea as they were here. I am happy to say that, during your absence, I have not heard any complaints, and your system works admirably. Dr. Cumming and I have often spoken on the subject since you have been away.”

“It is extremely gratifying to my feelings to hear you speak so favourably of my humble services; and I have returned for a short time to give a look round, according to promise, as it is very important that no change should take place in the management--which might occur, inasmuch as my head man Jullien seems determined to leave. I must find some one capable of replacing him, or must take to cooking again myself till I can find a proper person.”

“I hope, Soyer, you will be fortunate enough to meet with a proper person, as, no doubt, you will be obliged to return to the Crimea.”

“I am pleased to hear that Sergeant Thompson, whom we placed as superintendent over the soldier-cooks, and the men under him, have behaved so well. He says the men have learned to cook; but what he and my man Jullien complain of is, that as soon as anybody is well acquainted with his duty, he is recalled to his regiment. I really believe that is the reason why Jullien is leaving. He says, as soon as he gets a good man, he is taken away, and his successor requires to be taught. This will always be the case, my lord, until a medical corps is formed, in which all the different members are subject to the discipline of the army, without being subject to frequent changes. Till such steps are taken, the duties of military hospitals will never be properly performed. I assure you, when I heard Jullien was about to leave, I was much annoyed, and would have given anything to have been able to return forthwith to Scutari. One day’s neglect would have upset all my former success, and corroborated the remark made by your friend Colonel Dennis--‘that it was all very well so long as I was present; but as soon as I went away, it would be as bad as ever.’ His words would have proved true enough, had I not introduced my simplified system of cookery, and my printed receipts, by following which it is impossible for them to err. At all events, I have now been absent two months; all has gone on right, nor do I see why it should not continue to do so; but I must repeat, the importance of having the duties of the military hospital properly performed is such, that all the persons employed ought to be subject to military discipline. I cannot depend upon civilians for cooks, although they are so well paid.”

“Very true, Monsieur Soyer; I am quite of your opinion, and will take a note of it.”

“The most important thing at present would be for your lordship to secure a few men, about ten, whom I will instruct in the method of cooking with my new field-stoves.”

“I cannot do that, Monsieur Soyer; I have no power away from this; but Lord Raglan, who I hear is very partial to you, will soon see the importance of so doing, and will grant your request.”

“Your lordship is quite right, for Lord Raglan, as well as yourself, has shown me the greatest kindness; so have all the officials--Colonel Steele in particular, with whom I have had more to do than with any one else.”

“I have received a letter from my friend Colonel Douglas, of the 11th Hussars, who tells me they had the pleasure of your company to dinner, and that you kept them quite alive with your funny songs. You were the real cock of the walk, and kept them in a roar of laughter from the beginning to the end.”

“We did spend a very pleasant evening. There were above twenty guests.”

“Ah, I know! they sent me a list of names. You are aware that was my regiment before I came here.”

“Of course I am. Your lordship was in the glorious charge at Balaklava. I hear that the charger your lordship rides is the one you rode on that memorable day.”

“Yes, it is; and we were both very fortunate, as you see.”

“Very, my lord. In these times everybody is subject to the chances of war, as I observed that evening to Major Peel and Colonel Douglas, upon taking my leave of them: ‘a few hours such mirth as this--c’est autant de pris sur l’ennemi’--the French soldier’s proverb.”

“You are right. How did you find Admiral Boxer?”

“Rough and good-hearted--working very hard.”

“I heard several anecdotes of you and the admiral with the Sardinians.”

“Did you? Then you must have heard of my losing four horses.”

“No! I heard of your having lost one, while paying your addresses to the fair Mrs. Seacole.”

“That was it. We had a good laugh over it, at all events. Mrs. Seacole took a deal of trouble in the matter, and found the pony again. She is an excellent woman, kind to everybody, I can assure you.”

“Ah, yes, I know her well; she paid me a visit on her way to the Crimea.”

“She told me she had spent a few days with Miss Nightingale.”

“Talking of Miss Nightingale--she is very much altered.”

“Very much indeed. She has looked much worse, but is now improving fast. Her life was in the greatest danger.”

“So I heard.”

“I hope Lord and Lady Stratford de Redcliffe are well.”

“Yes. I had the pleasure of dining with them at Therapia last Sunday: they inquired after you.”

“I am very happy to hear it, and shall soon pay my respects to them. I much regretted not being in the Crimea during their visit. The Caradoc left Balaklava the day the Robert Lowe left Constantinople; we therefore passed at sea.”

“So I heard. The young ladies were very much pleased with their trip; but Lady Paget remained there. I suppose you saw her?”

“Yes, I did. Her ladyship was staying on board the Star of the South. I called several times, but at last met her ladyship in the camp, driving out in a species of vehicle, and accompanied by Lord Paget on horseback, to whom I had the honour of being introduced by her ladyship. She really looked so pretty, and her equipage was so bad, that a Canova would have sculptured her as a Venus in a wheelbarrow, instead of in a shell.”

“Well, I must say, that would be a new, and, no doubt, an interesting subject. By the bye, we shall shortly have a visit from the Duke of Newcastle. I hope you will be here.”--“Indeed!”

“Yes, I expect him in seven or eight days.”

“I hope his grace will do me the honour of visiting my sanctorum.”

“Of course he will, you may depend upon that; but I will let you know all about it.”

“As it is near your dinner-time, I wish you good afternoon.”

“Where are you going to dine, Monsieur Soyer? I believe I have but meagre fare to offer you--a little soup and a leg of mutton. Will you dine with me?”

“Many thanks--not to-day: we had a late lunch on board; and I have not been to Soyer’s Castle yet, nor seen any of my people.”

“I suppose Lord Ward has a first-rate cook on board his steamer?”

“A very good one, and excellent provisions and wine. The only thing we required was missing--that was appetite. Though fine at starting, we had a rather rough passage for the time of year.”

The conversation terminated, and I took my departure. It was now too late to make any more calls, so I went straight to the noble mansion called Soyer’s House--a real kiosque, built of wood, very much like a cage. The proprietor was a Turkish carriage-builder, a kind of a duck of a fellow, who always retired to rest at dusk, and rose before daybreak to work. He and four bulky Turkish boys accompanied their incessant hammering by an Oriental chorus, which lasted from four till seven in the morning--their breakfast-time. We not only had the satisfaction of hearing them, but from my bed I could see them at work, through my sieve-like bed-room floor, the boards of which did not meet by about half an inch--no doubt to facilitate the ventilation of this Moslem edifice. The weather being hot, this was bearable; but the harmony of such inharmonious birds was not tolerable; so for several days, and while they were in full chorus, various accidents, in the shape of upsetting large buckets of water, occurred. The refreshing liquid at once found its way to the back of our illustrious landlord, and he changed his tone and air, to invoke the blessing of Mahomet upon our devoted heads: upon which I gave them to understand, through an Armenian groom, that if they dared kick up such a row, the General would turn them out of their house. After that we had less singing, but the same quantum of hammering. At all events, we were better than under canvas.

The house was very spacious: it contained nine rooms of a good size. I had left it tenanted by good company--viz., three civilian doctors--Burn, Ellis, and Howard--but found it deserted upon my return, by all but the rats and other vermin. I and my people preferred that to living and sleeping at the hospital, and, after a few days’ sport, and stopping about three hundred holes, it became habitable. The landlord fortunately had the toothache, and the fat boy, to whom I gave a few piastres to hold his noise, was silent. The ablution of the other now and then with a jug of hot water kept this extraordinary establishment quiet.

