XXVII. CAMP LIFE AT HEAD-QUARTERS…

XXVII. CAMP LIFE AT HEAD-QUARTERS

Off to head-quarters--A sensation--Mrs. Seacole’s salutation--General Simpson--An interview--Plans--Invitation to dinner--Bread-biscuits--Prescribe for the General--General Eyre--Sir John Jones--The Staff--Conversation--A remarkable case--The Guards’ camp--Return from a funeral--Colonel Seymour--Dinner at General Simpson’s--A Crimean banquet--Arrival of despatches--A great battle expected--Excitement of my Zouave--A false alarm--My stoves in use--Success of the plan--Economical cooking stove for all classes--Interview with Sir Colin Campbell--Battle of the Tchernaya--Ride with Lord Rokeby--Colonel Seymour recognised at last--Wounded from the Tchernaya--Timely succour--Case of two French soldiers--Visit to the battle-field--Bornet’s indignation--Delay--Opening day fixed--Final preparations.

As Bornet was a dashing cavalier and a very good horseman, he created quite a sensation in Kadikoi, and upon our arrival before the Sardinian head-quarters, General della Marmora and Staff came upon the balcony to look at him. He saluted the general, who appeared much surprised to see a Zouave on horseback in my suite, and not wearing the exact costume of that corps, as I had made some stylish improvement in it, in order to distinguish him from the common soldiers.

As I had to see General Simpson about eleven o’clock, off we went at full gallop, being rather short of time. Mrs. Seacole, who was at her door with her daughter Sarah, had only time to call out, “Go it, my sons!” as we rattled past the house. We arrived in due time, and I saw Colonel Steele, who told me that General Simpson would be happy to receive me directly, and at once conducted me to his audience-chamber. The new Commander-in-chief rose politely as I entered, shook me by the hand, and invited me to be seated. I had previously left a letter for him from Lord William Paulet respecting my mission, and I showed two I had received from the War-office, in which the Minister-at-War expressed in flattering terms his approbation of them.

After the usual compliments of a first interview, General Simpson told me that he had read the letter with great interest, and would give me all the assistance in his power to enable me to carry out my project, which was, first, to make a trial before the Commander-in-chief, the generals and officers of the army, Dr. Hall, &c. &c. If on that occasion my new system was approved of, it was my intention to introduce the same for the benefit of the army at large. To this General Simpson gave his assent, saying, “You have only, Monsieur Soyer, to tell me what you require.”

“First of all, general, that you should select a spot where the trial can take place, and name a regiment with which I can begin.”

“You will require a building for your kitchen.”

“Not at all, general--no masons, carpenters, nor engineers. My stoves are adapted for the open air, to cook in all weathers, and to follow the army.”

“I am aware of that, as I saw the model when you were here last.”

“Exactly. All I shall require will be three bell-tents for myself and assistants, as I must reside in the camp.”

“Very well; I will give orders to that effect.”

“I would also recommend you to select a regiment near head-quarters for your own convenience in visiting and watching the progress of the kitchens.”

“I think the Guards in the First Division will suit our purpose best. Do you know where they are?”

“I do; but perhaps you will be kind enough to send some official with me to select the spot.”

“We will ride over this afternoon. You had better dine with us this evening. You know the greater part of the gentlemen of my Staff; and those you do not, know you.”

“Many thanks, general, for your kind invitation, which I accept with the greatest pleasure.”

“Have you anything in that parcel to show me?”

“Yes; one of my new bread-biscuits, which I wish you to taste.”

On opening the parcel, he took it out, saying, “Lord bless you! this will be too hard for my teeth.”

“Not so hard as you think. It is much softer than the ordinary biscuit which it is intended to replace. At any rate, it may be issued in turn, and will afford an excellent change for the troops. I have kept some above three months, and they are quite good. The Duke of Newcastle tasted one of them, and was much pleased with it.”

Having broken a piece off and tasted it, the general partook of some and found it very good, though not nearly so hard as he anticipated. He declared that it was much more palatable than the common biscuit, and that he quite enjoyed it. General Simpson was at that time very unwell, and he seldom ate anything but arrowroot and biscuit soaked in boiling water. I tasted some of his fare, and found it tolerably good, but not nutritive enough for a man who worked hard. He informed me that he was often occupied eight or ten hours a day writing. As his complaint was diarrhœa, I proposed boiling some plain rice after the receipt given in Addenda, which was at all times so much approved of by the doctors. This I did the next day. The general took a great deal of bodily exercise in the camp and in the trenches.

On quitting General Simpson, I paid my respects to General Eyre, with whom I had some business to transact. He was then at the head of the Ordnance Office, and General Simpson had referred me to him for all I might require from that department. The general gave me a very kind reception, and granted all that I required. Having two hours to spare, I made up my mind to go to the French camp or head-quarters. I had not had the pleasure of seeing General Pelissier since he received the appointment of Commander-in-chief. As I was going out, I met General Jones, the engineer.

“Do you recollect, Monsieur Soyer, where we met last?”

Aware that the General--now Sir John Jones--was the siege and trench engineer, I thought that he referred to my wild expedition when I lost my way in the blood-stained labyrinth. I was, however, quite mistaken. He informed me that it was in Ireland, when I opened my kitchens in the year 1847. I then recollected the circumstance, as I had myself shown him round the kitchens, and explained the method and the process of cooking by steam for ten thousand people, if required, with only one furnace, and by means of steam-pipes connected with a double boiler--a plan, I believe, still in use in many large governmental and civil institutions.[19]

I gave Sir John to understand what great pleasure it afforded me to hear of such reminiscences, and inquired if he intended to go for a ride as far as the First Division.

“No, Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “I don’t think I can. In fact, I have to be in the trenches, where I shall be happy to see you when you have fixed upon the spot for your field-kitchens.”

“I thank you, general, for your kind invitation, but would rather see you out of them, and a good distance off, particularly as a person is more exposed to the fire of the enemy on entering or leaving than when inside.”

Finding that I had hardly time to go as far as the French head-quarters, I went to the kitchen and inquired what there was for dinner. The chef was named Nicolo, and had lived with Sir George Brown.

The horses were at the door in readiness for the general. All the Staff were in attendance before the house, some sitting on the steps, others standing. Among them were Generals Barnard and Airey, Colonels Steele and Blane, Captains Colville, Lindsay, &c., with whom I conversed upon various matters, especially upon my long stay at the Reform Club. General Barnard, as usual, was very talkative and witty.

When Colonel Steele saw General Simpson coming, he called to me to mount, and a few minutes after we set off to the First Division. On our way, we conversed upon various topics, particularly respecting a poor fellow named Harvey, who had been shot in his tent during the night. A ball from one of the enemy’s long-rangers had fractured both his legs, and he died a few hours after receiving the wound. The most remarkable part of the occurrence, as I told the General, was this:--The person who usually occupied the spot got drunk the night before, and was put in the guard-house: this saved his life. The ball made a hole about two feet deep at the very spot where he generally slept, every inch of room being turned to account in the tents. He must have been smashed to atoms, had he been there. The man who was killed had his legs close to this spot, and the shot falling in a slanting direction, cut them both off. The general said he had heard that a man had been killed during the night, but that he was not aware of the circumstances.

“On my way to the General Hospital,” I continued, “in the morning, I saw the tent and the place where the cannon-ball fell. I have the piece of canvas the shot passed through; it was given me by Dr. Taylor of the Third Division, who took me to see it. It bears the name of the man killed and the date of the accident. The doctor, after cutting out the piece which was hanging to the tent, wrote the particulars upon it himself. I will show it to you this evening, general. My man has the relic with him.”

Some officers came and conversed with the general for a short time while we were before the Guards’ camp. On the esplanade the men were parading for the trenches; there might have been four companies. The general spoke to the commanding officers, and they all started. A detachment of the Scots Fusiliers, headed by a band of music playing a lively tune, were returning from the funeral of one of their officers. This scene made a singular impression upon me. I was, in the first place, struck at seeing those fine fellows going, some probably to their doom--for who could tell how many would get back safely?--and in the second place, at the sight of the return of the funeral, playing such a joyous strain. This I learned, upon inquiry, was always the case after interring the corpse and leaving the cemetery. One company had not started for the trenches. It was commanded by Colonel Seymour of the Guards, now aide-de-camp to H.R.H. Prince Albert. General Simpson, who had been some time talking with that officer, said to me, “Monsieur Soyer, here is Colonel Seymour, who will render you any assistance you may require.”

“Much obliged, general.”

“Oh,” said the colonel, “Monsieur Soyer and myself are old acquaintances. I often paid you a visit at the Reform Club.”

“Indeed, colonel!”

“Certainly--very often.”

Though the face was well known to me, I could not for the life of me recognise the colonel, he had such a large beard and mustachios. General Simpson then left us together, and I observed that I should give him as little trouble as possible, but for a short time should require all his kind assistance for the opening of my kitchen.

“You may depend upon me, Monsieur Soyer,” he said,--“that is, if I return safe from the trenches.”

“I sincerely hope you may.”

“No one can tell. Thank God, I have been very fortunate so far.”

“I hope that you will continue to be so.”

We made an appointment. He started on horseback at the head of his men. I was introduced to numerous other officers by the general, and afterwards by the colonel, with many of whom I had the honour of being previously acquainted. Having selected a spot on the esplanade facing the centre avenue which divided the Coldstreams from the Scots Fusiliers, I returned alone to head-quarters, it being then nearly dinner-time. My Zouave had got back from Balaklava, whither I had sent him to fetch my evening dress, in which I immediately attired myself, as dinner was upon the table. We sat down about twelve in number. As I was nearly opposite General Simpson, I had the opportunity of conversing with him upon various subjects. For a Crimean dinner, it was a very good one indeed. Colonel Steele and Captain Colville, who were sitting next me, attributed it to my presence, and said that the cook--Nicolo--had certainly distinguished himself upon the occasion.

“I am much pleased,” I replied, “to be the cause of so great an improvement in the culinary department, and hope for the future the Commander-in-chief will avail himself of my influence by often inviting me to dine at head-quarters.”

After dinner, the evening passed very merrily, and the general cordially joined in the fun, though he seemed full of business, leaving the table several times to write despatches in his cabinet. We were smoking on the balcony at the back of the house, facing the vineyard, when the general returned from one of his short excursions, and I showed him the piece of canvas which I had obtained from my Zouave.

“Had the ball,” I said, “fallen upon a stone, or anything offering resistance, it might have killed twenty men, as it fell in the thickest part of the Third Division. The deep hole it made in the tent was as polished and hard as the interior of a marble mortar. This was no doubt caused by the rapid revolutions of the ball in burying itself before its force was spent. I noticed this whilst looking at the cavity; and the men who were lying in the tent were of my opinion, and assured me that it kept making a tremendous noise for some time after its fall.”

While we were engaged in conversation I believe that another despatch arrived, for the general and some of his Staff were called out. Observe, reader, that for a full hour the cannon and mortars had not ceased roaring throughout the camps, continually vomiting forth death and destruction on every side; yet every one present, I as well as the rest, appeared quite indifferent to that mournful noise. We were, however, soon awakened by the fierce rattling of the fusillade. All listened attentively, but without moving from their seats. A message from the general and fresh orders caused us to break up the party. I was leaving the house, intending to return to Balaklava, when I met Major Lindsey, one of the aides-de-camp of General Simpson, entering with, I believe, another despatch. He asked me where I was going to sleep: I answered, at Balaklava.

“Oh, nonsense! don’t go away. We are all ordered for half-past three in the morning. A great battle is expected, as the Russians are going to attack us upon a fresh point. I will give you a plank and a blanket in my room to lie upon for an hour or so.”

I accepted his kind offer, and he left me. When I informed my Zouave of the anticipated battle,

“By Jove!” said he, “I hope they will give me a gun and sword to go and fight. I shall make a busy day of it. I smell powder. Pray, governor, do beg of the general to let me go with them.”

The fellow had taken a drop too much, and he went on like a madman--no one could check him. We retired to our hospitable abode, and I went to sleep; but the mad Zouave was anywhere and everywhere. At three o’clock I awoke. The general and his Staff started--the cannonade was going on fiercely, but no fusillade was heard. At seven the general and all returned; and it was, as he said, a false alarm.

My Zouave returned at eight, loaded with provisions, which he told me he had borrowed of some fellows he had found fast asleep. We arrived on board the Baraguay d’Hilliers about ten, faint with fatigue and hunger, having had no breakfast.

Such was camp-life at head-quarters. It was like swimming between life and death. No one seemed to apprehend the least danger, while a successful sortie on the part of the enemy would have placed every one’s life in the greatest peril. So much for the unprofitable business of war!

Having fixed upon a spot for my kitchen, I immediately sent the stoves to the camp. As they happened to be close to the railway, they arrived early the next morning. In the course of the day I reached my field of battle, and to my great surprise found--what? Why, all my battery firing for the support of the Highland Brigade. The stoves had arrived early enough for the men to use them in cooking their dinners. Though I had given special orders that no one should meddle with them until I arrived, it gave me great pleasure to find that the men were using them to the best advantage and without instruction. In the first place, they could not possibly burn more than twenty pounds of wood in cooking for a hundred men, instead of several hundredweight, which was the daily consumption. Although I had not given them my receipts, they found they could cook their rations with more ease, and hoped they should soon have them for every-day use, instead of the small tin camp-kettles, and their open-air system of cooking. The process was very unsatisfactory, being dependent upon good, bad, or indifferent weather, and the fuel was often wet and difficult to ignite. Colonel Seymour, whom I invited to see the men using the stoves without tuition from me or anybody else, can testify to the accuracy of this fact, having witnessed the process and interrogated them upon the subject.

My reason, reader, for relating this circumstance, is because it afforded me an assurance that I could render service to the army, and that my exertions were of some use. I saw even further than that; for I inferred that if a soldier, who is not a cooking animal, being paid for other purposes--and that talent a peculiar gift conferred in a greater or less degree upon humanity--could without trouble or instruction cook well in the open air and in all weathers, the stoves would certainly be useful in all establishments, from a cottage to a college. I do not say anything of their use in hospitals, because they had been tried in those establishments with full success, as far as military cooking was concerned. The idea of connecting baking, roasting, boiling and steaming crossed my mind; and this, I felt with confidence, would render them beneficial and useful to the public at large. This idea I at once communicated to the makers, and they have already acted upon my suggestion. I resolved upon my return to England to bring them out at as cheap a rate as possible for the use of small or large families. A really useful and economical cooking stove is as much wanted in England as sunshine on a November day--a stove by which all the usual domestic cooking can be carried on, without having recourse to bricks and mortar, and chimney-sweeps. Smoky chimneys, as well as other minor nuisances too numerous to mention, would be thus avoided. Twelve pounds of coal, or fifteen pounds of coke, will cook for one hundred men.

“War,” said I to myself, “is the evil genius of a time; but good food for all is a daily and a paramount necessity.” These reflections led to a further communication with Messrs. Smith and Phillips, of Snow-hill. I took out a patent for the stoves. This I did not like to do before I had introduced them to the Government, as every one would have supposed that I wished to make money by the patent. The object of a patent, after such a decided success, was to secure the solidity and perfection of the article. As it was difficult to make, and certain to be badly imitated, my reputation must have suffered. Instead of being expensive, they will be sold at a reasonable price, sufficient to repay the manufacturers, and to leave a fair profit; thus placing them within the reach of all--the million as well as the millionaire.

As the Highlanders had already used the stoves, I changed my plan, and instead of placing them between the Guards’ camp, thought it would be better to have them in the centre of the Highland Brigade, as near as possible to Sir Colin Campbell’s head-quarters, which would enable him to watch the proceedings without trouble. For this purpose, I went to his quarters, and was told that the best time to see him was from eight till nine in the morning at the latest. Next morning I was on my way to the Scotch camp by seven o’clock. I saw Colonel Stirling, Sir Colin’s private secretary, who informed me that Sir Colin would be happy to receive me. My reception by that brave and illustrious general was highly gratifying to my feelings.

“Welcome, Monsieur Soyer!” exclaimed the general, as I entered his tent. He shook me by the hand, with a smile on his face which one could see came from the heart. The fine long beard which then adorned his visage could only be portrayed by a Rembrandt or a Titian. The amiable and fine qualities of that noble-hearted general, so well known to every Englishman, made me feel proud of being so cordially received by one the pride of his country.

“How are you, Monsieur Soyer?”

“Never better, general,” was my answer. “I am happy to see you are enjoying good health.”

“Thank God, I am. Be seated, and tell me what I can do for you.”

“I shall esteem it a great favour, general, if you will allow me to place my new field-stoves in your brigade, instead of on the esplanade. Your men have, unknown to me, commenced cooking with them; and as they already know how to use them, I should prefer leaving them in their hands.”

“Very well, Monsieur Soyer; select the spot, and Colonel Stirling will give you all the assistance you may require.”

“Thank you, general; but I must observe that this is only a trial, and they will be removed so soon as the Commander-in-chief has seen them in use, and decided upon their merits.”

After taking some refreshment, kindly offered by the general, I went to Colonel Stirling, and informed him of the general’s decision. He promised to have everything ready to commence operations the next morning.

The following day I was out very early at the Inkermann heights, with a numerous party, looking towards the Tchernaya Bridge. It was the 16th of August, the day of that memorable battle, which does not require a description on my part. From four till eight that morning I looked on, and saw the retreat of the Russians and the triumph of the French and Sardinians.