If the interior of this wooden crib was not all comfort, its outside was very cheerful, and rather elegant. It had the appearance of a large Swiss châlet. Vines grew round it; and if the windows were left open, branches of cherry and mulberry trees, loaded with ripe fruit, hung above one’s head as one lay in bed. The strong morning sea-breeze made the house rock like a cradle, and in shaking the trees which were planted close to the house, forced the branches in. Such was, in a few words, Soyer’s House, in Cambridge-street, Scutari, so much envied by almost all, except the man himself. Five of my people had kept possession in spite of several attempts to take it by storm during my absence. It appeared that lodgings were so scarce, they wanted to take it from them.

One evening, after supper, my man Jullien, who possessed a first-rate tenor voice, was delighting us with the modulations of it, when suddenly the house began to shake most awfully, and the branches of the trees outside the windows entered very abruptly, and much farther than usual, sweeping off all the goblets and bottles from the table, to our great astonishment, nearly upsetting us; when our friend P. M. exclaimed, “Who is shaking the house?” Jullien, who had travelled much, replied, “Don’t be alarmed--it is only an earthquake.”

“Only an earthquake, eh!” said P. M., bolting.

In rushing to the street he upset my Greek servant, who was entering with a bowl of blazing punch, which gave both house and man the appearance of being on fire. We saw no more of P. M. till the next day, as he said he preferred being gulped up by mother earth at one nibble to being smothered beneath the ponderous timbers of my castle. The same day the Barrack Hospital shook so much, that the patients were actually seen in a state of nudity in the barrack-yard. Several jumped through the windows; one man was killed, and the others all more or less severely injured.

Each day I devoted to various hospitals, all went well, excepting the Palace Hospital, where there were not less than forty or fifty sick officers, who were much annoyed by the indifference and neglect of their steward. When I called there, they complained to me, and invited me to try if I could not remedy it, as well as remain and dine with them. I accepted their kind invitation, and soon found where the evil lay. I informed Lord W. Paulet, Drs. Cumming and M’Elray, and Mr. Robertson, the purveyor-in-chief; and a new kitchen was built, larger than the former. A civilian cook was placed there, and, to their delight, a new steward. Everything then gave more satisfaction to the illustrious patients, who always received me with the greatest kindness--so much so, that if nature had endowed me with several appetites daily, I could have dined three or four times per diem.

Without mentioning names, I may summon as witnesses the unfortunate heroes who were at that time gathered around the invalids’ table. So happy was I in their company--and I believe they were equally so in mine,--that I felt perfectly ashamed at being quite well; for even the Doctor was sick, in consequence of the harassing nature of his duties; he had so much to do--which is ever the case in time of war. With reference to their former steward, whom we had christened “la prima donna Antonio,” as a set-off to his trickery in supplying the invalid officers with dessert in the shape of bad ices, unripe fruit, &c.,--things not fit for weak stomachs,--he used, at the request of a few, to bring his guitar, and delight with his voice à la Veluti the ears of those whose palates he had so cruelly displeased. By the aid of a most amiable and kind lady--Mrs. Moore, who some time after died of fever, much regretted by all--I had already their comforts, and, having previously established a better system of cookery, thought I had done some good for those to whom I was so much indebted for their kind and polite attention. Though I did not remain more than three weeks at Scutari on this occasion, never, perhaps, during the whole of my martial career, was my heart so severely tried and tortured.

The following letters, addressed to the metropolitan press, speak volumes:--

SCUTARI, 27th June, 1855.

MR. EDITOR,--Three weeks have hardly elapsed since my departure from the Crimean shores, and Death, that implacable deity of the dark abode, has had to engrave upon his mournful tablet a column of names of some of the most distinguished heroes of the present day--viz., Admiral Boxer, Adjutant-General Estcourt, Sir John Campbell, Colonel Yea, Captain Lyons, General della Marmora, &c.--and W. H. Stowe, a young civilian and bright ornament of the literary world. Every one has heard or will hear of their fame. History will relate facts, but time, as usual, will partly efface from the memory of man the cause of their martyrdom or sudden ill fate; while I--yes, I can relate, though with a sorrowful heart, the circumstances of their social position, having still on the ear a vibratory sound of their pure and candid voices, for it is only a few days since that I was amongst them, cheerfully shaking hands with them, transacting important business with some of them, partaking of the rural hospitality of others, they of mine, and overwhelmed by the kindness of all. Life then seemed proud of them; the bloom of nature was radiant upon their brows. Their eyes spoke volumes. Their hearts were as great in the devotion of the national cause, and the glory of their country, as the pure soul which has since departed from them for a better world. Every drop of their blood no longer belonged to them, but to their Queen, their country, their children--their names to posterity, their fame the beacon to future generations of immortality.

They breathe no more! Such are the chances of war, of life’s uncertainty. Man proposes, and the Supreme Being disposes. Instead of cheerful anecdotes, which a few weeks ago I could have related of those noble departed, I must here, for the present, cast a tenebrous veil over such earthly frivolity, and implore Providence to bestow a better fate upon the still great and noble and brave army.

With the most profound respect, I have the honour to remain,

Your most obedient servant, A. SOYER.

P.S. By the next steamer I shall return to the Camp to join the Staff I have just sent there, and terminate, I trust, with success, my culinary mission, and then return to the shores of Albion.

H.M.S.V. “Caradoc,” CONSTANTINOPLE, 5th July, 1855.

MR. EDITOR,--Scarcely has the seal of my late painful communication had time to set, when the rocky shores of the Black Sea are moaning and re-echoing the solemn report of the minute-gun, while the foaming current of the Bosphorus is rapidly carrying to the snowy white cliffs of Albion the remains of a really great man, Field Marshal the Lord Raglan. To him, above all, I cannot but feel most grateful for the success of my undertaking in the Crimea. The last kind word and smile I received while at the seat of war were from that noble martyr to his country’s cause.

With the highest consideration, I have the honour to be,

Your most obedient servant, A. SOYER.

P.S. The great desire of paying the last tribute of respect to the remains of that noble and brave warrior has delayed for a few days my departure for the Crimea.

One morning I had a serious discussion with one of my workmen, who declined to cook any more for the hospitals unless I gave him the same wages as my head man, Jullien, in whom I placed all my confidence, having known him for years as an honest, industrious, and well-educated man. He was much respected by all in the hospital: Lord William Paulet made much of him, as also did Dr. Cumming, Mr. Robertson, purveyor-in-chief, and, above all, Miss Nightingale and Mr. Bracebridge, for his attention to business and polite manners.

I had left a hundred pounds in his care till next morning, having that day to go to Pera about the printing of my hospital receipts. Upon my return, I learnt that he had disappeared, taking the money with him, except twenty pounds, which he gave to one of the boys: the remainder he afterwards returned. No one knew where he was gone. My first thought was to return to the hospital, and superintend the kitchen department in person. Everything must, I knew, be in great confusion, producing upon the people employed under him much the same effect as the similar defection of a general would on the eve of a battle; and such a battle, too--one that must be fought daily, with the greatest resolution.

It is indeed a question of life and death, that brave dinner-time. So long as we get it regularly, we think nothing about it; but let one day pass without satisfying those imperious natural wants--what do I say?--one day! Even an hour’s delay causes us to make several inquiries--half-an-hour, ten minutes--ay, and even less. Now, suppose I had not, by the merest chance in the world, been apprised of his departure, or had I been ill, and incapable of replacing him and his subordinates, who thought to frighten me by requiring the same wages--which, had they behaved themselves well, I might have granted;--had anything gone wrong, which could not fail in either of those events to be the case, my name and reputation would have been perilled. Thanks, however, to my lucky star, although I have experienced an immense deal of trouble in my various undertakings, I have invariably succeeded in the end. This is one of the hundreds of tribulations and disappointments I met with during my Eastern mission.