On my return, I had the pleasure of riding with Lord Rokeby, who was on his way to his quarters to give some important orders. I had a very interesting conversation with his lordship, who explained the plan of the battle--how it commenced and ended, with the probable loss on both sides. He had been up all night: reinforcements were pouring in from all directions of the Allied camps, with the cavalry, then commanded by General Scarlett, as another attack was expected. Near Lord Rokeby’s quarters we met Colonel Seymour, who gave him a despatch, whereupon the former immediately left us. The colonel rode with me some distance, giving me more details respecting the engagement. He then remarked that I had not called the day before, according to promise. I told him that I had been detained later than I anticipated: I also mentioned my interview with Sir Colin Campbell. He said--

“You have done well, Monsieur Soyer; but of course I shall not be able to do so much for you, as I am in another brigade: however, I will do my utmost.” He then observed, “I believe, though I was introduced to you the other day by General Simpson, you do not recollect me.”

“To be frank with you, colonel, I must acknowledge that your face is very familiar, but I cannot recal where I had the pleasure of seeing you before.”

“You will remember me, when I tell you I have been many times in your kitchen at the Reform Club. Do you recollect me now?”

This explanation not having enlightened me, he continued--

“It was I--then Captain Seymour--who accompanied the Prince of Prussia, the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, the Grand Duke Michael, the Princess Clementina of France, and his Royal Highness Prince Albert, whose aide-de-camp I was for several years.”

It was not until he said this that I recalled the colonel’s face, as he had been completely metamorphosed from the drawing-room dandy to a fierce and war-worn warrior. I was now much delighted to find so firm a supporter of my undertaking. I could not, however, account for the sudden change in his appearance since I had seen him at the Reform Club.

I went to see Colonel Stirling, though not expecting to find him or Sir Colin in the camp, when, by chance, he returned, having important business to transact. Upon seeing me, he said--

“Ah, Monsieur Soyer, you have selected a very glorious day for the commencement of your hostilities; but I regret I shall not be able to assist you, as we do not know how this affair will be decided.”

“You do not for a moment suppose, colonel, that I would intrude upon your valuable time on such an occasion? Having slept in camp, I only called en passant. Good-morning, colonel.”

“Good-day, Soyer. I would advise you to call to-morrow.”

Having given a look at my Highlanders’ cooking, and tasted some coffee which they had prepared for breakfast according to my receipt, I retired, much pleased with their success.

I remained at the camp till nearly three in the afternoon. About one, a long train of mules made their appearance, bearing wounded French and Russian soldiers--the latter prisoners. About twenty were wounded; the rest followed the mournful procession. Assisted by a few of my men, I gave them some wine, brandy, porter, &c.--in fact, whatever we could get at the canteen--which seemed to afford them much relief. I of course treated the wounded Russians in the same manner as the French; though two refused to take anything, fearing poison.

Not doubting that many more would pass, as I had some provisions in a tent for the opening of my kitchens, I made some sago jelly, with wine, calves’-foot jelly, &c., which unfortunately was not used, as the other prisoners went by a different road, though taken to the General Hospital at the French head-quarters. Upon leaving, I ordered my men to be on the look-out, and if any wounded or prisoners came by, to offer them some refreshment.

Just as I was going, I perceived a few mules approaching the Guards’ camp. As they advanced, I and one of my men went towards some of the wounded with a basin of sago in hand, saying, this was a sort of half-way ambulance, where they might obtain all they might require. I was aware that some of the Russian prisoners in the first convoy would not accept any refreshment, for fear of being poisoned, of course not knowing better. The case of two poor French soldiers I cannot pass in silence. One had been severely wounded in the head, and was almost in a state of insensibility; the other had had his leg amputated on the field of battle. The first, after taking a few spoonfuls of the hot sago, asked for a drop of brandy, saying he felt faint. The conductor at first objected to this, but upon my asking him to take a glass with me and the patient, he agreed that it would do him no harm if it did him no good--adding, that very likely he would not survive the day. Having mixed it with water, he drank it, and thanked me warmly. The other was an officer. After giving him some wine-jelly, I conversed with him.

“How good this jelly is!” said he, in French; “pray give me another spoonful or two, if you have it to spare.”

Having done this, he said that he suddenly felt very thirsty. This was, no doubt, owing to the loss of blood. I gave him some lemonade. He drank above a pint, and felt more composed, and proceeded to the hospital, near the English head-quarters. I accompanied him, and he told me that his leg had just been amputated; and, with tears in his eyes, added, in a low voice, “All I regret is, that my military career should have ended so soon. I am but thirty years of age, and have only been two months in the Crimea.”

“My dear friend,” I replied, to cheer him, “many thousands have done less, and died; but you will survive, and be rewarded for your gallant service--you belong to a nation which can appreciate noble devotion.”

“Ah!” said he, “you have done me a deal of good, no matter who you are; if my life is spared, I beg you will let me see or hear from you.”

Though he gave me his name, not having my pocket-book with me, I could not make a note of it. Some time after, I visited the hospital, in company with Dr. Wyatt of the Coldstream Guards. We learnt that the man who had been wounded in the head had died, but that the officer whose leg had been amputated had been sent home to France.

About six in the evening, I and my Zouave visited the field of battle. The sight was indeed a melancholy one. The French and Sardinians were busily engaged burying their dead, as well as those of the enemy, but were compelled to desist several times in consequence of the Russian cannonade from the heights.

Bornet, my Zouave, perceiving that the Russians were firing upon the Allies while burying their dead, got in such a towering passion, that I thought he would have gone alone and taken the Russian batteries. I had great difficulty in getting him home, for, as I have before said, the smell of gunpowder was to him like the scent of a rat to a terrier.

On arriving on board the Baraguay d’Hilliers, we learnt from the captain that he was to take his departure in a few days, at which I was very sorry, not having opened my kitchen, nor being as yet installed in the camp. I applied to the harbour-master, who advised me to choose the Edward; as she was a transport and laden with hospital stores, she was likely to remain longest in harbour.

I was at this time busily engaged pitching my tents in the camp. The opening of my kitchen was delayed in consequence of the troops being on duty at the Tchernaya. This lasted for about ten days, when it was rumoured that Sir Colin Campbell wished to remove his camp to Kamara, in order to be nearer the spot at which it was supposed the expected attack would take place. I therefore pitched my tent on the spot I had at first selected. The day for my opening ceremony was fixed upon by General Simpson; and my friend Colonel Seymour very kindly assisted me in many ways, and even wrote letters of invitation to the colonels and officers of the different regiments. I was anxious for them to give their approval or non-approval of the method. Two days before, Colonel Seymour and myself had settled everything to our satisfaction, and wishing to make a kind of fête champêtre of the opening day, we applied at proper quarters for a band of music, which was granted.

My opening day was the one fixed upon for the distribution of the Order of the Bath. In parting from the colonel, he observed, “Well, Monsieur Soyer, I think we shall make a good thing of this, unless something happens to me in the trenches to-night. I am just going there.”

These words were said in as light-hearted a manner as though he was going to a ball, and passed from my mind as quickly. The gallant colonel was then going perhaps for the hundredth time to his dangerous and uncertain duty.

I returned to Balaklava for the last time previous to taking up my permanent residence at the camp. I had settled all to my entire satisfaction. With Sir George Maclean, the Commissary-General, I had arranged respecting the quantity of rations required for a certain number of men; with Mr. Fitzgerald, the Deputy Purveyor-in-chief, for the fresh meat; and with the butcher for a supply of four ox-heads and six ox-feet, out of the number he daily buried. I placed all my people in their different stations according to merit and qualification. I obtained from Major Mackenzie, through the kindness of Sir Thomas Eyre, the Ordnance Master, some wood and four carpenters to put up some tables and a few benches, and ordered from Messrs. Crockford, at Donnybrook, a certain quantity of wines and refreshments worthy of the illustrious guests I was about to receive.

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XXVIII. MY GREAT FIELD DAY

Invitations--Colonel Seymour’s kindness--He is wounded--Visit to the disabled officer--Desertions--Tents pitched at last--A gay scene--Bill of fare--My reception commences--The new stoves--Process of tasting--The fair sex--Arrival of the Allied generals and their staff--A luncheon al fresco--General Barnard’s bon-mot--Inspection of the stoves--Influx of visitors--Letters from the Allied commanders--Interview with Sir Edmund Lyons--Meeting of generals--Plans discussed--Various messes--Colonel Handcock and his lady--A sad change--An experiment--Colonel Daniell’s letter--A regimental kitchen.

My gallant master of the ceremonies, Colonel Seymour, had kindly taken the most important part of my duty off my hands, by inviting all the heads of the military and medical authorities, with a great number of whom, in consequence of my short stay in the Crimea, I was not yet, or, at least, only partially acquainted. I had now removed to the Edward, and also left her, but still kept, if not a pied à terre (as we say in French), at least a pied sur mer, for myself and people, in case I should require to go to Balaklava and stay there for the night.

This was on the 26th of August, 1855--the 27th was to be the opening day. All my people had left for the camp, with arms and baggage. I was certain of success and without the slightest anxiety. On arriving at my field of operations, I learnt, to my deep sorrow, that my right hand, Colonel Seymour, had, during the night, been dangerously wounded in the trenches. I immediately went to his quarters to ascertain the nature of his wound. His servant told me, that for the present no one could tell; he had been struck by the splinter of a shell at the back of the neck, and lost a great deal of blood. The doctor then came out and informed me that the wound was not so bad as had been at first anticipated. His servant announced me, and although very weak, the colonel begged I would enter his tent. He was lying upon the ground upon a blanket, covered with another, and his military cloak over that. His head was bandaged with a turban of white linen stained with blood. His first words were, “Monsieur Soyer, you see what has happened at last. I much regret it, as I shall not be able to perform my promise to you respecting your opening.”

“Never mind, colonel; don’t let us talk about that subject now, but about yourself.”

“Well,” he replied, “the doctor has just been, and says that the wound is not mortal, nor even so dangerous as he at first anticipated.”

“Colonel, you want repose, so I will retire.”

“There is no occasion for that, Monsieur Soyer; I feel strong again. When I was struck, I did not feel the wound, and fell immediately, remaining for some time insensible, the wound, as the doctor says, having acted upon the brain.”

“Don’t exert yourself, my dear colonel, by talking. Thank God it is no worse. I will go and send you some lemonade. I have asked the doctor what was best for you, and am happy to say I have some ice.”

“Many thanks for your kind attention, Monsieur Soyer.”

I then retired. Upon reaching my kitchen, I found that no one had yet arrived. The four carpenters had left me in the lurch, having run away in the night, and abandoned their work, after stealing all they could from the tents. Mr. Doyne, the chief of the Army Works Corps, kindly supplied me with workmen, and offered to lend me, for a few days, as many tents as I required. As the weather was then intensely hot, I accepted his offer, and requested the loan of a large marquee, under which a couple of hundred people could stand. Captain Gordon lent me two smaller ones, and by the evening they were pitched, and my provisions had all arrived, and my people were at their posts. I much regretted that many persons of distinction were not invited, in consequence of the unfortunate accident to Colonel Seymour, which happened before he had sent out all the invitations. At all events, the day, though fixed at hazard, turned out extremely well adapted for the reception of a large party.

Early in the morning the camp seemed full of life and gaiety. Mounted officers in full uniform might be seen rushing about in all directions; bands were playing, regiments filing past, and everything bearing the appearance of a great festival. I set cheerfully to work, and, in spite of difficulties which can only be understood by those who have been in the Crimea, I succeeded in getting all in tolerably good order for my great martial banquet al fresco. I made several messes with the soldiers’ rations, and at the same expense, though I had introduced sauce and ingredients which could easily be added to the army stores without increasing the cost, thus making a nice variation in the meals, so important to the health of a large body of men like the army or navy, to the latter of which it is as easily applicable as the former.

The bill of fare consisted of plain boiled salt beef; ditto, with dumplings; plain boiled salt pork; ditto, with peas-pudding; stewed salt pork and beef, with rice; French pot-au-feu; stewed fresh beef, with potatoes; mutton, ditto, with haricot beans; ox-cheek and ox-feet soups; Scotch mutton-broth; common curry, made with fresh and salt beef. (See receipts in Addenda.)

By three o’clock my guests began to arrive. The stoves were in the open air, placed in a semicircle, and, though in a state of ebullition, no one could perceive that any cooking was going on, except on raising the lids. A material point I had in view was that no fire should be seen when used in the trenches. A common table, made of a few boards, and garnished with soldiers’ tin plates, iron forks and spoons, composed my open-air dining-room.

About four o’clock my reception commenced. Lord Rokeby, accompanied by several French officers in full dress, was the first to honour me with a visit. This gave me an opportunity of fully explaining to him and his friends the plan and construction of the apparatus, as well as its simplicity, cleanliness, and great economy in the consumption of fuel. At the same time, I showed with what ease and certainty the men could regulate the heat and prepare the new receipts--which will be found at the end of this work.

I must also observe, for the information of those who only saw them upon that occasion, that the stoves, having been made for the General Hospital, were too large and heavy for campaigning. That I might lose no time in making my trial before the authorities, I used them upon that occasion, as the process was the same as regards cooking in those as in the smaller ones. The sole difference was in the size, as it was understood that two would cook for a company of one hundred and twenty men, and might be carried by one mule while on march, with sufficient dry wood inside for the next day’s cooking. This was of the utmost importance, in order to ensure the regularity of the soldier’s meal, which ought always to be ready at the minute fixed by the rules of the service.

Thus I had surmounted every difficulty by the invention of this apparatus. In addition to its simplicity and economy, it had the merit of making cooks of soldiers, of which they had previously neither the inclination nor the chance. Smaller stoves on the same principle were also to be provided for picket and outpost duty, as first suggested to me by Lord Raglan. After giving the foregoing information to my illustrious visitors, we passed to the grand process of tasting the various messes. They all gave perfect satisfaction.

By this time several hundred visitors had made their appearance, and gay and animated was the scene. All present were in the same costume as that in which they appeared at the grand chivalric ceremony which had taken place at head-quarters--the installation of the Order of the Bath. I was also highly favoured, I may say, by the presence of a charming group of the fair sex, about ten in number, escorted by their cavaliers. After taking some refreshment under the monster tent, they came to add their charms to the martial banquet, and taste with gusto the rough food of the brave. I had nothing out of doors to offer their delicate palates but the soldiers’ rations, transmogrified in various ways. My task now became extremely difficult. The crowd was so great, that my batteries were quite taken by storm (de cuisine, of course). Refreshments of all kinds were distributed pretty freely throughout the day. The band in attendance was ordered to play, and struck up “Partant pour la Syrie.” All were immediately on the qui vive, when Captain Colville galloped up to me, and said--

“General Simpson has sent me to inform you that General Pelissier and himself will be here in a few minutes.”

A gorgeous cavalcade was soon seen in the distance. It consisted of the Allied Generals and Staff, and a numerous suite. General Pelissier alighted from his carriage, and joined General Simpson. I went and met the distinguished visitors, who had come from head-quarters after the ceremony of the distribution of the Order of the Bath by Lord Stratford de Redcliffe.

Upon the arrival of the generals, the band continued playing “Partant pour la Syrie.” The cannon of Sebastopol appeared to redouble its roar--so much so, that General Pelissier, with a smile, called General Simpson’s attention to the fact: added to which, the hundreds of uniforms, cocked hats and feathers--French, English, and Sardinian--gave full effect to the lively scene.

In course of conversation, General Simpson said, “Monsieur Soyer,--Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, in reply to your letter, sends his compliments, and regrets he shall not be able to attend your opening, as he must be on board the Caradoc, now lying in Kamiesch Bay, by five o’clock, on his way to Constantinople.”

I thanked General Simpson for his kindness in troubling himself about the message, and the review of my culinary camp, which upon this occasion was rather extensive, commenced. It comprised four bell-tents, one marquee, and a large square tent, capable of holding more than two hundred persons. A luncheon al fresco was served in the camp, and four of my cooks attended upon the guests. The tops of the tents were surmounted with flags and garlands of evergreens composed of vine-leaves; the same were also attached to the posts which supported the rope forming the limits of the enclosure, giving to the whole a martial and lively appearance. The weather was so fine that every one preferred remaining in the open air.

Generals Pelissier and Simpson proceeded to taste the various articles of food. The pot-au-feu, or beef-soup, was prepared partly from ox-heads, which were usually buried, instead of being used as food for the soldiers, no doubt in consequence of the difficulty of cleaning them.

General Pelissier tasted several samples of the pot-au-feu, and, addressing General Barnard, declared that he felt as interested in this unexpected exhibition as in the ceremony of the morning. The witty General Barnard replied, “Your excellency must agree with me that this day has been remarkably well spent: we devoted the morning to the cordon rouge, and the afternoon to the cordon bleu.” General Pelissier much enjoyed the bon-mot, and repeated it to the officers of his Staff, thus creating great hilarity amongst them.

I requested many of my visitors to taste the different preparations, and, much to my satisfaction, I believe almost all of them did so, and expressed their approbation of them. After pointing out the merits of the stoves to the Commanders-in-chief, I conducted them to the spot where the Scotch Division formerly cooked their rations in the old tin camp-kettles. On our way, I observed to General Pelissier that I had visited the French camp-kitchens, and found their marmites superior to the English. The soup made by the French soldiers, I said, was very good. At this the General seemed much pleased.

The space required for three or four regiments extended about three hundred and fifty feet in length. A rough wall of loose stones had been erected by the men to form a screen, which when the regiment moved was, of course, left behind. The furnaces were also constructed of loose stones, held together by iron hoops; upon these the tin cans were placed and the rations cooked. By this plan an immense quantity of wood was inevitably wasted, and the fires were sometimes extinguished by the heavy rains. My stoves completely obviated all those previously insurmountable difficulties.

Having listened to this explanation, the Commanders-in-chief admitted the beneficial results and advantages of the stoves. However, General Simpson observed, that I, of course, applied the contrast to my advantage; but also said, it was nothing but fair, and I was perfectly justified in so doing. In the first place, my stoves occupied but little room, and cooked much better than those formerly in use. The Generals were so much pleased with them, that before leaving the camp they wrote the annexed letters in my album. The same evening I received one from the War-office, relative to my success in the hospitals at Scutari, which I also append.

The Allied Generals remained with me above an hour. This gave me an excellent opportunity of conversing with General Pelissier, who minutely described camp life in Algeria, after which the General and Staff retired. As it was then nearly seven o’clock, a great number of officers followed. No less than eight hundred or a thousand persons of distinction visited the kitchens during the day: many were not invited, in consequence of the unfortunate accident to Colonel Seymour. About nine all was over, and the band played “God save the Queen.”

Nothing could have succeeded better than this opening, a drawing of which appeared in the Illustrated News of September 22nd, 1855.

General Pelissier’s Letter.

J’ai eu le plaisir, le vingt-sept Août, 1855, de visiter l’établissement culinaire de Monsieur Soyer, et j’ai été bien satisfait de ce que j’y ai vu; j’ai été frappé surtout de l’économie de temps et de chauffage apporté dans l’alimentation des troupes. Les chaudières paraissent bien entendues; j’ai tout goûté, et à tout, je le reconnais, j’ai trouvé un goût excellent et très-appétissant.

GENERAL A. PELISSIER.

General Simpson’s Letter.

CAMP BEFORE SEBASTOPOL, 31st August, 1855.

I had much pleasure in visiting Monsieur Soyer’s field-kitchen last Monday, the 27th instant. I there saw several excellent soups made from ration meat, compressed vegetables, and other things within reach of the soldier’s means, and cooked with very little fuel. I consider Monsieur Soyer is taking great pains in devoting his time and great talents to the good of our military service, especially in the field, and I wish him every possible success and honourable reward.

JAMES SIMPSON, General Commanding.

WAR-OFFICE, 6th August, 1855.

SIR,--I am directed to acknowledge the receipt, on the 2nd ultimo, of your report upon the culinary department of the hospitals in the East; and, in returning the thanks of the Secretary-at-War, to acquaint you, that he recognises, with the greatest satisfaction, the exertions you have made and are still making for the benefit of the army in the field, and also of the sick and wounded in the several hospitals.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant, FRED. J. PRESCOTT.

M. Soyer, Scutari.

About the 5th of September, I was at head-quarters, when who should walk in but Sir Edmund Lyons! I had not had the pleasure of seeing him before, and I took this opportunity of introducing myself, and informing the Commander of the British Fleet in the Black Sea, that I was very anxious to pay my respectful compliments to him.

Upon this, Sir Edmund Lyons, with the kindest feeling, at once offered me his hand, saying, “Monsieur Soyer, I assure you I am delighted to make your acquaintance. You are doing much good for our brave soldiers; but you must not forget our worthy sailors. Come and see us on board the Albert; you will be well received and quite welcome. I have heard much about your field-kitchens, and it was only the other day I was reading a very important complimentary letter which General Pelissier had written in their favour.”

“He did me that honour, admiral, and he seemed highly gratified.”

“I can assure you he was, Monsieur Soyer, for I heard him say so.”

A few days after the grand opening ceremony, a meeting took place, by order of the Minister-at-War and General Simpson, to consider the possibility of supplying a pint of hot soup to the men in the trenches during the winter. The meeting was held at Lord Rokeby’s head-quarters, on the 3rd or 4th of September. I was ordered to be present. On my way there I had the pleasure of meeting General Barnard, who in his humorous manner addressed me thus:--

“Hallo, General Soyer! I’m not so much behind as I thought; for you are only just going to the general meeting, or the meeting of generals.”

“You are right, general,” I replied. “Thank you for the noble title you have bestowed upon me, and at the seat of war too.”

“The fact is, I understood the meeting was to be held at head-quarters, and went half-way there, when I met some officers who told me it was to be at Lord Rokeby’s. But they cannot proceed without you, general. Never mind, Soyer, we are only a few minutes behind time.”

When we arrived, the Board was sitting. Sir Colin Campbell had sent a message, stating that some important duties would prevent his attendance. The proceedings then commenced, and the order was read by General Bentinck; which, as far as I can recollect, was worded thus:--

Lord Panmure, the Minister-at-War, anxious for the comfort of the troops in the Crimea, is desirous that, if possible, every man in the trenches should be supplied with a basin of hot soup during the winter nights; the allowance of rum to be, in consequence, either diminished or entirely withheld. His lordship believing Monsieur Soyer to be still in the Crimea, requests the Board to inquire of him if such would be practicable.

I at once replied that it could be done, and without difficulty, for any number of men, by the application of my field-stoves. This answer met with the general approbation of the assembled Board. I next remarked that the stoves might be placed in the trenches, even in front of the enemy, as not a spark of fire could be seen either by day or night while they were in use. This point having been satisfactorily settled, the question of taking away or reducing the quantity of rum was seriously debated. General Eyre was of opinion that the men would not like to part with any portion of their rum. Generals Bentinck, Rokeby, &c., were in favour of giving the soup as an addition, and allowing the rum to be issued as usual. It struck me that by giving only half a gill of rum the other half would almost entirely cover the expense of the soup, if economically managed. I also proposed another plan, which was to give less rum and less than a pint of soup, which was discussed.

When the inquiry was over, I said--“Gentlemen, I shall feel obliged if you will favour me with a visit to my field kitchen. I have made several experiments in diets for you to taste, and if you approve of them, have no doubt, when you know the cost, you will be able to settle the question of supplying soup in the trenches with more certainty.”

All present agreed, excepting General Eyre, who was of opinion that what he as a soldier had for so many years found answer for the men, would answer now; nor did he see why the soldiers should live better than himself. “I should be very happy,” said he, “to improve the daily food of the troops, but do not like anything to be overdone. I like judicious discipline in all things.”

Though I must frankly admit I was anything but enchanted with the general’s way of thinking at first, I could not but admire the latter part of his argument, which was as sincere as it was severe.

Several debates took place upon the subject, and, after a little persuasion, I induced them all to come, and taste the samples I had prepared for their inspection. I proudly led my very select cavalcade towards my batteries, which upon that occasion were in charge of the troops. I had only given the written receipts for them to act upon, and charged a sergeant to watch over them, and see that the proportions in the receipts were properly attended to. An infallible plan of ensuring success at all times is to appoint a man of superior grade as overlooker. One to each regiment would be sufficient.

Upon our arrival we found everything in perfect order: the stoves were clean, the contents properly cooked, and the consumption of fuel four hundred per cent. less than in the usual way. Only five different messes were prepared upon this occasion--viz., ox-head soup, stewed fresh beef, Scotch hodge-podge of mutton, salt pork and beef with dumplings. Everything was done to perfection. After carefully explaining the process to Generals Eyre and Bentinck, who were not present on the great opening day, we sat down to test the quality of the articles. A sumptuous lunch was displayed from the soldiers’ rations--always excepting the ox heads, which I had obtained from the butcher, as usual, on the eve of their funeral. With these I made an excellent pot au feu, enough for fifty men. Lord Rokeby was so highly delighted with it, that he recommended it to all, and requested me to give this receipt, as well as that for stewed beef, to his cook--for which see Addenda.

A goblet of Marsala wine, with a lump of ice, terminated this martial collation under a burning sun, and amid the everlasting roar of the bombardment of the besieged city. The guests retired, quite satisfied. Even General Eyre, though still adhering to his opinion that it was too good for soldiers, and would make them lazy, said, “Soldiers do not require such good messes as those while campaigning.” At which remark the gentlemen present could not refrain from laughing.

“Well, general,” said I, “your plan has been tried, and, as you perceive, has not answered. I was therefore obliged to introduce a simpler style, by which soldiers might cook with pleasure and less difficulty, and, having once learnt, always will cook properly, and with less trouble. You must also observe, general, that it is with the same rations as before. And is it not better to make a few good cooks out of an army than to have an army of bad cooks?”

By this time the general was on his charger. He said, “We are both right. For my part, I mean what I say: you will improve the cook, but spoil the soldier.”

I then thanked them for their gracious condescension, and they started for their several divisions, promising to let me know their final decision.

Amongst the military authorities who visited me that day were General Scarlett and Staff, Colonel St. George, Colonel Handcock and lady, a very charming person, and extremely merry. She observed, when I presented her with some champagne and ice in a large tin goblet, as she sat upon her horse, “Upon my word, Monsieur Soyer, champagne is better in tin cups in the Crimea than in crystal goblets in England.”

“I am glad you like it, madam. Shall I offer you another?”

“No, I thank you.”

“Madam would like to taste some of the men’s rations,” said Colonel Handcock.

“Would you, madam?”

“Many thanks, Monsieur Soyer. I think not, after the champagne.”

After paying a visit to my abode, my guests departed.

A few days afterwards, I heard that that poor creature was plunged in the deepest sorrow. Upon making a chance visit, I could not believe her to be the same person; the bloom of life appeared to have suddenly deserted her laughing cheeks, which wore a cadaverous hue. Such was the effect sorrow soon produced on the appearance of one usually so animated and full of mirth. (See page 368.)

As I noticed that the men daily threw the fat away from their salt beef and pork, the last of which is of first-rate quality, I proposed to Colonel Daniell, of the Coldstream Guards, to make his men cook for his regiment, which was agreed upon. He always took great interest in the welfare of his soldiers and in my culinary proceedings, and I had the honour of being acquainted with him for some years as a subscriber to benevolent institutions, and in particular to soup-kitchens for the poor. The next day the rations were brought in; the salt beef and pork were cooked, and a few dumplings added, as an innovation. The wood was weighed, and twenty-seven pounds were sufficient to cook the rations for the whole regiment. The meat was done to perfection, and without trouble. I begged that the sixteen cooks daily employed for the regiment might be present. Two would have done, or even one, as the water and provisions were brought by a fatigue party, therefore fifteen men might have been spared; and only forty-seven pounds of wood were used, instead of one thousand seven hundred and sixty. When the meat was cooked, we skimmed off forty-two pounds of fat as white as snow, and not black, as was the case when cooked in the small canteen-pans with little water. This spoilt the fat, which might be used in lieu of butter on bread or biscuit. To do this properly, soak the biscuits in water for about ten minutes; take them out, let them dry a little; put some fat in the pan; when hot, fry them as you would a piece of bacon: a few minutes will do them. When crisp, season with salt and pepper, if handy. They make an excellent article of food.

For this saving and improvement, Colonel Daniell, whom I will back for discipline and straightforwardness of opinion against any one in the army, gave me the following letter:--

COLDSTREAM GUARDS’ CAMP, BEFORE SEBASTOPOL,

Sept., 1855.

I have this day attended Monsieur Soyer’s course of instruction to the cooks of my battalion, and have tasted the messes cooked and served to the men, consisting of salt pork and beef. The mode in which the salt is extracted and the meat rendered comparatively tender by the apparatus used, the facility with which the grease is taken off and rendered serviceable for other purposes, is admirable; and I consider the arrangements relative to the small consumption of wood, and the simplicity with which the cooking is conducted, will, if adopted, tend much to the health, comfort, and well-being of the soldier.

The present size of the “chaudrières” being objectionable, I am glad to hear from Monsieur Soyer that he is about to procure some of a less size. The fuel consumed to-day for cooking the messes of eight companies was hardly more than on ordinary occasions is consumed by one company; and from four hundred and twenty rations of salt pork and beef, forty-eight pounds of excellent lard was procured, which usually is wasted. These facts alone render Monsieur Soyer’s plan at once economical and desirable, and I have great pleasure in testifying my appreciation of the manner with which he conveys instruction to the men, in saying how highly I approve of his recipes and arrangements for carrying out his scheme of camp cookery.

(Signed) H. J. DANIELL, _Col. and Capt. in Command, First Battalion Coldstream Guards_.

The regiments being at that time greatly reduced, were only 428 strong, therefore the weight of meat, at one pound per man, was 428 pounds, from which 42 pounds of excellent fat were obtained, much preferable for cooking purposes to the rancid butter sold in the canteens at a very high price. As I was anxious to form a perfect regimental kitchen, I proposed to Colonel Daniell to fit up one for his regiment. His men were already well acquainted with the use of the field stoves; and it would serve as a model for all. Colonel Daniell agreed, and in less than an hour the stoves were removed to the camp, where they remained by sanction of the General-in-Chief till the end of the war.

At this time I went to head-quarters, and urged the necessity of telegraphing an order for four hundred small field-stoves, which order had been agreed upon in case my plan succeeded and was adopted by the authorities. I also had several interviews with General Airey, upon the subject. This number was sufficient for the supply of the whole of the army then in the Crimea. As there was so much business at head-quarters in consequence of the anticipated attack upon Sebastopol, the order was postponed for a few days.

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XXIX. THE EIGHTH OF SEPTEMBER

Trip to Kamiesch--Bornet’s love for war--Dangerous quarters--Arrival at Kamiesch--Town of pasteboard--The 8th of September--Orders for the assault--Carousals--Looking on--Stopped by the sentinels--Get by at last--The batteries open fire--The French flag on the Malakhoff--Wounded men--The officer’s wife--Naval officers trying to dodge the sentries--Become my guests--Reports respecting General Wyndham--Cathcart’s Hill--The Duke of Newcastle--Dine with General Wyndham on the day of the attack upon Sebastopol--Sir John Campbell and the French cook--An excellent dinner--Rare autographs--General Wyndham summoned to head-quarters.

Early on the 3rd of September we started for Kamiesch; but, as usual, Bornet could not forget his old trade, and love for his fellow-soldiers. “Governor,” said he, “the 3rd Zouaves who were on duty in the trenches last night are on their return to camp. It is eight o’clock, and if we take this ravine we shall meet some of them, and learn what is going on.”

Having the whole day before us, I consented to go; we took the road called the French Ravine, which led from the French head-quarters to the trenches before Sebastopol. The returning Zouaves we met, but the cannon balls also met us. Being in the ravine, we were not in great danger, as they passed over our heads and fell on our left side. The principal danger was when they struck a large stone, causing it to roll down the side of the ravine, sometimes at a terrific rate.

The shells were far more objectionable; but, thanks to Providence, none hit us. While retreating, Bornet said, “By a thousand bombs, governor, it must be a fresh battery they are firing from: we always used to go this way to the trenches.”

“Well,” said I, “new or old, let us get out of it.”

Putting our horses to a gallop, we were soon out of danger, and on the road to Kamiesch. Near the French head-quarters we met two Zouaves. They told us the French trenches were now within twenty yards of the Malakhoff tower. “The cannon,” they said, “project about twenty feet over our heads, and cannot touch us; but the grenades, which the Russians throw among us by hundreds, cause the loss of many men, though we extinguish a great number when they fall.”

Bornet now proposed the vin blanc, but to his regret and my delight, they refused, or we should probably not have seen Kamiesch that day. In many instances I have known French soldiers refuse.

At length we arrived at Kamiesch, which I had so long seen from my quarters, but could not reach before, owing to the engrossing nature of my occupations. This French town of pasteboard, or light wood, was so different from Balaklava, that I cannot give my readers a better idea of it than by stating that it bears the same resemblance to Balaklava that Ramsgate does to Boulogne in the height of the season. The traffic, business, markets, restaurants, cafés, billiard-rooms, theatre, &c., display the difference of character between the French and English, as forcibly as Balaklava does the English from the French.

It was really remarkable to see the type of two great nations, such near neighbours, on the same foreign soil, so far from their native homes, so distinctly preserved, while the people agreed so well together. Some of the restaurants were pretty good, very expensive, not very clean, but always full. Money seemed of no consequence, as every one tried to get it out of you if you were rash enough to eat, drink, or purchase anything.

The sea-port was very fine; Kamiesch, flat, sandy, and unpicturesque. Balaklava was a perfect garden; Kamiesch a well populated desert.

The evening of the 7th of September was a memorable one. Each mind was animated; men of the most pacific disposition were transformed into lions or tigers, furiously seeking to devour their prey.

Amidst the most terrible discharges of cannon, the order for the general attack was announced to the troops for the following day. The news acted like an electric spark, and inspired all hearts. Each soldier appeared to breathe more freely; hope, the enchantress, filled the hearts of the brave with enthusiasm; fear was unknown; all faces were radiant with lust of glory and vengeance.

Having heard that the attack was to take place, at midday I visited the French camp with my Zouave, where we found the same animation and excitement. One of the soldiers said to my Zouave:

“By all the camels in Arabia, Bornet, are you coming to join in the dance? If you are, I invite you for the first quadrille; but you must play the clarionet (slang term for gun). Here’s a chance of having your portrait spoiled--it just suits me.”

“What do you think of it, governor--shall I go?”