A few days after my arrival at Scutari, I had the pleasure of being introduced to the Pacha, who was also Governor of Asia Minor. At a dinner given to him by the colonel and officers of the 11th Hussars, to which I was invited, we had for dragoman or interpreter her Majesty’s messenger, the worthy Mr. Webster. The banquet was given at the humble, dilapidated, and almost decapitated restaurant of Sir Demetri, it being partly unroofed. Demetri, a Greek by birth and name, was a most obliging man. He spoke French, Russian, and English remarkably well, and was much esteemed by all the gentlemen who knew him. I am sorry to say that his followers did not merit the same commendation. British Scutarians, I humbly appeal to your grateful conscience for the former.

To be brief, the Pacha was received in the same room where, a few days previous, we had vainly attempted to sleep. Our most excellent friend and ally, the son of the Prophet, having quaffed with delight and common sense the limpid liquid which takes its birth in France or any other country, but which, for all that, is called champagne, became very witty and cheerful--in fact, good company,--we all felt much interested in the description he gave of his stormy career, which put me very much in mind of that of Ali Baba or the Forty Thieves. His glory seemed to centre in those serious, though childish tales. But, in spite of all eccentricities, the Pacha was amiable and very good company. His health was proposed, with twice the number of his tales, to which he very fervently and cleverly replied, according to our learned interpreter’s report. The evening closed very merrily. We parted, and our illustrious guest left, followed by his numerous suite. The farewell having taken place, the guests evaporated like a light cloud in the atmosphere.

We heard next day that some of the party belonging to the Light Infantry were found herborizing in most profound silence upon the greensward which surrounds the Sultan’s mosque before the Barrack Hospital. No doubt, they had changed their mind on their way home, and preferred staying out to trying unsuccessfully to find their home--the weather being so very hot.

A few days after, all the guests paid their respectful duty to the Pacha. I was one of the last, and having my dragoman with me, was very kindly received by his pachaship, who informed me of his intention to return the compliment of the dinner given to him by Colonel Peel and party upon their return, as they had left the next morning for the Crimea. According to Turkish politeness, I had no sooner entered than all rose from their seats. There were about seven officers with the Pacha, and I was offered the seat next to him. A richly-ornamented chibouque was presented, and of course accepted; various sherbets, lemonade, sweetmeats, and snow-water were handed round in vermeil vases, and gracefully poured into glittering cups.

The conversation was specially directed to me by the Pacha himself. My dragoman carefully translated what was said, and informed me of all that was going on, and what I was to do. It happened to be the time of the Ramazan, and all the minarets were illuminated. I was remarking to the Pacha what an extraordinary and beautiful effect Constantinople and its mosques illuminated produced upon a European, when suddenly the following cry was heard from the street: “Ingan var Scutari!” A regular panic seized upon all present; and they immediately started to their feet. The Pacha took me by the hand; and while he was giving his orders, my dragoman quickly informed me it was the cry of fire, but I was on no account to take my hand from that of the Pacha. I inquired where the fire was? “I don’t know,” he replied; “somewhere in the town. You had better say good-night, as the Pacha must be present.”

The Pacha was now giving his orders fiercely, which I could find, not only by the perpetual motion of his tongue, but by the nervous and strong feeling of agitation of his hand, as he made me walk up and down the large saloon five or six times without even looking at me.

The horses were ready, when a fireman, wet through, arrived, and requested the Pacha not to disturb himself, as the fire was already nearly extinguished. All immediately re-entered in order, except myself, as I wanted to be off.

“No,” said the Pacha; “sit down; we must have a second chibouque, and a round of coffee.”

“Though I did not taste it, I must say I never in my life so much appreciated the offer of a cup of coffee as I did this, which procured the release of my hand, so long a prisoner in that of the Turkish magistrate. Smoking a second chibouque made me feel rather sick, so I requested my dragoman to thank the Pacha for his kind reception, and say that as I was going to the Crimea in a few days, I would do myself the pleasure of paying him a visit before my departure for England. These words being interpreted to him, the first thing he did was to arrest me again, but luckily not by the same hand. He then spoke very fast to my dragoman, who informed me that the Pacha wished me to go with him as far as lower Scutari. It was one of their great Ramazan nights; he was obliged to go, and would esteem it a favour if I could accompany him.

“With all my heart!” was my reply, as I really wished to witness the religious ceremony of the Ramazan.

Ten horses were waiting for the Pacha, and my dragoman informed me that his highness was anxious to do me the Turkish honours, and would walk hand-in-hand with me through the town. Bowing respectfully to his highness, I begged Mr. Mason (a Greek and my dragoman) to say that I should be delighted with the honour--that I much appreciated the extreme politeness and kind intention of his highness.

We then started, the Pacha taking my hand, preceded by six men, bearing five large lanterns, and a glass one with three bougies in it. Behind came his suite, composed of about ten gentlemen; next, the chiboukshis and the horses. Mason, my man, was of course close to me to interpret what the Pacha said, which, however, was of no great importance. Our brilliant cortége slowly wended its way through the dense crowd at lower Scutari. Every one stopped and bowed respectfully to the Pacha. Still holding my hand, he presented me to the assembled crowd. My dragoman here observed, “By seeing the Pacha on foot, and holding you by the hand, all are aware you must be a high personage, and a respected friend of his excellency.” Hearing this, and seeing the soldiers at the various stations go through their military evolutions as we stopped before them, I really began to fancy I was a great man. Thanks to my common sense, I recollected the humble part I had to play on life’s great stage, and could I at the time have obtained possession of my left hand (which my illustrious friend had retained in his own from his door to the spot where we were then standing, a distance of more than two miles), I should have shaken hands with myself, exclaiming, in the words of Shakespeare, “Richard’s--no! Soyer’s himself again!”

This was indeed a splendid soirée, and could I spare space, the extraordinary scenes I witnessed while going the rounds of magisterial duty with the Pacha would of themselves make a very interesting chapter. Our progress came to an end at a confectioner’s shop, the largest and principal one in Scutari. Here sherbet, coffee and chibouques, iced lemonade, sweets, and all kinds of fruit in season, were handed to us, as we sat upon the divans in open view to the public, a great crowd having been attracted to the spot.

Numbers entered and saluted the Pacha, and retired. His pachaship having inquired if I would take anything else, Mr. Mason, replied in the negative. He then said that he was obliged to remain out all night on his magisterial duty, and that he wished me the repose of the dead till morning.

In return for this lively desire, I wished him the night of the living, and we parted. Two lantern-chibougies preceded us, by his order; our horses followed; and about an hour after, we dismissed our Jack-o’-lanterns with rather a comfortable bacshish.

It was striking three, and the sentry refused to let Mason enter the Barrack Hospital, where he was quartered. I offered him a lodging at my house, which he accepted. Though very late, we arrived in time to scare two thieves away over the garden wall; and in stumbling over a basket, we perceived their booty consisted of only a few cherries and mulberries, nothing being deranged or stolen from the house.

Having frequently visited the General Hospital and Kululee, and as the time for my second voyage to the Crimea was approaching, I requested Lord W. Paulet, who was always very desirous of seeing everything himself, to pay one more official visit to the various hospitals, which he agreed to do, and fixed a day for that purpose. He also informed me that the Duke of Newcastle was expected daily. Miss Nightingale had almost recovered, and had recommenced her assiduous exertions.