“It is impossible, my dear fellow, for me to oblige you upon this occasion, as your services will be more useful to-morrow, when no doubt, whichever way the victory may turn, the hospitals will be full. Therefore I hope you will forgive me for saving your life against your will. I am sure, if you had a chance, you would be the first to mount the breach, and consequently the first to be knocked over.”

His late comrades in arms did not see the force of this. They knew he had some money, and did not like to part with him. The idea struck me to order a few bottles of wine at the canteen near their tents, in return for their hospitality in offering us their ration rum and brandy. About five-and-twenty more joined us when I gave the invitation. I knew that Bornet had only a few shillings in his pocket, which shillings, by-the-bye, were very liberally taken by the vivandière as a great favour, at the value of a French franc. After several farewells we parted.

The morning of the 8th of September, 1855, arrived. Aurora smiled gaily upon the far-famed city, the sentinels on all sides were at their posts, and in the Russian camp no doubt the watchword circulated as usual. It was thus in the allied camps, but pronounced quicker; the step of the relief guard was that of quick march, every nerve was in action, and strained to the utmost. The scene at the race for the Derby alone could give the reader an idea of the sudden energy which filled every bosom, on hearing that the attack was to take place, with this difference, that life seemed of less consequence to every one in the Crimea than the loss of money on that terrible day of chance. All had a share in the lottery. Glory was to turn the wheel of fortune, and every one seemed sure of winning. All hoped to gather laurels from the arid soil so long moistened with blood.

At four o’clock we were all up; about five the Guards were on their march towards the besieged city; troops from all quarters were silently marching in the same direction; every heart was beating high; the day had at last arrived which was to decide a great question. At seven all were at their post. Bornet and myself started on horseback directly, after seeing the Scots Fusiliers pass through the Guards’ camp, close to our tents. On catching sight of them, my Zouave exclaimed, “What a splendid regiment, gouverneur, que ces Montagnards Ecossais! I have a great mind to follow them: I shall, too!”

“I am sure you sha’n’t,” said I, clutching him by the coat collar.

After making a long détour, a sentinel let us pass. As we were nearer the Woronzoff Road than the Cathcart Hill Cemetery, we went in that direction, and took up our position to witness the grand spectacle. For some time a profound silence reigned amongst the troops, who seemed as though they were buried in the trenches. The weather, which had been fine the preceding days, and even till sunrise on that eventful morning, suddenly changed. In a short time the elements assumed a threatening aspect, and a furious tempest raged in every direction. A clouded sky had replaced the azure blue, the fierce gusts of wind raised thick clouds of dust, which rolled majestically towards us like a moving castle, blinding every one for a time. The cold air chilled everybody, and was so violent that one could scarcely keep one’s saddle, or see twenty yards in advance. Showers of hail burst here and there over the now excited and infuriated camp and Sebastopol; the scene of action was almost invisible. It appeared as though the evil genius of the storm had on that glorious day attached his seal of destruction to that desecrated spot. Even the sun (l’ami Soleil), the world’s friend, seemed to fear to face this scene of horror and desolation, and while smiling upon the remainder of the mighty globe, had, in appearance, withdrawn from the harrowed city of Sebastopol.

Suddenly the batteries opened fire in every direction, shaking the very soil on which we stood. Clouds of smoke enveloped the besieged city. Not a thing could be seen or heard but a continuous rolling noise similar to that of an earthquake. All at once the noise ceased, and the rattle of musketry was heard, with, at intervals, cannon and mortar shot. By degrees, thanks to the heavy gale, the atmosphere got clearer, and by the aid of a telescope one could distinctly see the French flag floating from the Malakhoff, and the troops mounting to the assault. An hour had scarcely elapsed when the news was brought of the capture of the Malakhoff by the French, and of the Redan by the English. Aides-de-camp were flying in every direction; and numbers of wounded were on their way to the hospitals. We quitted our post to go to the General Hospital, in order to see whether our services were required. As we were crossing the English camp, a corpse was borne past us, carried by four soldiers. Upon inquiry I learned, with sorrow, that it was the body of Colonel H. R. Handcock, whom, a few days before, I had had the pleasure of entertaining at my kitchens, with his young and very interesting wife.

The latter had been an eye-witness of the assault, and I was informed that, by the greatest imprudence, the mutilated body of her husband had just been uncovered before her. She fainted at the sight, and was borne to her residence, where she lay for some time dangerously ill. This will account for the sudden alteration in her appearance before mentioned.

The fight still raged, the weather was a little calmer, and we left the field of battle, intending to gallop at once to the hospital. On reaching the line of sentries, we met two naval officers who were trying to pass, in order to obtain a view of the action from Cathcart’s Hill. They were having a rather warm discussion, the sentry doing his duty by stopping them. I pulled up my horse, and told them that unless they had an order from head-quarters they could not pass. Though much vexed, they thanked me, and submitted to the disappointment. I was about leaving them, when I heard one say to the other--

“What shall we do? I would give any money for a glass of wine or a cup of coffee.”

“So would I,” said the other. “Where is there a Canteen, sentry?”

“It would be of no use my telling you,” the sentry replied, “as they are all closed during the siege, or at least for to-day, in order to prevent men left in the camp from quitting their post. Several robberies were perpetrated in camp upon former occasions.”

I overheard their conversation, in which they stated that they had started without breakfast, and been a long way round--nearly seven miles among the hills--and had seen nothing after all, as the pickets would not let them pass the line of Balaklava.

“Gentlemen,” said I, “if you will come with me to my tent, I think I can keep you from starving, and have no doubt you will fare there as well, if not better, than in a Canteen. I can also give you a description of the siege, having been an eyewitness of the same.”

They thanked me, and accepted my offer. On our way to quarters, I recounted the melancholy death of Colonel Handcock. My Zouave had by this time arrived--no one but the groom was at home, and he could speak neither French nor English, being a Greek--so I set my Zouave to lay the table; and with my magic stove I cooked some ration-mutton, made an omelette, brought out a piece of cold beef, bread, &c., and gave them a bottle of ale and a glass of sherry. In twenty minutes their hunger was appeased, and I told them they were welcome to stay, but that I must proceed to my duty. At the same time I informed them, that at six o’clock dinner would be ready, and they were welcome to partake of it if they happened to be about the camp; but that they were on no account to wait for me in case I did not return, as I did not know what I might have to do in the hospitals. They thanked me for my hospitality, and said they would try and see something of the battle, and if anywhere about my quarters, would be too happy to return to dinner.

We then parted; they proceeding towards Sebastopol, and I to the hospital. On my arrival I found, to my surprise, that not one wounded man had been brought in. After waiting some time I saw Dr. Mouatt, and inquired if anything extra was wanted; his reply was, “We have all that is needed for their reception.”

I then went to the purveyor, and to the kitchen; but fearing, as the battle was raging fiercely, the number of wounded might exceed the means at their disposal, I remained about the hospitals. I did this in case my services might be required, as I was well aware of the importance of speedy relief to the sufferers.

Towards evening the wounded began to arrive, though not in great numbers. I left my Zouave there and returned to the camp, telling him if anything was required, to ride home at once and inform me, as the doctors would be so much engaged--and in particular Dr. Mouatt, who would most probably not be able to devote his time to the culinary department. As I rode towards Sebastopol, to have another look at the battle, I met only a few wounded. Upon inquiring of the orderlies in charge whether there were many more, they replied that they could not say, but they believed that there were a great number. I then returned to my tent, and a few minutes afterwards my naval friends arrived. The dinner was served up, and they told me that they had had a good view of the besieged city from the French lines. In the course of conversation, they informed me that Colonel (now General) Wyndham had invited them to dinner that day. I replied, “I am very anxious about him, as he led the storming party in the Redan, and I have heard the attack has been very severe, and many were killed and wounded on both sides.” I also heard that it had been retaken by the Russians, and feared he might have been taken prisoner, if not wounded or killed.

When dinner was over, I proposed to pass them through the lines and make inquiry about him. We proceeded to Cathcart’s Hill--it was then nearly dusk--I on horseback, they on foot. The camp around us was as still and deserted as in the morning; scarcely any one was to be seen till we reached the lines. Very few shots were heard, but every one was at his post. Upon reaching Cathcart’s Hill, I alighted to speak with his Grace the Duke of Newcastle, who had been in the trenches all day and had just returned. He was kind enough to give me the details of the attacks on both sides, and said that he was waiting for General Bentinck, who had not yet been seen, and that he hoped nothing had happened to him. I observed, “This is a most anxious hour for all who have friends engaged in so serious and dangerous an encounter.”

While conversing with the Duke, I missed my two companions. Thinking they knew the position of Colonel Wyndham’s quarters, I went there expecting to find them. My first and most anxious inquiry of the servant, who knew me well, was, “What news of the Colonel?”

“Oh, all right, Monsieur Soyer,” he replied with great satisfaction. “If you wish to see him, he is gone to Colonel Wood’s tent--you know where it is.”

“No I don’t.”

“Then I’ll show you--he will be glad to see you.”

“I will not trouble you, as I would not disturb him on such a day for the world. I am glad to hear he is safe; but have you seen two gentlemen?”

“No one excepting yourself, sir. You must come with me; my master is alone, waiting for the Colonel, and I’m sure they will both be happy to see you.”

Colonel Wyndham had just changed his clothes before going to the Colonel’s to dine. His servant showed them to me; they were covered with blood and dust. I followed him to Colonel Wood’s hut, and found Colonel Wyndham walking quickly to and fro in the hut, apparently much preoccupied and excited. His eyes emitted flashes of fire, his open countenance had assumed its usual majestic calm and dignity, his lips were parched, his proud brow betokened much restlessness, and though his forehead was covered with glory, you could perceive through the wreath of laurel which had only a few hours before been deposited there by Mars, a deep shadow of thoughtfulness and care. His physiognomy told a tale. Victory had of him made a great hero, without having had time to put her final seal to his martial and petulant ardour. Another battle was yet to be fought.

Seeing me, he came forward and shook me by the hand, inviting me to enter. We were together about half-an-hour, and he related to me the great events of the attack upon the Redan, now so well known to the public. Colonel Wood came in, also free from wounds, to the delight of all, and invited me to dine with them. I told him that I had already dined, but could not refuse the honour upon so memorable an occasion.

We then sat down to dinner. François,[20] the Colonel’s French cook, with whose culinary capacities I was well acquainted, having dined several times with the Colonel, told me he never felt less interest, or prepared a dinner with so much reluctance, fearing no one would return to eat it after such a sanguinary battle. Highly delighted was he when Colonel Wyndham came in, and more so when he found that his excellent governor (as he called him) had returned safe and sound. Every officer in the camp knew François, and the Colonel’s table got quite in repute through the exertions of this culinary disciple of Vattel. He used to go to the trenches, leaving his own batteries to brave those of the enemy, and all this for the comfort of his excellent governor. He was much liked by all, and always had a budget of anecdotes, some of them very interesting. He had lived as cook and major domo for several years with Madame Grisi. The last time I saw him he was in daily expectation of the Sebastopol medal.

The dinner was served, but I must say it was not so recherché as on former occasions; it seemed to have been prepared for sick epicures, or at least those who hovered between life and death. The conversation upon the events of the day was so animated that no one but myself perceived the difference. The Colonel’s excellent wine was highly relished, and in drinking the health of Colonels Wyndham and Wood, I requested the former to make a note of the fact that I had the honour of dining with him and Colonel Wood a few hours after the battle, as probably no one would credit it. This the Colonel immediately did, and Colonel Wood added his autograph, of which the following is a copy:--

8th September, 1855, 9 P.M.

I had the pleasure, after my return from leading the storming party of the 2nd Division to the Redan, of dining with Colonel D. Wood, and meeting at dinner Monsieur Soyer.

D. WOOD, _Lieut.-Col. Commanding, R.A. 4th Division_.

C. A. WYNDHAM, _Col. Commanding, 2nd Battalion_.

They had hardly signed this when a loud knock was heard at the door, and an orderly entered with a dispatch from General Simpson, who wished to see Colonel Wyndham directly. The Colonel lost no time in attending to his commander’s orders, and we mounted our horses and started for head-quarters. “An immediate attack on the Redan is what I shall recommend to the General-in-Chief” were the last words uttered by the Colonel before leaving the hut. The firing had ceased; the night was very dark, but the weather calm. It was with great difficulty we found our way through the camps, which appeared very silent after such a stormy day and day of storm. In about a quarter of an hour Colonel Wyndham observed, “Monsieur Soyer, I believe you are close to your quarters,” pointing to several lights. “There,” said he, “is the Guards’ camp.” I wished him good evening, and we separated.

My Zouave had not returned from the hospital, but shortly after made his appearance rather intoxicated. He related all that he had seen, and said that a few wounded Russians had been brought to the hospitals. “They have all they require,” said he; “and, in case of need, I told a man to call us up.” When he had put everything in order, he said, “I’ll keep watch,” and commenced singing his favourite songs. He made so much noise that we could not sleep if we had wished to do so, especially as the soldier-cooks and servants joined him in chorus.

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XXX. FALL OF THE DOOMED CITY

Sad scenes--Ride to Cathcart’s Hill--Glorious news--Animated groups--First spoils--Refreshment for the wounded--Chloroform--Dinner at the Carlton--Sebastopol in flames--A night expedition--Letter to Messrs. Routledge--Visit to Sebastopol--Russian fare--Poisoned bread--Culinary trophies--Interior of the Malakhoff--Bornet’s funeral oration over a dead comrade--The Russian hospital--Harrowing scenes.

Two days before I had been invited to dine with Colonel de Bathe, in order to partake of a Crimean fat goose. Though disappointed of my dinner, I was anxious to know if anything had happened to him and his brave companions in arms, and I therefore went round the camp and visited the Coldstream and Fusilier Guards. Many had not returned. Those off duty had retired to rest, which can be easily understood after the fatigues of such a day. I therefore returned, and laid down for a few hours. About four in the morning I went to the hospital, and found that every ward would soon be encumbered with sick and wounded. The cooks overfatigued, having been up all night at work. I at once proposed to furnish Dr. Mouatt with what he required, provided the purveyor would send the provisions to the Guards’ camp. The doctor thanked me for the offer, and gave an immediate order to that effect. My Zouave had brought me a cross, which had been worn by a Russian officer who was killed. I presented it to one of the prisoners, who kissed it fervently and passed it to his comrades. There were about fifteen of them. No difference was made in the attendance or care bestowed upon them and that shown to our own troops, though not less than four or five hundred were in the hospital at the time, and more were coming in. Such a scene of suffering can never be effaced from memory, and is not to be described.

While waiting for the provisions, I galloped as far as Cathcart’s Hill, and was much surprised to find that hostilities had entirely ceased. I met Colonel Steele just returning from the Redan.

“It’s all over, Monsieur Soyer,” said he.

“What do you mean, Colonel?” I replied.

“The Russians have retreated and abandoned Sebastopol! I have just been in the Redan, which exhibits a fearful scene. The loss has been great on all sides.”

He then left in a great hurry, saying he must return to head-quarters and telegraph the news to the War-office. A few houses were burning, and thick smoke was issuing from various parts of the city. Some of the Russian ships were burning in the bay. The weather was as calm, as it had been boisterous the day before. Amongst the group upon the hill were the Duke of Newcastle, Mr. Russell, and a few others, not above twenty in all. Our attention was attracted by the arrival of a soldier with the first spoils of the conquered city. These consisted of two chairs, a dressing table and a looking-glass. He also carried a hare in one hand. On being asked where he got these various articles, he answered, “From the city. The French troops are plundering, and not a Russian is to be found. Yet the place is very dangerous, as explosions are continually taking place.”

Shortly after, a long train of wounded, carried on mules, was seen going towards the General Hospital, amongst whom were a number of Russians. The cortège was followed by about twenty Russian prisoners; and I could not help remarking the youthful appearance of the latter, their age not exceeding from eighteen to twenty-five. This, I concluded, was owing to the immense number the enemy must have lost during the campaign.

My Zouave had, unknown to me, left on an expedition to the city. Although much against my will, it was impossible to stop him. My endeavours to impress upon his mind the importance of remaining with me upon that occasion were of no avail.

On returning to the camp I prepared a quantity of lemonade, arrowroot, beef-tea, arrowroot-water, barley-water, rice-water and pudding, boiled rice, &c., and through the kindness of Colonel Daniell and Major Fielden, twelve men were sent to carry them to the hospitals. I spent the remainder of the day in the hospitals, which were situated about a mile from the Guards’ camp, where I witnessed the most painful scenes and numerous amputations. Amongst those operated upon were several Russians. I could not help remarking what a blessing to the sufferer chloroform proved. Wonderful was the kindness and celerity with which the doctors performed the operations. These were so numerous that before night several buckets were filled with the limbs, and the greater part of those operated upon were doing well. The hospitals, although they contained nearly forty wards, were full. Some of our wounded, as well as the Russians, were placed under marquees and other tents. The wounds received by some of the Russians were fearful, and the groans of those who were mortally wounded awful. Having done all that was required at the hospital I returned to the camp, where an invitation awaited me to dine at the Carlton Club. This I was much pleased to accept. The painful scenes I had witnessed weighed heavily upon the heart and mind, and a little relaxation became necessary. At about eight o’clock I repaired to the appointed place, and eight or nine guests sat down.

The dinner was very good; and though the bill of fare was rather extensive, every dish was cleared. Was this due to the skill of the chef de cuisine, or to the sixteen hours of hard work in the trenches? If the latter was really the cause of this, I should recommend a blasé epicure, who has lost his appetite, to try this simple and effective process. It will not fail to succeed--that is, should he escape with life after sixteen hours of shooting or being shot at, like pigeons at the Red House. The conversation became very animated, and so interesting that a small pamphlet might be written upon it. All had seen something and had something to relate. My description of the hospitals was the great feature of the evening, as none present had seen them, having other occupation at their posts with the various regiments. The Queen’s health, that of the Emperor of the French, and of the Sultan, were toasted with three times three and one more cheer. In the midst of this, Buckingham!! the renowned Buckingham!!! who had displayed all his savoir faire in the service de table, acting upon that occasion as maître d’hôtel en chef, with a few utensils made a display worthy of a first-rate à la mode beef house, nothing to be laughed at in a Crimean popotte, rushed into the tent, crying “Colonel! Colonel! the whole of Sebastopol is in flames.” It was true. In less than ten minutes streets had taken fire with the rapidity of a firework, and every minute the conflagration seemed to be upon the increase. Nothing but fire and smoke could be seen from the Guards’ camp. I proposed that we should order our horses and go to Cathcart’s Hill to see what was going on. To my surprise, no one seemed inclined to move. They all said that they had had enough of Sebastopol, and were tired to death. On urging the matter, the only answer I got from some of my gallant friends was, “Not to-night, Monsieur Soyer, not to-night.”

“Surely,” said I, “gentlemen! you don’t expect the Russians will set a Sebastopol on fire every day at a few hours’ notice to please you.”

“That is not likely,” said Major Fielden; “but for all that I feel convinced that no one will go.”

As the fire seemed to extend and the sky became one lurid mass, I determined to go and get a sight of it. I bade my companions adieu, went back to my tent, ordered my horse, and tried to awake my Zouave in order to take him with me. He was so intoxicated I could not succeed. He had spent the day with some of his comrades, and completely lost his senses. As I could not find either groom or any of my men, I went to Mr. Mesnil’s tent. My major domo being an old campaigner, had as usual turned in all dressed to be ready for any contingency. Rousing him, I requested him to accompany me. The eternal reply of “Not to-night” was again heard.

“Oh, hang the place, let it burn,” said he.

As this was my last resource, I would not leave him. At last, in no very kindly mood, he turned out and agreed to go. The night was pitch dark, so we preferred going on foot. My friend was armed with a Russian sword and a night glass; I with a poignard-revolver and a lanthorn. Our intention was to get as near the city as possible, and we were prepared for any unpleasant encounter by firelight instead of moonlight. The purlieus of the camp were at this period anything but safe. With much difficulty, we reached Cathcart’s Hill, having lost our way in trying what we thought would be a short cut. The camp was silent, and apparently deserted. Although only eleven o’clock, we did not meet a soul, with the exception of sentries, on our way.

So sublime was the scene witnessed by us from the summit of Cathcart’s Hill, that it induced me, in my business correspondence with my publishers, Messrs. Routledge and Co., to forward them the following descriptive letter of the extraordinary effects this monstrous scene produced upon my senses. It has already appeared, I believe, in the public prints.

_Flagstaff, Cathcart’s Hill, near Sebastopol, 9th September, 1855._

GENTLEMEN,--Sebastopol has fallen, and almost every part of its superstructure is in flames. From the very spot I write, I can distinctly enumerate at least fourteen different conflagrations. The sight is at once sublime and terrific. A Martin or a Danby alone could trace on canvas, with their vigorous tints and their wild genius, the stupendous scene which my eyes are now beholding. The incessant roaring of the cannon, the explosion of shells, the blowing of the trumpet, the beating of drums, mingled with the groaning of the wounded and the anxious bustling of myriads of souls--adding to this the most tempestuous hurricane, the coldness of the weather, falling of hailstones, and the previously forest-like clouds of dust springing out from the harrowed Crimean soil, which raged during the whole of yesterday over the Allies’ camps, have suddenly given place to the most profound calm and glowing breeze. The semi-defunct city and all the camps are as silent as the graves by which I am now surrounded. Ten yards from here lie the remains of the immortal Cathcart, encircled by several of his noble companions in arms. From half-past eleven to this present time, two A.M., not a living creature, save myself and a friend, besides the picket-sentinel, has been here to witness, from this remarkable spot, the downfall of the venerated Russian city.

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

Your most obedient servant,

A. SOYER.

By the aid of the night-glass we obtained so good a view that we did not deem it advisable to proceed further. The heat of the fire was felt even at that distance, and explosions were frequent. The cause of the solitude in the camp at that hour can only be attributed to the excessive fatigue consequent upon the tremendous exertions of the previous day; the curtain had fallen on this grand drama--all was repose. We then returned to quarters through the same mournful solitude, not having met a soul either going or returning. This dreariness impressed me with the idea of chaos, after the destruction of a world and its empires.

Early the following morning, attended by my Zouave, who had recovered his sober senses, I started for the General Hospital.

We saw about thirty dead bodies laid out in a row, and stitched up in their blankets, with their name and nation marked upon each. I believe there was not a single case of amputation amongst them; they had all been mortally wounded. This speaks volumes in favour of the use of chloroform, the efficacy and safety of which, for a time, was much doubted, even by eminent medical men. Amputations were still being performed with skill and celerity worthy of a Guthrie or an Astley Cooper. The principal medical men were Drs. Mouatt, Lyons, &c. &c., who appeared to vie with each other in their kind attention to the sufferers.

Perceiving that nothing further was required for the present, and that all was going on well, I went to visit Sebastopol. My Zouave knew the road, as he had been there the day before. Our first visit was to the Redan, where we were refused admission. My intrepid Zouave, not contented with this rebuff, took me round another way, and, leaving our horses outside, we scaled the works and got in. The scene of death and destruction here was awful, and has been described too often for me to dwell upon it. Nothing but the effects of a devastating earthquake can give any one an idea of the débris of the interior, or of the destruction caused by the fire of the Allies, and the explosions that had ensued. We proceeded to the city by the Arsenal, on the British side. The town was still burning. On reaching the large barracks, we visited the kitchens and bakeries. In the former, some of the boilers contained cabbage-soup; others, a kind of porridge made with black flour. In the bakeries, loaves of bread were still in the ovens, and dough in the troughs. We removed a loaf from the oven and tasted it. As we had brought no provision with us, and there was none to be obtained in the burning city, we ate about half a pound of bread each, and finished our frugal repast with a good draught of water: the latter was retailed at the small charge of sixpence a pint. A quarter of an hour after, I looked my Zouave hard in the face, saying, as I placed my hand upon my stomach, with a rueful face and in a piteous tone of voice--

“Bless me, Bornet! do you feel anything wrong?--because, if you don’t, I do!” Looking still more pitiful, I continued--“I am confident the bread has been poisoned!”

“The deuce it has!” he replied, turning pale, and putting his fingers in his throat in order to throw off the dreadful meal, but without success.

I laughed at him, and called him a coward.

“Coward!” said he; “no, no, governor, I am no coward. I should not mind a round-shot, sword, or bayonet wound, in the field of battle; but, by Jupiter! to be poisoned ingloriously like a dog, would be base in the extreme.”

“You’re right,” said I. “Come, don’t fear, let’s go and taste the soupe-aux-choux.”

To this invitation he most decidedly objected, saying, “No more of their relishes for me, if you please.”

In my culinary ardour I tasted it, and found it extremely bad and entirely deprived of nutritious qualities, but no doubt in it was to be added some black bread which would improve it.

Among the culinary trophies we brought away, were a long iron fork, a ladle, some of the dough, biscuits, and a large piece of the black bread taken from the oven. I intended to test its merits upon my return to the camp. After visiting the docks, in which the vessels were still burning, as well as some in the harbour, we went to the Malakhoff, at the foot of which lay a number of dead bodies and horses. I met several acquaintances, and, on obtaining permission, visited the tower and its interior. The scene here was the same as at the Redan--one of destruction and desolation, though this place was not so much knocked about--but none could fail to appreciate the talent and skill displayed by the Russians in their style of fortification. The electric wires connected with the mines had been discovered and cut, rendering our visit comparatively safe. The men were busy burying the dead in all directions. My Zouave drew me towards the Black Battery, by which the division Bosquet had so severely suffered in valiantly defending their position. On arriving there, he recognised the dead body of one of his late comrades, and he implored me to allow him to remain till it was buried. As it was getting dark, and it was not probable that they would bury him that evening, I promised to allow him to return in the morning. Looking pitifully at the corpse, he said--

“Poor Adrien, what fun we had in Algeria! and now you are dead.” Stooping down over the body and kissing it on both cheeks, he continued--“To-morrow I will return and perform the last sad duty of a friend. Look, governor, would you not think he smiles? He was such a fine fellow--I am sure his soul has gone straight to head-quarters.”

It was almost dark, and we galloped home. The next morning my Zouave attended the funeral of his friend, and it took so long that I did not see him again for forty-eight hours. When he returned, he brought two Zouaves with him, and they were all laden with trophies; among them was an entirely new tent, which, from its very superior quality, was supposed to have belonged to some general officer. The Zouaves had pitched upon Prince Orloff as the owner, no doubt to increase its value. It really was worthy of a commander-in-chief. I purchased it, and have it still in my possession. The rest of the booty consisted of guns, swords, church relics, &c.--in fact, all they could lay hands upon which was likely to be converted into money. The only thing which surprised me was, that he had returned sober. While I was reprimanding him for his long absence, he coolly replied--

“You are right, governor; but you see, after paying the last duties to poor Adrien, in order to drown the melancholy feeling of human existence, I got boosy enough to make all the wine-sellers, and even old Father Bacchus himself, turn pale. When I began to find that I could no longer see, I said to myself, ‘Bornet, my friend, you must not disgrace the governor’s quarters. Go to bed upon the straw like a pig as you are.’ In ten hours my drunken fit had passed away like a vaporous cloud; and here, governor, is your Zouave, in a fit state, ready to dance upon a rope without a balance-pole.”

The original and comic nature of the excuse caused me to laugh at him, instead of scolding him.

He then proposed to go in the evening and find the remaining part of Count Orloff’s tent, spend the night in Sebastopol, and meet me the next morning at the Greek church in the town.

All was going on well at the General Hospital. It was crammed full, and amputations were being performed night and day. I called there daily with some of my men, and sent the others in various directions. The next day I visited Sebastopol, and went to the French side. I could not find Bornet, but saw one of his friends, who told me that he had slept in the French camp. I therefore gave him up, and determined to get rid of him as soon as possible. After visiting the town in company with a few friends whom I happened to meet there, we went to the Russian hospital, which we had been told was full of dead, sick, and wounded. During the few days that had elapsed since the capture of the city I had witnessed many awful scenes, but this was the most harrowing of all.

Perhaps one of the most awful and sickening sights possible for humanity to conjure up was witnessed by myself and many others in the Russian hospital in the interior of Sebastopol. Piled up one on the other, or lying singly on the bare flooring, were strewn hundreds of Russians, dead and dying. The view would have struck terror into the heart of the greatest stoic. These men seemed to have been placed here out of the way to suffer and die, uncared for, unattended. On one side might be seen a poor creature writhing in the last throes of dissolution; on the other, a fine fellow with almost divine resignation, who had just rendered himself up to his Maker, having died in dreadful agony. Men without legs or arms, and some with frightful body wounds or bayonet thrusts, lay huddled in helpless confusion. Desolation and death grimly met us at each step. Then the effluvia arising from the bodies was horrible beyond description.

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XXXI. ILLNESS AND CHANGE OF SCENE

Business suspended--Holiday-time for the cooks--Breakfast in the Malakhoff--Transferred to the Mamelon Vert--Attack of Crimean fever--Kind attentions--Relapse--An unexpected visitor and a conversation--Laughable incident--Trip to Scutari--Captain Brown of the Imperador--Fellow-travellers--Fame in America--Brigadier-General Storks--Consolations--Bornet’s consideration--His farewell--Soyer House--Third illness--Severe attack of dysentery--Recovery--Grand ball at the English Embassy--The Sultan attends--“Elizabeth Quadrilles”--Arrival of my field-stoves--Off again to the Crimea--Letters suggesting improvements in the hospitals.

For a few days all business seemed suspended in the camp, and the rage with every one was to visit the ruins of the far-famed city. The hospitals in the camp and at Balaklava were quite full, though most of the patients were going on very satisfactorily. Much bustle was observed at both the French and English head-quarters. As the soup was no longer required for the soldiers in the trenches, the order for the field-stoves remained some time in abeyance, and all appeared like holiday time. In fact, people kept flocking, with and without permission, into Sebastopol. Deeming this a favourable opportunity, I proposed giving a déjeûner in the Malakhoff two days after its capture, and cooking it with my magic bivouac-stove. Among the guests invited were Colonels Daniell, De Bathe; Brigadier Drummond; Majors Fielden, Armitage; Captain Tower, &c. &c. We were to muster about twelve; the great dish was to be the poulets sautés à la Malakhoff, cooked on my pocket bivouac-stove in the open air. All was prepared, and we were about to start, when I learnt that we should not be allowed to enter the tower. Colonel Daniell, who had some business at head-quarters, promised to try and obtain permission. I at once went to General Pelissier for the order, which could not be granted in his absence. I saw General Rose, who said any other day he should be happy to make the request. The appetites of my invited guests were sharpened and the stomachs waiting, and they would have grumbled had they not been satisfied. We therefore agreed that in lieu of having it in the Malakhoff, we should make ourselves satisfied with the Mamelon Vert à la Carleton; and a very jovial reunion we made of it. Alas! it was the last I was destined to enjoy for some time.

Seven or eight days after, I was laid up with a very severe attack of Crimean fever. Not being aware of the nature of my illness, I thought rest was all I required, after the fatigue I had undergone: I therefore went to bed--but what kind of bed?--under damp canvas, with a muddy floor, as it had rained heavily for some days. I felt so ill, that I could neither lie, sit, nor stand, without great suffering. Imagining that I could conquer the disease, I did not send for the doctor. Fortunately for me, a short time after my attack, as I lay in bed, Dr. Linton, who often visited me, chanced to call at my tent. I told him of my indisposition, and he at once sent me some medicine, more blankets, and kindly offered his services; at the same time informing me that I had a serious attack of fever. I was in the Coldstreams’ camp; and Dr. Wyatt claimed me as his patient, and paid me a visit. He immediately ordered me to keep my bed. For some days he watched my case most diligently, and under his skilful care I soon got better. During my illness I received visits and kind inquiries from almost all the heads of the forces, for which I shall ever feel grateful; their attention was most gratifying to my feelings, and I am proud of the consideration evinced for me by that noble band, the British army.

Directly I recovered and was allowed to go about, I felt anxious to have a decided answer respecting the stoves--for the matter was at that time in abeyance. I also wished to visit the various regimental hospitals in which my men were engaged teaching the soldiers. In my eagerness to attend to these things, I overfatigued myself, and brought on a second attack, much worse than the former. Dr. Wyatt was almost in despair, and privately informed Mr. Mesnil that I was in great danger. However, owing entirely to his great care and kind attention, in three weeks I had partly recovered, but was so much altered that scarcely anybody could recognise me. I one day visited Lord William Paulet, who had left Scutari, and was on board the Leander in Balaklava Bay. I was so much changed, that neither Admiral Freemantle nor his lordship knew me. Miss Nightingale had returned, and was much in want of my services. Not being aware of my illness, she sent for me; and as soon as I recovered, I waited upon and accompanied that lady to the Monastery Hospital. The fatigue consequent upon my exertions brought me so low, that Dr. Wyatt insisted upon my leaving the Crimea, saying he would not be responsible for my safety any longer in that climate.

A few days before my departure the following laughable circumstance occurred, which has already been related in the columns of the Illustrated News by an amateur correspondent:--

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR AND A CONVERSATION.

I had an amusing adventure the other evening. A stranger visited me, and I entertained a late distinguished attaché of the Reform Club unawares. It was getting dusk, and I was very tired, having been engaged in the hospital marquees all day--for we had a very sudden and violent outbreak of cholera. Phillipo, my Maltese servant, was down on his hands and knees, blowing the lighted charcoal in my fireplace, with the intention of expediting dinner. My fireplace, I must tell you, consists of a hole dug in the earth, with three pieces of iron hooping stretched across by way of grate; and a very admirable kitchen-range it is. Phillipo had just afforded me the agreeable information that dinner would not be ready for nearly an hour, and I was in the act of lighting my pipe, when I heard an unaccustomed step climbing up the rock side, close to my tent, and a musical and hilarious voice exclaimed, “Is Guy Earl of Warwick at home?” I laid down my pipe utterly astounded; and in another moment a hand drew aside the canvas, a head appeared at the entrance of my tent, and the portly figure of a man speedily completed the apparition. For a moment my visitor surveyed me, evidently as much astonished as I was. “Ah! I see, I have made one grand mistake!” (he spoke tolerable English, but with a decided French accent). “You will think me strange. I was looking for my old friend Warwick, and made sure this was his tent. We call him Guy Earl of Warwick. Ah! ah! badinage. It may be you know him?”