My long-expected field-stoves had arrived. I made a trial with them before the military and medical authorities, which succeeded admirably, even surpassing my expectations in all respects. I was more anxious than ever to return to the Crimea, and make my grand experiment before General Simpson; and, if approved of by the authorities, to have the proper number ordered by Government for the supply of the whole army, reform the old system, and introduce my new one. The stoves would of course require an outlay at first, which would soon be saved in the great economy of fuel and transport, the small number of men required, independently of the immense improvement in cookery, which was at first the only object I had in view.

Lord W. Paulet’s visit took place, as agreed upon, about three days previous to the arrival of the Duke of Newcastle. He found everything in good order, and I was much pleased. A few days after, I was, owing to the sudden departure of my head man, Jullien, busily engaged at my forges, surrounded by my soldiers, like a modern Vulcan, dressed in my culinary attire, and in the act of manipulating some hundreds of mock rice-puddings (made without eggs or milk--see receipt in Addenda) for my numerous convalescent guests, the brave British, when suddenly my kitchen was filled with military gentlemen of all ranks, amongst whom was no less a personage than the late Minister-at-War, the Duke of Newcastle, Lord W. Paulet, and numerous other high officials--military, medical, and civil. His Grace, setting all etiquette aside, advanced towards me, his hat in one hand, and kindly offered me the other, saying, “How are you, Monsieur Soyer? it is a long time since we had the pleasure of meeting.”

“True,” I replied; “not since I had the pleasure of seeing your Grace, then Lord Lincoln, at the Reform Club.”

“You are right, Monsieur Soyer; you have an excellent memory.”

Though my present occupation was one of the humblest in the category of my art,--viz., making puddings for the soldiers, still the kind condescension of his Grace, and the complimentary remarks he made upon my services, caused me to feel more proud of my humble occupation than I did when I was dressing the great Ibrahim Pacha fête at the Reform Club, in the year 1846, or preparing my hundred-guinea dish at the York banquet, in the year 1850.

The Duke of Newcastle was not the first nobleman of his high rank who had honoured me with that degree of favour; but the others had a certain interest in so doing. For instance, while at the Reform Club, a number of epicures used to pay me visits, shake me heartily by the hand, and most cordially inquire about my health. These had, I always considered, a twofold object in view: first, to induce me to give them the best of dinners; secondly, to ascertain whether I was feverish or in good health. In the former case they would postpone their dinner-party for a few days, or else try to persuade me to follow the plan of the celebrated Marquis de Coucy, one of the greatest French epicures of the nineteenth century, who never engaged a cook without having a written agreement, giving him power to compel him to take medicine a couple of days before he gave any of his grand dinners, which never exceeded twelve in the Paris season. Extra pay was allowed for this pleasant concession on the part of the chef de cuisine, who no doubt turned the funds to tisane--most probably, tisane de champagne.

In the present case, his Grace had no such object in view, as I had nothing to offer him but soldiers’ hospital rations, diets, &c., composed of beef-tea, mutton-broth, rice-puddings, &c., and my new biscuit-bread, which had been made three months, having the date of baking stamped upon it. I drew the Duke’s attention to this, and then broke a little into some mutton-broth; and in five minutes it had all the appearance of a piece of fresh bread soaked in broth. In its dry state, it was much more agreeable to eat than the usual biscuit. His Grace was highly pleased with it, and advised me to recommend its adoption to the War-office upon my return to London.

The kitchen was by this time full of officers and medical men, come to pay their respects to the Duke, forming a numerous escort as he went round the hospital. I gave a short account of my proceedings since my arrival at Scutari, where I had closed all the kitchens but this one, minutely explaining all its details, as well as the plan I had adopted to keep it so clean and so cool; at which the Duke was much struck. Cooking was done daily in it for more than one thousand men, the weather being then intensely hot. After honouring me with most flattering compliments, the Duke and party retired. Lord William kindly informed me that the Duke would visit the other hospitals in a day or two, and that he would give me due notice of his visit. Accordingly, two days afterwards, we showed the Duke over the General, Hyder Pacha, and the Palace Hospitals, with the arrangements of which he expressed himself satisfied.

A few days after, the Duke of Newcastle left for the Crimea, but, prior to his departure, honoured me with the following letter:--

MESSERIE’S HOTEL, 23rd July, 1855.

DEAR M. SOYER,--Accept my best thanks for the copy of your book.

Your philanthropic labours in this country deserve the thanks of every Englishman, and for one I am grateful for what I have seen of your good work at Scutari.

I am, yours very truly, NEWCASTLE.

At length I found two tolerably good cooks, and re-established everything in the culinary department to my satisfaction. My presence being no longer required, I prepared for my departure. I had taught about a dozen soldiers my system of camp-cooking and the use of my new field-stoves. I also engaged a French Zouave, named Bornet, belonging to the 3rd Regiment, whose term of service was just out. He was to act as my aide-de-camp, écuyer, master of the horse, and shield, in case of blows. He knew the savate, single-stick, sword, foil, and could box well; was a capital shot and extraordinary good horseman; he could sing hundreds of songs, and very well too; had a good voice, danced excellently, and was altogether of a very happy disposition.

Among his other then unknown qualities, he was very quarrelsome; a great marauder à la Zouave; remarkably fond of the fair sex, in his martial way, running all over the camp after the heroic cantinières; and, though never drunk, seldom sober, always ready to fight any one whom he thought wished to injure or speak ill of me. In fact, he was, much against my will, my bull-dog, and kept barking from morning till night. He was allowed to wear his costume for twelve months longer. In fact, my Zouave was a model of perfection and imperfection. The doctor of his regiment, who admired him for his bravery and cheerful abilities, impressed upon me that he was the man I required. “Very scarce they are,” said he; “there are not more than one hundred left out of the whole regiment who began the campaign; and he is sound, although wounded at Inkermann.”

Upon this strong recommendation, and having to run so much risk about the camp, as well as for the curiosity of the thing, I engaged Bornet, the Zouave; had a new costume made for him; introduced him to Lord W. Paulet, Miss Nightingale, &c. &c. Everybody found him extremely polite, good-looking, and intelligent. We bought four horses, and he had the sole command of the cavalry department. All admired his extraordinary good style of horsemanship, particularly Lord W. Paulet. Thus, the illustrious François Patifal Bornet, late of the 3rd Zouaves, was recognised as belonging to the British army. He and twelve soldiers composed the brigade of Captain Cook--a title I had assumed in the camp.

We were now ready to enter upon our campaign. I had paid my respects to Lord and Lady de Redcliffe at Therapia, and to General Vivian at Buyukderé: he was then at the Palais de Russie. In this town I and my Zouave created quite a sensation. I had adopted an indescribable costume. It seemed to have attracted John Bull’s particular attention on his supposed visit to the camp. Such, at least, was the case according to the Times’ correspondent, who, in a dialogue with John Bull, says, “I beg your pardon, but who is that foreign officer in a white bournous and attended by a brilliant staff of generals--him with the blue and silver stripe down his trousers I mean, and gold braid on his waistcoat, and a red and white cap? It must be Pelissier?”

“That! why, that’s Monsieur Soyer, chef de nos batteries de cuisine; and if you go and ask him, you’ll find he’ll talk to you for several hours about the way your meat is wasted. And so I wish you good morning, sir.”