By this time I had fully surveyed my visitor. He was a tall, stout, rather handsome-looking man, aged about fifty years. He wore a drab-coloured “wide-awake” wrapped round with a red scarf, and a white blouse, heavily braided about the sleeves. His hair had been black, now rapidly changing into grey; and his whiskers, moustache, and beard (the latter primly cut), were of the same “Oxford mixture.” Observing that the walk up the hill had slightly affected his breathing, I invited him to take a seat on one of my bullock-trunks, the only “ottoman” of which my Turkish tent could boast. (It is no slight exertion to get up to my tent, as I have pitched it almost at the top of a hill, in order, if possible, to evade the rats, which swarm in the Crimea; indeed, I scarcely know whether rats, flies, or fleas are the greatest nuisance.) In a few moments we got into conversation.

“I am going to Balaklava shortly,” said the stranger; “I am going on board ship. I have been out here some few months; my health has been gone ever since I came. They tell me I am older ten years this last five months. I am going to England.”

“And I am only waiting till this Crimean drama is over to follow your example,” said I. “I must see the Russians finally driven out, and then I go home too. As to campaigning, the curiosity which brought me here is gratified; as to the moving accidents of war, I have supped full of horrors!--But here comes Phillipo with the dinner.”

The Maltese entered, and placed upon the table a piece of beef baked in an iron pot, also some boiled potatoes. I observed that my visitor eyed the dinner curiously, and I was almost angry to observe the instantaneous elevation of his eyebrows, when with great difficulty I succeeded in whittling off with a sharp carving-knife a slice of the outside.

“Nice beef, but not done quite enough,” said my visitor.

He might well say so; it was almost raw. I stuck a fork into the potatoes; they were as hard as pebbles. I was in despair. The stranger laughed aloud. I was rapidly getting sulky.

“I see you have a good fire outside,” said my visitor; “that charcoal gives a beautiful heat. Now, if you will take my advice, I should say, cut a slice or two----“

“Excuse me,” I replied, “but if there is one thing more than another that I pride myself on, it is my cooking. I can cook with any fellow in the Crimea, perhaps excepting Soyer; and some people say that he is a great humbug.”

“Do they indeed?” said he. “Well, he must be rather a clever humbug to sell 40,000 of his books.”

“I must confess,” I said, “that his shilling Cookery-book is a great invention. I have made many capital dishes by its direction. The fact is, I generally superintend the cooking myself.”

“And your politeness to me has spoiled your dinner. Now look here.”

And, almost before I could interpose a word, my potatoes were in slices, a large onion was dissected piecemeal, my beef was submitted to the knife, a pinch or two of ration salt and pepper completed the preparations, and my little canteen-pan was on the fire. I looked on, regarding these proceedings with much astonishment, and not a little jealousy. After a few minutes the stranger gave the pan a graceful wave or two over the fire, and then replaced it on the table. There was a dinner fit for Sardanapalus! Never shall I forget the elegant curl of that steam, or the exquisite odour which soon pervaded the atmosphere of my tent. I could not help thinking of and half excusing a certain hairy man who lived in the first ages, and who for just such a mess of potage disposed of his estates.

“How do you like it?” said the stranger.

“Don’t talk at present,” I answered; “I consider dinner one of the most serious duties of life.”

“Ah! ah! then you would not call Soyer a humbug to make this?”

“Soyer!” I said in disdain--“Soyer never made or invented a dish half as good in his life! Talk about French slops in comparison with prime English beef and onions! Bah!”

I was carried away by my enthusiasm, and quite forgot that I was at that moment eating part of the carcase of a wretched Armenian beast, that would not have fetched 50s. in an English market. At last dinner was over.

“One more glass of sherry,” said the stranger, “and then I go. I am very glad to have made your acquaintance, and I hope you will come and see me when you come down to Balaklava. I shall be on board the ship Edward in the bay. I am going to stop there a little time for my health. Come on board and ask for me.”

“With very great pleasure--and your name?”

“Oh! my name--Soyer,” said he; and he sat down and laughed till the tears stood in his eyes.

W. C.

Soon after I left Balaklava for Scutari on board the Imperador, Captain Brown. His humorous countenance would alone have sufficed to restore the gaiety of the most shattered constitution, setting aside his good-nature and continual kindness to his numerous passengers, particularly the invalids. What visitor to the Crimea has not known or heard of Captain Brown of the Imperador? His heart was as large as his ship, and his mind as brilliant as his gorgeous saloon: moreover, his table was worthy of any yachting epicure. He was in every way a credit to that noble class of men, the pet children of the ocean, the captain’s kingly race. At the time of my trip he was an invalid, having broken two of his ribs; but he did not consider the case a serious one, and consoled himself by saying this accident was nothing compared with the one he had met with a few months before. “Then,” said he, laughing, “I actually fell into the coal-hole, and broke my collar bone; and (showing his lame arm) I shall be lame for life through it. However, these broken ribs are nearly set again, and I shall soon be well. But pray do not make me laugh--come, let us have another glass of port,” closed his argument. (This was cheese-time dialogue.)

We had a fine passage, as well as agreeable companions in the passengers, amongst whom were three American gentlemen just returning from Russia. They were in Sebastopol during the storming on the 8th of September, and had been sent by their Government upon important duty. Owing to my weakness at the time, I have forgotten the purport of their mission. They had been introduced to the Emperor Alexander, and spoke in high terms of his Majesty’s courtesy. They had come from America in their own ship, which was at that time in the Bosphorus undergoing repairs. I was invited to dine with them some day, which I promised to do, but was not able to keep my promise, in consequence of my continued illness. “The dinner,” said one of them, “shall be cooked à la Soyer, for we have your book on board--the one called the Modern Housewife.”

I felt much flattered when they afterwards told me that my book was very extensively used in America. “Your Cookery-book, Monsieur Soyer, is the national book, or ‘household words.’ Every respectable family has it. Indeed, you are as well known by reputation in America as in England. Take this for a standing invitation. Should you ever come as far as our American land of freedom, we invite you to be our guest.”

At this I was highly gratified, and almost promised, if I recovered, to accept their invitation. At all events, in case I should not go, I take this opportunity of thanking them heartily for their kind invitation, in hopes that this book, like its predecessors, will cross the Atlantic, and come under their notice.

To me everything on board the magnificent ship Imperador wore a smiling aspect, and I began to feel myself again. I no sooner arrived at Scutari, than I went and visited Brigadier-General Storks, with whom I had not the pleasure of being acquainted. He had succeeded Lord William Paulet. I was kindly received by the general. He congratulated me in flattering terms upon the good system I had introduced into the kitchen department of the hospitals, of which he was at that time the governor. I felt myself quite at home with the general, who, though an Englishman, could have taught me my own language. He certainly spoke it more fluently than I did myself: I had been so long in England, and had, moreover, employed so many people of different nations--Greeks, Armenians, Turks, French, Italians; and I must not omit two Maltese, who, to render them justice, were worth all my other cooks put together for intelligence and activity--that I began to forget my native tongue. My readers can easily suppose that, amidst such a miscellany of languages, one might easily murder one’s own. General Storks is not only a good French scholar, but has all the tournure and appearance of the French beau idéal. After about half-an-hour’s chat upon business and other matters, I left the general, and promised to have the pleasure of visiting him frequently during my stay in Scutari, which was to be about a week--it being then my intention to return to England to regain my health.

I visited my first Crimean doctor, Dr. Linton, who had left the Crimea to replace Dr. Cumming. He would hardly condescend to know me, so much had I altered; and I found this to be the case with every one I met. I frightened my cooks when I entered the kitchen. They had heard that I was dead, which I afterwards personally denied; but they did not think it possible I could look so bad. Purveyors, comptrollers, civilian and military doctors, Sisters of Mercy, all consoled me by saying, “I fear you will never get over it, Monsieur Soyer.”

“Well,” I replied to some of them, “that’s my business; at all events, I will do my best to deceive you.”

Nothing is less likely to restore a man when he is half dead than trying to persuade him that he must succumb. Thanks to my lucky star, I have deceived them all; and some richly deserve it, as they had laid bets upon my chance, particularly my Zouave and another of my men. The former answered all inquiries respecting the state of my health by, “The governor, you see, is in a very bad way. His hash is settled; it is all over with him. It is a pity, for he is a good man, and he had promised to take me with him to London, a place I very much wish to visit.”

A few days after my arrival in Constantinople my health again failed me, and having no further need for the services of my Zouave, to his great regret we parted, but on such friendly terms, that he afterwards often observed, “Look ye, governor, you have been a good master to me, and if you ever recover from your serious illness, which is not very probable, send for me--I am still your man, and will follow you anywhere and everywhere, even to England; and if any fellow annoys you, here is the arm (showing it to the shoulder) which will make them bleed to death and bury them after.”

I took up my residence at Soyer House, where I enjoyed the gay and interesting prospect for an invalid of the monster lugubrious cemetery, or Grand Champ des Morts, on one side, and the hospital on the other. The weather was wet and wretched--the house, as usual, splendidly ventilated, and had been robbed of its furniture by a Greek servant I had left there. It was, moreover, populated by rats and other vermin. Before I could set it in order, I fell ill for the third time, and had, in addition to my former malady, a severe attack of dysentery. I left my dismal abode, now become unbearable, crossed the Bosphorus to Pera, and took up my lodgings at an hotel for a few days, as I then anticipated, having determined upon my departure for England. However, instead of improving in health, I grew worse and worse, and was laid up for three months; in fact, I began to fear my Zouave would win his wager. During this time, I received notice that the order had been given for four hundred stoves, which were to be forwarded as fast as they could be made. I therefore decided upon remaining at Constantinople, in the hope of being able, in the event of getting better, of returning to the Crimea, and distributing them to the different regiments.

One day I had crossed over to Scutari, in order to visit Miss Nightingale, who had just arrived from Balaklava, when I met the celebrated Dr. Sutherland, who, like the rest, gave me a very encouraging view of his scientific opinion upon the state of my health. “For God’s sake, Soyer,” said he, “do leave this country, and go immediately to Malta--not England--or you are a dead man.”

“Not so, doctor,” I replied; “I am much better these last few days. In fact, I am going back to the Crimea; my stoves are expected daily, and I must go and distribute them.”

“In that case, don’t forget to take your tombstone with you.”

“A very interesting thing to do, doctor; but I shall chance the voyage for all that, if I improve; and as to the tombstone, I shall leave that to friendly hands in case it is required.”

I thanked him for the valuable medical advice he had given me, as well as the suggestion of a visit to Malta. I left my German doctor, Mr. Morris, a very eminent man I believe, but his German style of treatment did not seem to agree with my John Bull constitution. I had no sooner left him and adopted the English style of treatment, (and here I cannot refrain from expressing my thanks to a young medical gentleman named Ambler, who was most assiduous in his kind attentions to me, and through following his prescriptions, which were very strengthening, I ultimately recovered,) and was able to cook nice things for myself, instead of starving à l’Allemande upon a rigorous diet, than I regained strength enough to go about and look to business, and even to ride from hospital to hospital--go to the Isles des Princes, Therapia, Buyukderé, &c., for change of air, and was at last strong enough to accept the following invitation to the grand ball at the English Embassy:--

La Vicomtesse Stratford de Redcliffe prie Monsieur Soyer de venir passer chez elle la soirée de Jeudi, 31 Janvier, à 10 heures.

Bal Costumé.

This grand annual festival, so eagerly looked for by the fashionables of Pera and Constantinople, presented this year quite a new phase. In addition to the usual diplomatic corps of the various nations represented by their ambassadors and their noble families, there were the élite of the Allied armies. The full-dress costumes of the diplomatic corps, as well as those of the military men, intermixed with hundreds of exquisite fancy costumes, formed a ravishing tout ensemble.

Such an assemblage of members of all nations probably never met beneath the same roof, and very likely never will again--the advent of the war being the cause. The greatest attraction of the ball was the assemblage of ladies in their brilliant costumes. Independent of those from the various embassies, were French, English, German, Greek, Armenian, Italian, and Circassian ladies--in fact, all nations except the one the ball was given to, viz., Turkish ladies, the only lady in that Oriental costume turning out to be a colonel of cavalry. At an early hour, the magnificent ball-room, which is lit from the roof by thousands of wax lights, was full. At nine precisely the cannon was heard announcing the arrival of the Sultan at the Palais d’Angleterre. The coup-d’œil was really fairylike, upon the entrance of his Majesty and suite, the latter attired in full uniforms, which could not fail to astonish the most initiated eye by the gorgeous display of gold, jewels, and diamonds, coupled with the idea that such a scene had never before been witnessed except on high Turkish festivals, which are even more solemn than our grand ceremonies. Upon this occasion were assembled all the grandees and chief Turkish officers, attired in their sacred festival uniforms, with a smile upon their countenances, instead of the usual stolid and serious cast of features so peculiar to the Moslem during their grand ceremonies. His Sublime Majesty was nobly though plainly attired, and shone above his suite by his magnificent simplicity.

Lord Stratford de Redcliffe met the Sultan at the foot of the great marble staircase, that architectural chef-d’œuvre of the Palais d’Angleterre; and her ladyship and family, surrounded by her noble circle, received him at the summit. His Majesty, with great affability, expressed through Lord de Redcliffe the gratification he felt at being presented to her ladyship and her numerous visitors. He was shown through the various saloons, which were brilliantly illuminated and profusely decorated with choice flowers: they were all crowded. The expression of his Majesty’s countenance showed that he took the most vivid interest in the novel scene witnessed by him for the first time. The ladies’ fancy dresses were in exquisite taste, particularly the “Elizabeth Quadrilles,” led by Lady de Redcliffe and the young ladies, forming a perfect representation in tableau vivant of the Elizabethan period, brilliantly executed. The costumes most to be admired in that assemblage of aristocratic beauty were, the Pompadour, Ninon de l’Enclos, ancient Greek, Circassian, Roman peasant, Albanaise, Catalanaise, and Pierrettes.

All the gentlemen, except the diplomatic and high military corps, were in fancy character, which gave a cheerful appearance and ensemble to the ball; and the Sultan, prior to his departure, expressed to Lord and Lady de Redcliffe the gratification he felt at witnessing such a lively scene.[21]

Towards five in the morning, its dazzling grandeur had disappeared, and very forcibly presented to some of us the reverse of the medal. To a mild evening succeeded a most tempestuous and cold morning: snow fell heavily in the Oriental city. The change of temperature was so sudden and violent, that one might have fancied oneself transferred by enchantment from summer to winter, or from Paradise to Pandemonium. The sudden change of scene and temperature presented a sad contrast to the mind. A few friends accompanied me who were, like myself, very lightly clad, being in character, and we had to go home in that storm of snow on foot. On reflection, I felt that I had acted very imprudently in going at all, in the state I was then in, and that it might prove fatal to me. “After all,” said I to my friends, who, like myself, were floundering about in the snow, by that time six inches deep in some places, “I should very much regret not having been, no matter what may be the consequences. To be present at an entertainment which the Padischah for the first time had honoured with his presence, viz., a Christian ball, is far from being a common thing.”

We reached our hotel door as wet as frogs, the movements of which reptile we had been for some time imitating by jumping from tombstone to tombstone in the Petit Champ des Morts, that being our nearest road home. The door was opened, after we had knocked about twenty times. Nevertheless, we had no reason to be dull or impatient, as there was defiling before us the everlasting caravan of donkeys laden with coffins for the daily consumption of the French hospital at Pera. Never, perhaps, upon any stage was there such a sudden change from the sublime to the gloomy. The door at last opened, and we were saluted with a “Very sorry, gentlemen, to keep you waiting, but we did not expect you so early.” It was only half-past six A.M.

I made sure that I should be ill after such a series of events, and, wishing to be quiet, I gave special orders that no one should be permitted to disturb me, excepting the doctor, who was in the habit of calling occasionally. I had scarcely fallen asleep, when I was aroused by a knock at the door, and a letter was put into my hands apprising me that part of my stoves had arrived. I was, therefore, obliged to rise immediately and to go in person to the Admiralty, as my head man had left for Scutari the night before. The steamer was on its way to Balaklava, and the captain did not know what he was to do with them. I immediately wrote to Colonel Blane at head-quarters upon the subject, and received the following letter in reply:--

HEAD-QUARTERS, CRIMEA, 19th March, 1856.

SIR,--In reply to your letter of the 13th inst., I am directed to acquaint you that the new field-stoves will not be issued by Captain Gordon until he receives instructions to that effect from the Quartermaster-General. Lieut.-Colonel Halliwell, Assistant Quartermaster-General of the Fourth Division, will give you, on your arrival in the Crimea, every information as to the hut which was directed to be built for your use in the camp of the Fourth Division.

I have the honour to be, Sir,

Your most obedient servant, ROBERT BLANE, Lieut.-Col., Military Secretary.

Monsieur A. Soyer, Barrack Hospital, Scutari.

The exertion I had undergone for nearly twenty-four hours, I fully expected would have laid me up for as many days. On the contrary, however, I felt as strong again as the day before the ball, and to this event alone I attribute my cure. This proves that a sudden change may often be beneficial in cases of violent disease. In a few days I once more embarked on board the Ottowa, and was again en route to the Crimean shore, but received the following letter from Lord de Redcliffe before leaving:--

BRITISH EMBASSY, February 20th, 1856.

DEAR MONSIEUR SOYER,--I cannot let you go back to the Crimea, which I understand you think of doing, without receiving my written thanks, in addition to those which I have already expressed by word of mouth.

It must be a great satisfaction to you to have found so excellent a field for the application of your skill and humanity; and I sincerely hope that your name will be never dissociated from the great and memorable events of the present war.

Believe me, very sincerely yours, STRATFORD DE REDCLIFFE.