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XXV. FESTIVITIES AT SCUTARI AND VISITS TO FRENCH HOSPITALS

A grand Oriental summer banquet--The first halt--Start afresh--The Pacha’s harem--Numerous visits--A brilliant cavalcade--Revolt among the horses--The Governor’s reception--A Turkish kitchen--Hand-in-hand--Roasted lambs à la Turque--Gigantic bill of fare--Wine--Vitellius and the Grecian crayfish--Grand entertainment--List of guests--Return home--Politeness of the Pacha--Preparations for my return to the Crimea--Visit to the French hospitals--Dr. Pincoff--Great Hospital of Pera--Cordial reception--Nature of the arrangements.

Previous to entering upon this second campaign, in which my life was daily likely to be more or less in danger, my gastronomic star was, unawares to me, shining brightly. An unexpected invitation arrived from the Pacha of Scutari to a grand Oriental summer banquet, to which not less than eighty guests were invited. Lord W. Paulet was to be the chairman. The day arrived, we all met at head-quarters, and the principal authorities were present. Lord W. Paulet soon joined us; we started, forming a very formidable and brilliant cavalcade, everybody being in full costume. The Pacha had sent a mounted escort to accompany us, consisting of six cavaliers. Our first halt was at Ismail Pacha’s, who received us cordially at his pretty kiosque. He spoke excellent French, and invited us to be seated in his large and elegantly-furnished drawing-room, where a chibouque was presented to each guest, with the indispensable Turkish thimble-cup of coffee. We had a very interesting conversation with the Pacha about the war, and his opinion upon it; also a short review of Paris and London, as he had visited both.

We then walked under very delightful foliage, where fountains were playing, Asiatic and aquatic flowers growing--plants of rare beauty--orange and lemon trees, &c. We all fancied we had arrived at our destination, when the Pacha’s horse was brought into the yard where ours had been left. The signal was given: we all mounted, and started afresh. A very coquettish square kiosque erected in the garden, and well latticed round, seemed to be very animated within. It was the Pacha’s harem, from whence no doubt the imprisoned odalisques were enjoying the lively scene passing in the yard, by peeping, not exactly à la Peeping Tom, but from behind the railings, or, more properly speaking, lattice.

Headed by the Pacha and suite, with Lord W. Paulet, Major Sillery, &c., we again started. In ten minutes we reached another kiosque, not by any means so luxurious as the first. We alighted, and were received in the garden by Hiera Bey, to whom the place belonged. In the drawing-room the same ceremony of chibouques and coffee was performed. The Bey and his suite joined our party, and we went to the residence of another pacha, where the same ceremony was about to be renewed, but to which we unanimously objected. His pachaship and suite, altogether about twelve persons, also joined us, thus doubling the number of our cavalcade, which, as we passed along the narrow lane bordered on either side by thick and high edges, had the appearance of an immense serpent stealing through the grass about to swallow its prey: the head being represented by the Oriental corps and costume, admirably suited the effect I have described. Prey was indeed in store for the imaginary serpent. Of the truth of this my reader will be able to judge by the bill of fare, which I carefully preserved, as one of my first Oriental culinary reminiscences.

The sound of strange instruments informed us that we were near our destination. A military band of about fifty were playing Oriental airs, half wild, half melodious. We were conducted through a garden towards an elegant maison de plaisance, leaving the horses at the entrance; some of them, not being partial to music, began fighting and kicking. It took nearly an hour to pacify them and make them behave themselves. They were horses of different nations, and this was probably the reason why they could not agree.

Several were lost, which gave a little extra occupation to the Asiatic palfreniers. By this time we had all been received by the Governor of Asia Minor and his numerous friends, who were sitting upon divans in the open air, smoking chibouques. We were invited to do the same, which we did, forming a circle of considerable circumference. A regular forest of long chibouques was brought towards us, and one was presented to each guest. We were thus, for the third time, obliged to enjoy this everlasting Oriental splendour; but in lieu of coffee, raki was introduced, a liquor somewhat similar to perfumed gin, or the French absinthe. It more particularly resembles the latter, as it turns white when mixed with water. It is much drunk in Turkey--usually before dinner. Many prefer it neat, but it is very intoxicating. The usual salutations having been exchanged, we all drank, and the glasses were taken away by slaves.

After smoking another half-hour, I went to Mr. Dixon, Lord W. Paulet’s dragoman, and asked him to request permission of the Pacha for me to see the kitchen. As I knew that two whole sheep and two lambs were to be roasted, I felt anxious to see the process. He had no sooner mentioned my wish than the Pacha rose, and, offering me his hand, conducted me towards the place where the sacrifice was being consummated. We were thus again, as at Scutari, hand-in-hand, if not hand-and-glove. About forty cooks were at work preparing the dinner. I felt much interested in their primitive way of roasting large pieces, which can only be equalled by gas. With the intestines they make a kind of black pudding, sausages, and rolls of tripe, with which they surround the neck of the animal: they have also skewers of tripe and liver, heart, &c., tied on each side of the haunch. The Pacha ordered some to be cut off for me to taste, which I did with great gusto, and really much approved of their sound judgment in turning everything to advantage, and making additional dishes of what we civilized people so cleverly throw away. It was so good, that I begged the Pacha to send a small dish up for Lord W. Paulet and a few others to taste, as it was best while very hot. It had a peculiar aromatic taste which imparts a delicate flavour, and was very palatable.

The liver, which we of course use, was cut into small portions, and mixed with the intestines. The lambs were dressed in the same way, and were still more delicate: they were so perfectly roasted, that every part of the animals was the colour of a lump of gold.

ORIENTAL WAY OF ROASTING SHEEP AND LAMBS WHOLE, À LA TURQUE.

Though a primitive method, it is far from being a bad one. About a hundredweight of wood is set on fire in an open place, yard, kitchen, or elsewhere, and when burnt the ashes are piled up pyramidically to about the length of the lamb. Four stones, about a foot high, are then placed two at each end, and about eighteen inches from the fire; the lambs are spitted, head and all, upon a long piece of wood, with a rough handle similar to that of a barrel-organ. They are then put down; each one being turned by one man, who now and then moves the ashes to revive the fire, at the same time basting the lambs with a bunch of feathers dipped in oil. A pan should be placed underneath to receive the fat. This was on this occasion omitted. Each lamb took about three hours doing by that slow process; but I must repeat, they were done to perfection, and worthy of the attention of the greatest epicure.

The productions of the other culinary dainties are duly noticed in the following gigantic bill of fare.

Cavvat alle sis ka-babby Yeade ra-dash yor nesee Terbelee partsha

Vegetables.

Dolmah asmae a back Ahgem ka back yah ne see Arabertan ham yersee Ser kresheur kap a massee Patlezan dol massee Cavarta yah prai il ha doline Bag silk massee Guvetts tu lur soo Eskaille keftee Pelaffee Puff borree Adgec ah med borro Bad am lee charsa

Confiture.

Baclava Ecmeck card aikae Yur mur tarla lock moh Kavanne Hi varta cleasee Touh cleuksu Evgbet pupered by Jorept Zetala Parson fruture Peti parta ougrah Cutalette Pura patat assause espariol Crab miones Puopon mohoness Cram alla vanneil Cram ah coffee Vn espeak derubea Eurotee despadree Glass oh citrone Glass alla cream Turk cook mahamet Prissole Sarmagoll Cheverma cugickabby Surmah pelich ka-babby Capammah ordack parlazee Coccorrets ka-babby Fassula illa tuge ka-babby Cavoticla ahmet ka-babby Kahoat he la sahe slam ka-babby Kultug dol massy Tuga yaha ne see Sham keflasee Rahat lokoum

Amidst a clump of trees, situated on a plot of grass, and though so close at hand, quite out of sight, a large marquee had been erected, under which an elegant banqueting-table was covered with choice fruits, flowers, pastry, valuable ornaments, and sweets of all kinds. Each guest had his place numbered. I was fortunately near the centre, facing the chairman, and only two from the worthy host. The tout ensemble was charming: the various costumes, profusion of light, and the Turkish music, gave such a novel feature to this liberal entertainment, that, for the first time, I began to understand the reality of the Oriental luxury so much vaunted by poets.

Wine, though abominated by the Moslem, flowed in profusion. Excellent Bordeaux, Champagne, Madeira, &c., was freely passed round and quaffed with gusto, to the number, I should say, of several gross of bottles. The children of the Crescent drank as freely as ourselves. The sheep and lambs, dressed up whole, were placed upon the table, and every guest helped himself à la Turque. The meat was pulled from the animal by the Hadji Bachi, with his fingers, in presence of the company, placed in a large dish, and handed round to the gourmets, who also helped themselves with their fingers. The lamb was admirable; an Apicius would have gone to Turkey to dine, had he known such delicacies were to be obtained there. That worthy left Rome in a vessel, specially chartered by him, to go to Greece, in order to obtain some crayfish rumoured to be larger than any Rome could produce. On arriving, he found they were only the same. He asked the fisherman, who had been some time expecting him, “Have you never caught larger crayfish than that?”

“No, signor, never!” was the reply.

Rubbing his hands with delight, he ordered the captain to sail back at once, saying, “I have left some at home larger than these, and they will be spoiled if the wind is not in our favour.”[17]

The other dishes were eaten in the European fashion, with knives and forks. The fête was under the management of a gentleman I had the pleasure of knowing well, Mr. Ralli, a large proprietor at Kadikoi and a Greek merchant, who, to oblige the Pacha, took upon himself all the responsibility of carrying out his excellency’s liberal ideas.

London, or even Paris, could not have produced more effect or given more éclat to the entertainment, though, of course, in a different style. Healths were proposed, and toasts given. The speeches were short, but to the purpose. The music was very original; the fireworks were extremely bad, and the illuminations very tenebrous.

Names of Guests at the Dinner given by the Pacha of Scutari.--Brigadier-General Lord William Paulet; Hon. Captain Macdonald; Captain Seager; Major Sillery; Major Morris; Dr. Rowdon, civil surgeon, late professor of anatomy at Middlesex Hospital; W. Heaton, Esq., medical staff; Richard Ambler, Esq.; J. S. Robertson, Esq., purveyor-general to the forces; Rev. George Lawless, senior chaplain; Rev. Hugh Drennan, chaplain; Rev. W. Fergusson, chaplain;--Hawkes, Esq., barrister-at-law; Eustatio S. Ralli, Esq., sen., Greek merchant; Etienne Eustatio Ralli, jun., Esq.;--Dixon, Esq., first-class interpreter to Lord William Paulet;[18] Monsieur Soyer, &c. &c. Indisposition prevented the attendance of his Excellency Omer Pacha.

After five hours of eating and drinking, we returned thanks to our illustrious host, and rose to retire. He accompanied us as far as his Scutari residence. The evening was very dark, and the horses were mixed together, so that we had some trouble in finding our own. At length we started. I was the last to quit his pachaship. As I lived in Cambridge-street, I was a near neighbour of his, and he kindly escorted me to my door, followed by his men bearing lanterns. He would not leave me till the door was opened, and I had entered the house. We then parted, and I shall never forget the generous reception I received from our worthy Mussulman ally, the governor of Asia Minor.

Before my departure, I took Lord W. Paulet, Dr. Cumming, Mr. Robertson, and Miss Nightingale’s orders, which were numerous; said farewell to all, and left everything in a most satisfactory state. I requested Sergeant Thompson to send me a weekly report of the proceedings in the kitchens at the various hospitals. Mr. Robertson, the purveyor-in-chief, also promised to keep a sharp look-out himself, and acquaint me with anything important which might occur. I spent a few days with Dr. Humphrey at Kululee Hospital, then under the admirable management of Miss E. Hutton and the Sisters of Charity. Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge, after exerting themselves to the utmost, during the hardest time of all, in the Scutari hospitals, had left for England: important family affairs, I believe, required their presence at home. Miss Nightingale had quite recovered; and she proposed to visit the Crimea again in less than a month, and had requested me to attend to various matters before she arrived. Of these, as they were numerous, I made a list, saying, “I shall be happy to attend to your commissions even if you tripled the number.” As my twelve field-stoves had been sent to the Crimea, I knew that my time would be principally taken up by field-cookery, and that I should only be able to give a casual look through the various hospitals.

I was anxious to obtain an insight into the culinary arrangements and system of management in the French hospitals. This I effected by the aid of Dr. Pincoff, who had frequently brought French doctors to visit my kitchens, and taste my new diets--of which they seemed to approve. Some of them would say, “They are too good and expensive for our hospital;” others, “Your diets are excellent; but our soldiers would not like them, not being used to that kind of food.” This, probably, might at the commencement have been the case; but a man soon gets accustomed to a good thing. I had tried this upon several hundred English soldiers, who never refused it, but, on the contrary, did not like to return to the old system of diets. I had not the slightest doubt they would like the change, but it could not be effected. At all events, this increased my curiosity. Dr. Pincoff, a friend, and myself, determined to go at six o’clock in the morning (the time of their first rounds) to visit the Great Hospital of Pera.

This early hour of visiting patients I cannot but give my disapproval of, as it is the time they are likely to repose, or at all events feel more languid than any other part of the night; which disturbance reminds me of the anxious servant, who being requested by his master to awake him at an early hour, knocked at his room-door four or five times during the night to apprise him of the number of hours he had left for sleep. Indeed, even more than this, they actually ask the patients, at that early hour, what they would like for dinner?--the patient, instead of the doctor, prescribing. We arrived at half-past five A.M., through a burning sun, which I consider, at that hour and that time of year, more oppressive in the East than at ten, eleven, or even twelve in the day, when the sea-breeze refreshes the Oriental atmosphere. We were immediately introduced to the medical gentleman on duty, who had just commenced his rounds. He was attended by two orderlies and a Sister of Charity; one of the former carried a tray, upon which the Sister seemed to have placed articles of food belonging to her department: she was also noting down on a tablet the orders of the doctor as to a few articles of extra diet. We watched the proceedings closely, which lasted nearly an hour: each doctor had two wards to attend, and each ward contained about sixty patients.

Having made several remarks on the various subjects to the doctor, and thanked him for his attention, I promised to forward him a book of the new dietaries I had so successfully introduced in the hospital at Scutari. Though far from anticipating that any eminent member of the French faculty would change his system, and adopt mine in preference to the French medical régime, still, as I have learnt a great deal from the system pursued in the French hospitals, I should feel very proud if any of my receipts proved acceptable. In fact, I should be delighted to show my gratitude for the generous reception afforded me when I applied for leave to visit the French hospitals upon my passage through France on my way to the Crimea.

The order with which all was carried on was admirable. Without the slightest intention of making myself officious in this matter, I cannot help remarking, that the broths and tisanes given to the patients were rather of a thinnish nature, and given in much larger quantities than by the English doctors to patients affected with similar diseases;--my opinion on the subject being, that for the man who has lived too well, a close and light diet is most beneficial, his blood being too rich; while the debilitated soldier’s blood requires regenerating: which caused me to submit succulent diets for dysentery and diarrhœa, and cooling ones for fever.