Monsieur A. Soyer.

Prior to my departure, to my great satisfaction, the Medical Staff Corps were well established in the Barrack and General Hospitals, these being the only ones remaining. All the responsibility of the culinary department in those establishments was thus taken off my hands, as the Medical Staff were well acquainted with my system, which was followed to the last.

The following letters which I wrote to the Government and General Storks will prove the necessity that exists for the establishment of such a corps for military hospitals; and it ought to be established by every nation.

To General Storks, Commanding Officer.

BARRACK HOSPITAL, SCUTARI, March 11th, 1856.

MONS. LE GENERAL,--My field-stoves for the army, so long expected, having just arrived; in a few days I shall proceed to the Crimea to distribute them to the different regiments, as per special orders from the War-office.

Prior to my departure hence, I am happy to inform you that the Medical Staff Corps is now instructed by Victor, the civilian cook, in the management of the kitchen department of the hospital under the new system introduced by me and approved of by the medical authorities, which up to this time (a period of twelve months) has perfectly succeeded.

As I shall require Victor with me in the Crimea, I shall leave the future management in the hands of the said corps: I would recommend its introduction in all the military hospitals, it being of the utmost importance for the regularity of the diet for the sick, that the employés, when once initiated, should not be removed, as was the case with the soldier cooks, and which removal was much commented upon by myself and Dr. Cumming on my arrival at Scutari, and induced me to introduce civilian cooks. The introduction of the new corps will also tend to the regularity and economy of the extra-diet system, which is a matter of great importance in so large an establishment, and has till now been attended with difficulty, as the civilian cooks could not be subjected to the rigid discipline of the new corps.

I feel myself in duty bound to say that Mr. Robertson, the purveyor-in-chief, has assisted me in every way to bring the system to the state of perfection in which it now is; which system I am confident will, by the introduction of my printed receipts, be adopted at home in the civil as well as military hospitals--it having been submitted to both military and civilian medical officers, who have approved the same, and also assisted me with their valuable knowledge and suggestions in its formation.

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

Your most obedient servant, A. SOYER.

To the Right Hon. Lord Panmure, Secretary-at-War.

BARRACK HOSPITAL, SCUTARI, March 11th, 1856.

MY LORD,--The ship Cape of Good Hope, with the first consignment of my stoves on board, has just passed through the Bosphorus to Balaklava, and, to my great disappointment, without stopping here; as I was in daily expectation of her arrival in order to proceed in her to the Crimea, and distribute them to the different regiments, having with that view requested from the Admiralty-office, and the wharf-master at Scutari, notice of her arrival. I have just been apprised that the ship was ordered direct for Balaklava, and I shall follow her as early as possible. I have written to head-quarters to that effect, and beg to enclose the copy of a letter to General Storks, in which your lordship will perceive how highly I approve of the introduction of the new Medical Staff Corps.

I have the honour to be,

Your most obedient servant, A. SOYER.

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XXXII. CAMP OF THE FOURTH DIVISION

Excellent quality of the stoves--Mr. Phillips--Strange way of repairing--Interview with General Codrington--installed on Cathcart’s Hill--Gourmet and gourmand--Lessons to the soldier-cooks--Receipt to cook salt meat for fifty men--Army soup for fifty men--Success of my stoves--The grand breakfast--Guests--Economy--Use of the fat--General Garrett’s testimony--Giving-parties mania--Invitations--My first dinner--Amusements--General Lüders’s invitation to the Allied Commanders--Scene on the Mackenzie Heights--Fraternization--Hospitality of the Tartar families.

I thus had the opportunity of taking my civilian cooks away with me, as I wanted their services in the Crimea. Upon my arrival at Balaklava, I paid my respects to General Codrington. My stoves had arrived just before, and the fact of their having been adopted was mentioned in the orders of the day.

Mr. Phillips, the engineer I had requested the Government to send out to superintend or repair the stoves if required, arrived on board the Argo. I am happy to say that, as far as repairs were concerned, this gentleman’s services were not needed. Although the stoves were frequently moved from camp to camp, and from one regiment to another--were in continual use in the open air, exposed to all weathers, and some of them for above twelve months, they did not stand in need of any repairs. This fact speaks volumes for their fitness for campaigning.

Mr. Phillips was the son of one of the partners of the firm of Smith and Phillips. He had nothing to do professionally as regards the repairing of the stoves, but I must acknowledge that he made himself very useful as well as agreeable. He rose very early, and accompanied me in my camp cruises, racing from stove to stove. He woke at daybreak, but always felt rather drowsy till he had taken a strong cup of tea, with a stronger drop of rum in it, which set him, as he said, upon his mettle. He then mounted his horse, which had gloriously served his country for nearly fourteen years in the French cavalry under a heavy cuirassier. The only inconvenience with this warrior quadruped was that my cockney Zouave was never sure which regiment he should visit first, as he was no sooner on the back of this old pensioner, than he began to fidget, and off he went in any direction, but always stopped at some regimental stable. This did not so much matter, as I had stoves in almost every regiment. The only plan was to make no positive appointment.

On two or three occasions he was less successful, for Ventre-à-terre--such was the French name of that Pegasus--took him full gallop through the French camp. The first inconvenience was my having no stove there; the second, the French had arrested him for galloping through the camp, and were about to put his horse in the pound and himself in prison. I arrived quite by chance, and he was liberated. As he spoke no French, he was endeavouring to assure them in English that he was not the culprit, but his horse. I explained the case to the French sergeant, and recommended, as a point of justice, as it was the animal’s fault, that he should be put in the stable and the horse in prison. This amused the group of Imperial Guards, who surrounded us by scores, and a few bottles of very, very acid wine, procured at Madame Fleur des Bois’, the mistress of the canteen, terminated in full glee the adventure of my cockney Zouave of Snow-hill in the French camp of the Crimea.

Mr. Phillips was an excellent vocalist, and his collection, unlike that of my Zouave Bornet, with his “En avant les Bataillons d’Afrique,” “Storm of Constantine,” “Bravest of the Brave,” “Cannon Ball,” “Shell Polka,” &c., was of a softer nature, including “Sally in our Alley,” who, he pretended, was the love of his heart. Another of his favourite pieces intimated that the soft part of that organ was bursting for the love of Alice Gray, whom he very much wished to meet by moonlight alone, or in company with the “Ratcatcher’s Daughter,” while walking round the garden with “Villikins and his Dinah.” I am induced thus minutely to depict the merits of my Snow-hill Zouave, because he will be so well recognised by those who were in the camp. He was short, fair, fat, and full of London jokes, which he had the fault of laughing at more himself than those did who listened to him. He is a good son, good husband, good father, a good fellow, but a bad punster.

The chief evil in the old canteen cooking apparatus was, that it so easily got out of repair. There was no possibility either of mending them or of obtaining new ones, as they were only issued at certain periods. I saw some that had been mended in a most extraordinary style. When the hole was too small, the soldiers would poke a rusty nail into it; if large, a nail with a piece of leather attached. Other operators would cut a piece off the cover in order to mend the bottom or side; and as after that scientific repair leakage was unavoidable, they were obliged to keep putting in fresh water, or to let the canteen burn.

After our interview, General Codrington promised me his assistance. The Congress was then sitting, and rumours of peace were flying about. I asked the general whether it would not be better to prevent more stoves being sent out. He replied--

“Perhaps it would.”

“I am glad to hear you say so, your excellency, it being a sign of peace, as war I consider at all times unprofitable.”

“On the contrary, Monsieur Soyer; we are making greater preparations than ever for war.”

It was decided that, for the time being, one stove should be delivered to each regiment, and be removed from company to company, in order to give all the men an insight into the method of using them, and of my system of cooking. This was immediately done; and on the receipt of the following from Colonel Blane, I went to Colonel Halliwell:--

HEAD-QUARTERS, CRIMEA.

MY DEAR SIR,--By applying to Colonel Halliwell of the Fourth Division, he will give you possession of the hut which has been built for yourself and suite, and will assist you in every manner possible.

I am, yours ever,

S. J. BLANE, Col.,

Mil. Sec. to Gen. Sir W. Codrington, Commanding.

To Monsieur Soyer.

In a very short space of time my tents were pitched, and myself and my people were installed, on that celebrated spot called after that great and deeply-regretted man, General Cathcart--viz., Cathcart’s Hill.

This was now my castle, and proud was I of the noble site granted to me, as well as of my neighbours, from whom I received a most kind and friendly reception. Indeed, it was with the highest gratification that I found in the Fourth Division the same welcome and urbanity I had received in the First. I shall ever be grateful to Colonel Halliwell, who, by the bye, is a very distinguished artist and a discriminating epicure. Excuse the remark, dear reader, but a man, as I have already remarked in my Regenerator, may be either a gourmet or a gourmand, but never both: “car le gourmand n’est jamais gourmet; l’un mange sans déguster, l’autre déguste en mangeant.” The gourmet is the Epicurean dilettante, who eats scientifically and with all his organs--ears, of course, included. The gourmand’s stomach alone acts; he swallows all that is put before him, never praises the culinary artist, and seldom complains of the quality of the food, but frequently of the want of quantity.

Therefore, gourmets, epicures, high-livers, and wealthy merchants, who are gifted with a fine intellect, never allow yourselves to be called a gourmand if you are really deserving of the title of gourmet--and this title I confidently bestow upon my honourable friend Colonel Halliwell, who was not only a gourmet, but also a very good amateur cook. I defy any one to make a better mayonnaise, not even excepting professionals.

The plan I had adopted for the introduction of my stoves was as follows:--I first had an interview with the colonel of the regiment, who introduced me to the quartermaster--the latter to the storekeeper. Then I went to the commissariat in each division, where I looked over the stores, in order to regulate the distribution of the provisions and condiments with judgment and according to common sense.[22]

To remedy this evil in a private family would only require a few minutes’ conversation with the cook; while in an army it would take years, as military rules would have to be changed and fresh ones introduced. Simple as the change may appear, it is still very difficult to carry out, particularly in a camp extending over such a large space of ground. Fortunately, I was invested with the power of doing so without troubling the authorities: nevertheless, it was only by the following plan that I succeeded. To effect this very important object, as well as to introduce my new system, I devoted an hour to attend in person and give the first lesson myself to the soldier-cooks. As the colonel, quartermaster, and a serjeant were present, besides many officers as lookers-on, a great impression was thus created upon the men, who immediately saw the importance of following my instructions. I supplied the cooks with receipts printed at head-quarters, which gave them quite an official appearance. The annexed specimen will give an idea of their simplicity, and of the facility with which they might be adopted:--

SOYER’S SIMPLIFIED RECEIPT TO COOK SALT MEAT FOR FIFTY MEN.

HEAD-QUARTERS, CRIMEA, 12th May, 1856.

1. Put 50 lbs. of meat in the boiler. 2. Fill with water, and let it soak all night. 3. Next morning wash the meat well. 4. Fill with fresh water, and boil gently three hours.

P.S.--Skim off the fat, which, when cold, is an excellent substitute for butter.

SOYER’S ARMY SOUP FOR FIFTY MEN.

1. Put in the boiler 30 quarts, 7½ gallons, or 5½ camp-kettles of water. 2. Add to it 50 lbs. of meat, either beef or mutton. 3. The rations of preserved or fresh vegetables. 4. Ten small table-spoonfuls of salt. 5. Simmer three hours, and serve.

P.S.--When rice is issued, put it in when boiling. Three pounds will be sufficient. About 8 lbs. of fresh vegetables, or 4 squares from a cake of preserved ditto. A table-spoonful of pepper, if handy.

Skim off the fat, which, when cold, is an excellent substitute for butter.[23] (For other variations of receipts, see Addenda.)

Thanks to the kindness of the colonels and of the authorities of each regiment, every man did his best, and not one found fault with either the stoves or the receipts: on the contrary, they all took pride in their task, and only regretted being compelled to return to the use of the camp-kettles, as sufficient of my stoves had not then arrived to enable me to supply them all. The cooking out of doors was also very agreeable to them, besides the saving of labour, in not having to cut, split, or saw several hundredweight of wood for each company, as they now only required a few pounds.

Having proved the utility of the stoves, the military authorities and doctors tasted the different soups and messes, with which they were also well pleased. The following letters, with those in Addenda,[24] will fully corroborate my statement on both these points:--

WAR-OFFICE, June 8th, 1855.

SIR,--I am directed to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 11th ultimo, reporting your arrival at Balaklava, and the steps taken by you for improving the condition of the kitchens and cooking arrangements of the hospitals there; and to acquaint you, that your account of your proceedings and progress is very satisfactory.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant, FREDERICK J. PRESCOTT.

Monsieur Soyer, The Robert Lowe, Balaklava Harbour, Crimea.

WAR OFFICE, 19th September, 1855.

SIR,--I am directed to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 6th ultimo, enclosing a copy of your arrangements at Scutari prior to your leaving for the Crimea, and to convey to you the thanks of the Secretary-at-War for that very satisfactory communication.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant, FRED. J. PRESCOTT.

Monsieur A. Soyer, Scutari.

0112/19

WAR DEPARTMENT, 20th October, 1855.

SIR,--I am directed to convey to you his lordship’s thanks for your communications of the 8th and 22nd September, and 2nd instant; and, in reply, to inform you, that on your recommendation his lordship has sanctioned an order for 400 stoves to be manufactured by Messrs. Smith and Phillips, of Snow Hill, London; and has given direction that every exertion be used to despatch them at as early a period as possible.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant, JOHN CROOMES.

Monsieur Soyer, Crimea.

0112/26

WAR DEPARTMENT, 7th December, 1855.

SIR,--With reference to your letters of the 10th and 14th November, I am directed to acquaint you that Lord Panmure has pleasure in affording you the facilities you desire in making another visit to the Crimea for the purpose of seeing that a proper use is made of the cooking stoves which have been ordered to be sent out.

His lordship has written to Sir W. Codrington, instructing him to allow you the use of a hut, and to extend to you the same advantages which you were afforded under Sir James Simpson’s command; but I am to add, that up to the present time, none of the stoves have been actually dispatched, although it is expected that a portion of them will be ready very shortly.

You must exercise your own discretion, therefore, as to the time for your proceeding to the Crimea.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant, E. CHUMLEY.

Monsieur Soyer, Scutari.

WAR DEPARTMENT, 25th April, 1856.

SIR,--I am directed by Lord Panmure to acknowledge the receipt of your letter dated 31st March, and to express his lordship’s pleasure in learning that the cooking arrangements which you have introduced in the hospitals at Scutari have answered so perfectly.

Lord Panmure approves of your presenting one of the stoves to Marshal Pelissier, provided you previously obtain the concurrence of Sir W. Codrington.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant, JOHN CROOMES.

Monsieur Alexis Soyer, Crimea.

WAR DEPARTMENT, 6th June, 1856.

SIR,--I am directed to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 6th ultimo, reporting the success of your field-stoves in the Crimea, and enclosing two receipts for the preparation of food for the army, and to express Lord Panmure’s satisfaction thereon.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant, J. BACON.

Monsieur Soyer, &c., Crimea.

After having started them in person, I sent my cooks every morning on their rounds to see if the men followed my instructions, and I visited each regiment daily. The hospitals, thank God, were at this time almost empty. When a division had made use of the stoves about a week, I requested the general commanding that division to inquire of the colonel, officers, and men, their opinion of the results of my labours; and in that manner I acquired the above-mentioned numerous letters of commendation, having in my possession many others, but space will not allow of their insertion.

One of the days on which salt rations were issued, I requested General Garrett to go round his division and ask the men what they did with the fat. This he very kindly did, accompanied by his aide-de-camp, Major Dallas. The first cook we visited, in the 18th Regiment, had rations for 94 men (the whole of his company). They were being cooked in one stove: the two stoves for the same quantity would have been much better, as the more water the meat is boiled in, the more salt is extracted from it. The boiler was filled to the brim, the contents simmering gently: the meat was beautifully cooked. There were about four inches of clear fat, as sweet as butter, floating on the top. The stove was in the open air, and the cook only burnt from ten to fifteen pounds of wood (or hardly so much) to cook for that number--viz., the whole of his company. The allowance of wood had been reduced from 4½lbs. to 3½lbs. per man daily. The advent of peace gave me a full opportunity of thoroughly instructing the men, and thus I was enabled firmly to establish my new system. The saving in wood alone, supposing each company to consist of one hundred men, would, at the former rate of allowance, amount to 450lbs. per company per diem, allowing 25lbs. for cooking, which is ample. This in a regiment of eight companies would make a daily saving of 3600lbs. of wood, independent of the economy of transport, mules, labour, &c. In an army of forty thousand men, it would amount to the immense figure of 180,000lbs., or 90 tons, per day saved to the Government, or 32,850 tons per annum.

General Garrett asked the man what he was going to do with the fat.

“Throw it away, general,” was the answer.

“Throw it away!--why?” said the General.

“I don’t know, sir, but we always do.”

“Why not use it?”--“The men don’t like it, sir.”

I observed that when the salt meat was cooked in the small canteen pans, the fat was lost for want of the necessary quantity of water to allow it to rise to the surface, as well as to purify it of the salt. Asking the man for a leaden spoon and a tin can, I removed the fat as I had before done in the Guards’ camp. On weighing it the next day, I found upwards of 14lbs. of beautiful clean and sweet dripping, fit for use as described in the receipts. Thus about 800lbs. of this were wasted weekly by each regiment--salt rations being issued four days a week.