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XXVI. MY SECOND TRIP TO THE CRIMEA

Off in the Ottawa--A calm in the Bosphorus--Deceitful appearances--Captain Bone--Fellow-passengers--A concert in the Black Sea--Intrepidity of P. M.--My Zouave--Harmony in my culinary troop--A tremendous crash--Change of scene--Alarm of P. M.--A bad passage--A fit of the blues--Reflections--Visits--Fresh faces--Off to the Camp--Colonel Steele--A note from my Zouave--French head-quarters--The lost found--Standing treat--The cantinière--Return to the Ottawa--Bornet’s excuses--La petite Mère Jouvin--Effects of enthusiasm--Character of the Zouaves--Remove to the Baraguay d’Hilliers.

Two days later, I and my people started on board the Ottawa. The day of our departure was magnificently fine; the Bosphorus and Black Sea looked like a sheet of glass. I remarked to the captain, “One might cross the Black Sea in a caique.”

“Yes,” he replied, “in its present state; but who knows how soon we may have it dancing mountains high? I have seen it so before; and where would you be with your caique then, Monsieur Soyer?”

“Of course, you are right, captain; but I suppose it is not often thus at this time of the year.”

“Even at this time of year, I should be sorry to be one of the caidjees.”

Captain Bone was a very agreeable man--high-bred--educated at Oxford--well stored with bons-mots and good anecdotes--always laughing at other people’s jokes as well as his own--very severe on deck and very funny with his friends. He kept a good cook, and therefore a good table, looking sharply after it himself--spending, probably, no more money than other captains, but faring better--very anxious to please his passengers--and at all times very liberal. The proverb says, “Speak of a man as you find him;” and in this manner I speak of the worthy captain.

The ship was very full, especially of recovered invalids from Scutari. Numbers of doctors from Rankioi and Smyrna were on board, on their way to the Crimea, where their services were required. I had engaged a young Sardinian named Antonio, a good-looking youth with a very good voice. As the evening was fine, he and my Zouave began singing, which they did admirably, every one joining in chorus. Thus we spent a delightful soirée on the bosom of the Black Sea.

P. M., who by this time was becoming quite a brave man, still formed part of my suite. That gentleman’s intrepidity was such, that no one could prevent him from facing at all times the most animated fire--I mean the fire of a short pipe or a long cigar. My Zouave was everywhere about the vessel, which did not seem large enough for him and his four horses. I at last quieted him, by requesting he would think of nothing while on board but eating and drinking moderately, as well as singing a song at night when I required it. He promised faithfully not to throw my Armenian groom overboard, nor to smash the brains of my Italian servant Antonio, but to live like a Christian, in good fellowship with all, and sing when I pleased. One of my cooks, named Jean, an Albanian, while quarrelling, had threatened to cut another, named Victor, into four pieces, and throw them into a pickle-tub. He also gave up this professional job. They all shook hands, and the greatest harmony appeared to reign in my culinary troop.

My secretary, T. G., a gentleman of colour, now accompanied me for the second time to the Crimea; and the contrast presented by us, myself being equipped in an Oriental costume, T. G. clothed in white, and my Zouave rigged in full feather, was very great; and my suite always created a sensation throughout the camp, more especially when accompanied by the invincible P. M., who was attired in nankeen, a very peculiar style, he being an extensive patronizer of the eminent firm of Messrs. Nicoll.

All on board the Ottawa had for some time retired to their berths. I can seldom sleep at sea; so I was sitting on deck, smoking my cigar, now and then addressing a word to the man at the wheel and the second mate. We praised the fineness of the weather: the upper deck was as steady as a drawing-room floor, and the ocean seemed to belong to us alone.

It was nearly one o’clock, and Morpheus, who generally deserts me on such occasions, stole upon me softly like a zephyr. I felt inclined to submit, and went below to lie down. Wrapped in deep repose, I seemed to quit this world of realities, and to wander in the regions of dream-land. This continued till seven in the morning, when a tremendous crash awoke me suddenly, and I perceived that we were dancing mountains high.

The crash was caused by two glasses and a bottle of soda-water, belonging to my companion P. M. in the upper berth. They had been left upon the wash-hand stand; both glasses were smashed, and the bottle broken, with a tremendous report, making me fear that in the night we had, by mistake, approached too near to Sebastopol, and were being fired into by the batteries. Turning round, I perceived the supposed enemy on the cabin floor in a fearful state of dilapidation--the bottom of the soda-water bottle rolling to and fro, according to the will of the waves, which, it appeared, had risen to that pitch in an incredibly short space of time--a thing common enough in the Euxine, or Black Sea.

“Good heavens!” exclaimed P. M., “where are we?”

“Don’t be alarmed,” said I. “We are under fire; every man to his gun; so let us go up on deck and fight like Britons.”

“The devil we are! Oh dear, I can’t fight, I am so sick.”

“Then you must swim or sink.”

In less than a minute he rushed from the cabin, and concealed himself under the large dinner-table.

As I was dressed, I went upon deck.

“At half-past five,” said the mate on duty, “it began to rain, and the wind suddenly changed. At seven o’clock, a gust of wind actually bent the sails across the yards, taking us dead aback; and in less than an hour, the sea rose to the state you see it in now.”

The captain, who was giving his orders from the crossbridge, called out to me, laughing, “Well, Monsieur Soyer, where is your caique now? Are you ready for your breakfast?”

Of course I was, though I could not boast of having much appetite. The remaining part of the passage was very rough. The Ottawa rolled very much, having, if I recollect right, shot and shell for ballast. The contrast afforded by the sudden change from the calm of the previous day, no doubt caused us to feel its effects the more. At all events, we arrived in due time quite safe. An unexpected bad passage at all times makes everybody feel uneasy and low-spirited. The nearer I approached Balaklava, the more uneasy I felt. A kind of melancholy had come over me, and my feelings were so indescribable, that while we were entering the harbour of Balaklava, I was surprised to see the sun shining over that picturesque spot, and traffic going on as usual. Instead of a lugubrious veil hanging over the whole fleet, all was going on pretty much in the same manner as when I had left. Even nature seemed to have smiled upon the hills, valleys, and mountains, which were gayer than before.

Such a scene caused me to breathe more freely. I felt that the noble departed, who but a few days before were in enjoyment of health, honour, power, and rank, had been removed by their gracious Creator, and therefore, though Lord Raglan, Admiral Boxer, Sir J. Campbell, General Estcourt, and numbers of other great men, had been called away during my short absence, they were only summoned from this world--so, at least, we are bound to believe--to fulfil their mission in another and a better sphere.

On the day of our arrival, I paid my respects to several great personages, who, on account of the sad events before mentioned, were mostly new-comers, although they knew me either personally or by name. It was like beginning my mission afresh, making it not only very painful as far as feelings went, but also difficult. It was something like being compelled to build an edifice which had fallen to the ground when near its completion.

Such were my feelings upon my arrival on my second visit to the Crimea. As I could only remain a couple of days on board the Ottawa, as she was to return immediately to Constantinople, I employed my time in settling my plan of campaign.

First of all, I paid my respects to Admiral Freemantle, on board the Leander, and I was very kindly received. Next I went to Sir George Maclean, the new Commissary-General; and a more amiable gentleman I did not meet during my mission in the Crimea. He informed me that the dry vegetables from Messrs. Chollet had arrived, and that some had already been issued to the troops, and were highly approved of. I requested an order to go and inspect them in the stores, with which I was immediately favoured.

Having executed all Miss Nightingale’s commissions, as well as others, the next morning I started early for head-quarters, and arrived there about nine. Much important business was going on at the time. A number of horses, foaming with perspiration, were in the yard, the despatch-riders having no doubt quite forgotten that the success which attended their mission was owing to their poor quadrupeds. I was at once received by Colonel Steele, who was much pleased to see me. After expressing our regret at the lamentable events which had occurred since our last meeting, we entered upon business.

“Well, Monsieur Soyer,” said the colonel, “if you like to wait, you can see General Simpson; but, as to-morrow is Sunday, he will be able to grant you a longer interview. To-day he could not spare ten minutes.”

“Much obliged, colonel,” I replied; “and I will not fail to be here to-morrow at ten, as you advise.”

“Very well, Monsieur Soyer; I shall be here, and happy to see you.”

My Zouave, whom I had brought with me, had disappeared, leaving word with the man at the entrance-hall that he would return in ten minutes, but that he could not resist paying a visit to his old comrades, who were encamped that day at the French head-quarters. He was en petit costume, as I did not wish him to attract too much attention. I expected, when I learnt he had gone, that the ten minutes would be doubled and tripled, and probably extend to hours: I therefore made up my mind to go about my business in the different hospitals and regiments. First of all, I visited Dr. Hall, the authorities, and my friends round head-quarters.

In the afternoon I returned, but no Zouave had been seen. A note was handed to me by the canteen-man, worded thus:--

MY DEAR GOVERNOR,--Your humble servant, Bornet the Zouave, is half drunk, and will feel much obliged if you will allow him to get quite so. He has met with a few old comrades, who very likely will not last much longer than the others who have died for their country.

Upon receipt of this, having nothing better to do, I started for the French head-quarters. I soon found the regiment. This was not enough--I wanted my man. My next inquiry was for the canteen, quite sure that the cantinière, whether blonde or brunette, no matter which, would have heard of him. It turned out as I had anticipated, and, not giving me time to ask twice, she said, “Yes, Monsieur, he is here--the dear fellow!” And so he was, fast asleep. He no sooner awoke and saw me, than he came and apologized, seemingly almost sober. I say seemingly, for all at once he began to sing and dance like a madman, harmoniously introducing me to his friends, whom I had the pleasure of shaking cordially by the hand.

Some of these recollected my former visit, so I begged of them to sit down. At the same time I offered them something to drink. The liquid material--viz., two quarts of wine and one of rum--with tin cups, was brought, and the French and Jamaica nectar was poured out, with a certain elegance and graceful smile, by the Crimean Bacchante, to these reckless children of Mars. In a short time many of them had fallen in the dreadful struggle. They were enfans perdus, and were all singing different tunes and dancing different steps.

The cantinière was elegantly dressed in her Zouave uniform, ready for starting to the trenches: she wore a red gown, and trousers of the same material, a jacket like that worn by the men, and a red fez cap with a long tassel. She carried a stoup full of spirits, a large basket of provisions, and followed her companions like a trooper.

The Zouaves gave me a pressing invitation to go and see them perform, which I promised to do that day week. They were perfectly satisfied, though I was not at all, with my Zouave, Bornet. As he was not fit to follow me, I gave him up, and, after seeing his horse right and him wrong, I left him, and started alone for Balaklava, returning in solemn solitude to my nautical home--the Ottawa.

At six the next morning he was on board, busily engaged preparing for our departure, so soon as a spot could be selected in the camp for us to pitch our tents. The horses were landed, and my military pupils sent to different quarters, and set to work cooking. I retained three with me for the opening of my field-kitchens. As I approached my deserter, the Zouave, in order to reprimand him for his conduct the preceding day, he remarked, by way of apology, “I know, mon cher governor, what you are going to say--that is, if I play you any more such tricks, you will not keep me, as we agreed when you engaged me.”

“Certainly not,” said I.

“We will begin fresh to-day; but yesterday, you see, governor, the temptation was too strong for me. When I saw my old comrades Riflard and Franc Chatbeau, Panaudet, et la cantinière--Beni Zoug Zoug--des vieux amis de la tente, with whom I had braved all dangers, and so few of us left--not more than fourteen or fifteen of our company--why, voyez-vous, it carried me away, and I could not help standing the picton (which means something to drink), like a Frenchman and a man. And what a fine lass la petite Mère Jouvin is! Don’t she look well in her Zouave dress?”

“Certainly, but did she go to the trenches?”

“Of course she did. She was on duty last night. Her husband goes one night, and she the other.”

“Did you see her this morning?”

“I did. The darling had just returned for more liquor. She told me they had a kind of sortie, and for twenty minutes were peppering one another like fun, and no mistake. Rabbit-shooting, governor--rabbit-shooting! We lost about seventeen men, besides the wounded. But that’s nothing. Last year I saw three times as many knocked over in a sort of skirmish which only lasted ten minutes. We were half frozen and partly starved; and hundreds were found dead or nearly frozen, lying under shelter of those who had been shot, endeavouring to warm themselves before the bodies got cool.”

“Pray, Bornet, don’t recall those things to my mind: they are too painful; but, after all, are only the chances of war, and must be endured.”

“Well, governor,” said he, while cording a large box, “you have gained the esteem of the 3rd Zouaves; and should you require the services of the whole regiment, could it be spared, you would have them, including la petite Mère Jouvin.”

In uttering the last word he gave an extra pull at the rope, which caused it to break, and bang went my Zouave flat upon his back. A general laugh was heard upon deck. He picked himself up quickly, and, rubbing his back, said, “By the explosion of a thousand shells, here is a stunning piece of straw.”

A gentleman present asked him if he had hurt himself. “Very well,” he replied, being all the English he knew, except “yes” and “no.”

Seeing everybody laugh, he went on working at the box, and singing his favourite refrain--

J’aime le vin, l’amour et la gaîté, Les plaisirs, la gloire, Et je suis, sans vanité, L’enfant de la gaîté.

I perceived some spots of blood on his shirt-sleeve, and pointed them out to him. “Oh,” said he, “that’s no novelty. I’ve seen a sample of my blood before this, many times.”

On pulling up his sleeve, we found a deep scratch in his arm, from which the blood flowed pretty freely.

“You had better have it attended to,” said I.

“Bah! bah! nonsense! We Zouaves never trouble any one, particularly the doctor, about such trifles. Be kind enough to tie my pocket-handkerchief round it.”

This done, he kept at his work. Thus I discovered the determined character of these wild soldiers. They made up their minds to care for nothing--were ready either to fight or sing--be out all night without sleep, or comfortable under their tents--were content with much to eat and drink, or little--but so long as they had sufficient to sustain life, be gay, or at least appear so--never making a direct complaint, whatever might happen to them. In fact, though French soldiers like the rest of the army, they had created themselves a body of invincibles, and a company of very odd fellows, who would at all times much prefer robbing a man to wronging him; this being one of their mottoes:--“Nous aimons mieux voler que faire du tort.”

All on board the Ottawa was bustle and confusion. Although not half unloaded, they were receiving the sick, expecting to sail the same evening. We were busy removing to the Baraguay d’Hilliers. She was a transport, and full of hospital provisions. Captain Heath advised me to select her, as she was the vessel likely to remain the longest in harbour, and I should require a pied à terre in Balaklava. Under the direction of my Zouave, all our luggage was soon put on board; and about ten o’clock he was in full dress, it being Sunday. The horses were ready, and we started for head-quarters.

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