General Garrett expressed a decided opinion that my apparatus was much superior to the old canteen pan, and gave me a letter, which I append in the Addenda.

The signature of the treaty of peace changed all the proceedings in the camp, except mine; for in anticipation of the distribution of the remainder of the stoves among the various regiments in the camps at Aldershot barracks, &c., as well as to those on foreign stations, I continued my daily course of instruction, in order that the men, upon arrival at home or elsewhere, might be well acquainted with their use, and be able to impart their knowledge to others. I have since hit upon a plan by which I shall introduce an oven and steamer, and thus do all that is required to vary the cooking of the daily meals in barracks--a subject of great importance.

War having ceased, the camp bore the appearance of a monster banqueting-hall. “We have done fighting,” said every one, “so let us terminate the campaign by feasting, lay down our victorious but murderous weapons, and pick up those more useful and restorative arms--the knife and fork.”

All appeared to have caught a giving-parties mania. You could scarcely meet a friend or even a slight acquaintance without being apostrophized by, “When will you dine with me?” as regularly as though it had been inserted in the order of the day. The first invitation I received was from the witty General Barnard, who so generously entertained his friends, under the superintendence of his major-domo, Captain Barnard (the gallant general’s son). A good table, good wine, and plenty of everything, or at least the best that could be obtained, were provided; and no less than five times had I the honour of being invited to enjoy the noble general’s good cheer. Next came invitations from my noble friend and neighbour, General Garrett, Lord W. Paulet, Colonel de Bathe, Colonel Peel, Major Fielden, Lord Vane, Lord Dunkellin, and the great epicure of epicures, Colonel Haley, of the 47th, &c., &c.; to each and all of whom I cannot but feel grateful--not alone for their liberal welcome, but also for the honour of having been admitted to their friendship.

I could do no less than return the compliment, which was of course expected from me, the Gastronomic Regenerator. The first dinner I gave was honoured by the presence of the following gentlemen--viz., Lord William Paulet, Gen. Garrett, Gen. Wyndham, Gen. Barnard, Col. Halliwell, Col. R. Campbell (90th), Col. Haley (47th), Major Earle, Major Dallas, Captain Barnard, &c.

The bill of fare was as follows:--

Potage à la Codrington. Filet de turbot clouté à la Balaklava.

* * * * *

Quartier de mouton à la bretonne. Poulets à la tartarine.

* * * * *

Queues de bœuf à la ravigotte. Cotelettes de mouton à la vivandière. Rissolettes de volaille à la Pelissier. Filet de bœuf pique mariné, sauce poivrade.

* * * * *

La mayonnaise à la russe, garnis de cavea.

* * * * *

Les plum-puddings à la Cosaque. Les haricots verds à la poulette. Les gelées de citron garni. Les croutes à l’abricot.

La bombe glacé à la Sebastopol.

* * * * *

HORS-D’ŒUVRES.

Les anchoix--sardines--lamproies à l’huile--mortadelle de Vérone--olives farcies--thon--cornichons à l’estragon--salade--legumes--dessert--café--liqueurs.

Though there was nothing very recherché in the dinner, it met with the approval of all the guests. The appearance of my humble but originally-decorated hut, profusely lit up with wax lights, and a rather nicely laid-out table, surrounded by military men of high standing, in their various uniforms, was exceedingly novel. The occasion formed quite an epoch in my life, and I shall probably never again have the honour of entertaining such a distinguished circle under similar circumstances. Encouraged by this my first success, I felt in duty bound to continue the series of these petites fêtes Anacréontiques, at which were assembled wit, mirth, good appetite, and delightful harmony. Amateur artistes of no little note, who had emerged triumphant from the murky atmosphere produced by the incessant bombardment of Sebastopol, were there. By their exertions the barriers of freedom and civilization were opened to all, and the autocrat Czar was compelled to submit. Those who but a few days before had been enemies were now friends. In fact, the war had ceased, and peace, that mother of sociability, offered her delights freely to all. Care seemed banished from every brow, excepting the sincere regret devoted to the memory of those brave men who had so nobly died for the glory of their country. In addition to the theatres, which had amused the camp throughout the winter, madrigal and glee clubs were instituted. At one of my petits dîners (at which the filet de bœuf pique mariné was duly discussed and highly praised by my Epicurean guests) the leader of the madrigal club, Colonel de Bathe, proposed that, as I had the largest and most convenient hut for the purpose, besides being well provided with culinary as well as table utensils, as a finale, and to crush the last vestige of sorrow in every one’s heart on account of this memorable war, I should give a dinner-party, after which the whole of the members of the Crimean Madrigal Club would harmoniously close the evening with a concert. The proposition was unanimously agreed to. I promised my guests to do my best to close the season of war by producing an excellent gastronomic popotte. A general invitation was given, and the day fixed.

When General Lüders courteously invited the French and English generals to honour him with their presence at his famed camp on the well-known Mackenzie Heights, the invitation was accepted for the following day. Everybody was anxious to go, and the invitation being a general one, lucky were they who had heard of it. The next day a stream of general officers of the Allied armies poured towards the Tchernaya Bridge. This was our first friendly meeting with those who had so bravely defended themselves and sacrificed their blood in defence of the national cause: General Lüders himself had lost two of his sons in the battle-field. The reception was grand and interesting, the review imposing, the lunch excellent, the bizarrerie of some very eccentric performance by the Cossacks highly amusing, the weather very fine, and the welcome joyous and hearty. It showed what marvels could be produced by a few strokes from a pen guided by a powerful and prudent hand. Only a few days before, the soil upon which we were treading peacefully was trodden by these same human beings with hearts full of revenge, thirst of blood, and destruction. In place of these, good understanding, as if by magic, restored to each heart the feelings of humanity and religion. Thousands of enemies were in a few minutes changed to hospitable friends. The hostile line of demarcation was now removed, and the camp of our late enemies free to all; and, instead of gaining inch by inch of ground by the sweat of the brow and waste of blood and life, there was welcome for all. Such was the effect produced upon my mind by the advent of peace, after that memorable and sanguinary Eastern war, through which I thank God for sparing my life during my humble mission, in the prosecution of which I had the honour of witnessing the finale of that great European question, in which the honour and glory of mighty nations were deeply involved.

After this solemn day of reception, the fusion of the armies took place. Our camp was invaded by Russians, as theirs was by our men. The works and fortifications, as well as Bakschiserai, Simpheropol, Perekop, &c. &c., were immediately taken without bloodshed. The popping of the well-corked champagne had replaced the monstrous and unsociable voice of the cannon. The sparkling liquid, poured in tin pots or cups--anything but crystal champagne-glasses--seemed to unite all hearts. All the taverns, hotels, inns, huts, marquees, bell tents, &c., had their visitors; and no people more than the Russians proved their immediate attachment to us, by making it a rule not to disoblige any one who asked the favour of their company. Rather than do this, they preferred staying a week, a fortnight, or even a month. This I, as well as some of my friends, had the felicity of experiencing, as often the whole family--father, mother, sons and daughters, horse, cart, and dogs included--would take up their residence with one. Most of us made a pilgrimage to Bakschiserai, Simpheropol, Yalta, and other places, after the proclamation of peace; and, to the honour and credit of the inhabitants, all were received with a cordial welcome, after being first introduced to the governor of the city. Freely indeed was their hospitality bestowed, and it was our duty to return the compliment by an invitation to our camp, which seldom failed to be accepted, and shortly after put in execution, after the style above mentioned.

Justice must also be done to the Tartar families whom we visited, for their liberality and friendship. I never saw a man more put out than one near Bakschiserai on an occasion when a friend and myself had entered a house in order to obtain some refreshment. We there found a very numerous family, among which were three small children, from three to ten years of age. The father, who was an old man, made us understand by telegraphic signs, à la Tartare, that he, and he alone, was the father, which we had not the slightest objection to believe. Two rather good-looking girls, also daughters, waited attentively upon us, and in less than ten minutes a frugal repast was offered. The old man and his rather young wife gave us to understand that they had laid before us the best they had, for which we, by telegraphic signs, made them comprehend that we were quite pleased and very grateful. When we had satisfied our appetites, we made ready to start, and offered to pay for the accommodation we had received: but scarcely had the English sovereign fallen upon the stone slab before the old father, who was nursing the two youngest scions of his race upon his knees, than he rose up with a spring, dropped the children on the floor, and stroking his long white hair with one hand, made a sign for the sovereign to be immediately returned to the pocket with the other, as if he feared that the heaven towards which his eyes were directed would punish him for violating the laws of hospitality if he accepted the money. We did as he desired, and peace and friendship were at once restored. It was a scene worthy of the Dame Blanche of Boieldieu, taken from Sir Walter Scott’s Monastery, where the Highland farmer says to travellers like ourselves, “The Scotch mountaineers dispense their hospitality, but never sell it.”

Soon after this charming incident had occurred, we left our generous host and his fine family in their peaceable dwelling. This love of hospitality did not prevail amongst the retail dealers, who, on the contrary, endeavoured to fleece visitors in every possible way, as if anxious to get one’s skin in order to sell it for what it would fetch. As curiosity had allured us thus far into the bowels of the land, and as we were not particular about trifles, even in money matters, on this auspicious occasion, these human vultures were permitted to gorge themselves at our expense and that of our pockets. Champagne was sold at a pound and more the bottle, stout at ten shillings, and everything else at the same exorbitant rate, but by way of compensation all was of an inferior quality.

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XXXIII. HOSTILITIES AT TABLE

Culinary education of the soldier-pupils--Meeting with Miss Nightingale--Reforms in the hospitals--Testimonials--Miss Nightingale’s carriage rescued--That lady’s exertions--Her faith--General Lüders’s visits--Marshal Pelissier--Grand ceremonies--Trip to Yalta--The Alar--A peculiar position--Rescued at last--A pleasant excursion--Prince Woronzoff’s palace--Dinner at sea--Outside the harbour--The banquet--Wanted at head-quarters--A new dish--“The great Macédoine à l’Alexandre II., or the Contrast of Peace and War”--Decorations--Reviews--The festival--Reflections.

As two or three months had still to elapse before the final evacuation of the Crimea took place, I employed the interval in completing the culinary education of my soldier-pupils, anxious that they might be able to confer the benefit of my instructions upon others, when the remainder of the stoves should be issued either at home or abroad. By the aid of my receipts, which were to be printed upon parchment, framed, and hung up in every barrack kitchen, the cooks could not fail in the proper performance of their duties. I very much regret that, owing to some misunderstanding, one or two regiments did not receive my personal attendance, though I believe they had the stoves. To the colonels of those regiments I beg to offer this as an apology for the apparent neglect, which I assure those gentlemen I can only attribute to some oversight on the part of those I employed to see the stoves shifted from one regiment to the other. It was no easy matter to traverse such an immense space of ground, upon which above forty regiments were encamped; and the difficulty was increased by my having to deal with different persons in each. Although I had several of my own men to go about and assist me, I was the responsible person; and all I have to say is, that from six or seven in the morning till night, their humble servant was on horseback, reviewing his various regiments, which, for a bad cavalier, was a great exertion, especially after so severe an illness. Yet to that exertion I believe I owe my recovery, as it enabled me gradually to get the better of a most violent attack of dysentery, which had at one time reduced me so low, that the following civilian doctors, who were my neighbours at Scutari--viz., Messrs. Burn, Howard, and Fraser--were almost inclined to give me up.

Upon my arrival at Balaklava I met Miss Nightingale, who had left Scutari a few days previous to my departure from that place, in order to take the management of two new hospitals, under the superintendence of Dr. Taylor, my Scutari culinary friend. He told me that, to his sorrow, he had completely failed in the construction of the kitchen in those Crimean hospitals, on account of not being able to obtain the necessary utensils, &c. I immediately proposed to set this to rights for him, as I had to build two new extra-diet kitchens at Miss Nightingale’s request. Dr. Taylor accepted my offer, and in less than a week both kitchens were satisfactorily completed, and they were also in full activity. In the extra-diet kitchens Miss Nightingale’s new stoves were adopted. The establishment called the Left Wing Hospital was in charge of the Sisters of Charity; the other, called the Right Wing, in that of Miss Stuart, a most excellent lady, and although of high family, subordinate to Miss Nightingale. During a period of six months, she rendered the greatest service, by ably assisting that lady in her exertions.

I substituted my caldrons for the old ones in the large hospital kitchens. Slight wooden sheds were built to shelter them; and the establishments, at last complete, formed two of the most elegant, cleanly, and useful hospital kitchens in the camp--burning but little wood, instead of always running short, as was the case when the common caldrons, placed upon two stones in a dark stone building which could never be kept clean, were in use. They met with the approval of both Drs. Hall and Taylor. I explained to these gentlemen, that with those stoves and a few planks, an excellent hospital or camp-kitchen could easily be made, instead of the very inferior ones before in use; and that for an army of a hundred thousand men or more, it would only be necessary to increase the number, as the stoves would never get out of repair, and might easily be carried with the army, either on mules, or by any other conveyance which the Land Transport Corps might adopt.

The two following letters confirm the truth of my assertions. The one is from Miss Nightingale, and the other from Dr. Taylor:--

SCUTARI BARRACK HOSPITAL, July 28th, 1856.

I have great pleasure in bearing my testimony to the very essential usefulness of Monsieur Soyer, who, first in the General Hospitals of Scutari, and afterwards in the Camp Hospitals of the Crimea, both general and regimental, restored order where all was unavoidable confusion, as far as he was individually able,--took the soldiers’ rations and patients’ diets as they were, and converted them into wholesome and agreeable food.

I have tried his stoves in the Crimean hospitals where I have been employed, and found them answer every purpose of economy and efficiency.

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.

Monsieur Soyer’s cooking-stoves have been solely used in the Right and Left Wing Hospitals, Light Infantry Corps, during the last three months for the regimental hospital diets, for which they are admirably adapted as regards despatch, cleanliness, and economy.

G. TAYLOR, M.D., S. Surgeon, 1st Class.

Crimea, 5th July, 1856.

It was on the way to these hospitals that the vehicle conveying Miss Nightingale and her nurses was upset, and they all had a most miraculous escape. It was drawn by a mule, and no doubt driven by a donkey, who drove over a large stone, and thus caused the accident.

One of the nurses was severely wounded. After this accident, Colonel Macmurdo gave Miss Nightingale the carriage, a sketch of which appeared in the Illustrated London News of the 30th August, 1856. Upon leaving the Crimea, after a long search, I succeeded in rescuing it from the hands of some Tartar Jews, as I considered it a precious relic for present and future generations. The Jews were going to purchase it the next day among a lot of common carts, harness, horses, &c. I called upon Colonel Evans, of the Light Infantry Corps, and spoke to him upon the subject, when he kindly allowed me to purchase it. I sent it to England by the Argo, and the sketch was taken on board that ship by Landells, the artist of that journal. It arrived and was safely landed at Southampton; and Mr. Andrews, the mayor of that city, very kindly allowed the carriage to remain in his warehouse till my return to England.

The extraordinary exertions Miss Nightingale imposed upon herself after receiving this carriage would have been perfectly incredible, if not witnessed by many and well ascertained. I can vouch for the fact, having frequently accompanied her to the hospitals as well as to the monastery. The return from these places at night was a very dangerous experiment, as the road led across a very uneven country. It was still more perilous when snow was upon the ground. I have seen that lady stand for hours at the top of a bleak rocky mountain near the hospitals, giving her instructions, while the snow was falling heavily. I observed this to the Rev. Mr. Holt, who accompanied her almost daily as her clerical orderly, as he called himself, and he admitted that it was very imprudent on her part. All one could say to her on the subject was so kindly received, that you concluded you had persuaded her to take more care of herself. Yet she always went on in the same way, having probably forgotten good advice in her anxiety for the comfort of the sick.

I often warned her of the danger she incurred in returning so late at night, with no other escort than the driver. She answered by a smile, which seemed to say, “You may be right, but I have faith.” So impressed was I with a sense of the magnitude of the danger she was daily incurring, that I addressed a letter to a noble duchess, who, I knew, had much influence with her.

It was reported that the Russian general, Lüders, intended to pay Marshal Pelissier a visit at the French head-quarters, and that the general and his Staff were to be received at the Tchernaya Bridge at seven in the morning. As I had that day to go to the Highland Brigade at Kamara, accompanied by one of my cooks, we started at five; and after receiving the popottes at the various regiments, I left my artiste and galloped to the bridge.

I found about thirty thousand troops drawn up in line, extending from the bridge to General Pelissier’s head-quarters. After the salvo of artillery, a most warm reception was given by General MacMahon to General Lüders, both commanders-in-chief remaining at the French head-quarters to receive him. The cavalcade, consisting of French and Russians, set off at a hard gallop along the line of French troops, which extended about four miles. The discharges of cannon and the firing of musketry never ceased. The day was a brilliant one, and the sun’s rays glittered upon the helmets, swords, cuirasses, and bayonets, reflecting myriads of diamonds in the air. The various uniforms of the Staff which accompanied General Lüders, and in particular that of the Cosaques du Don, gave to this martial and animated scene an éclat hardly ever witnessed even at the grandest review, which is generally held on a flat surface, this being cheerfully accidented by hillock and dale. On such occasions, the army is generally formed in square, instead of being in a long line eight files deep on one side only, as on the occasion to which I now refer. The reception by General Pelissier was brilliant, and worthy of that offered to him on the Mackenzie Heights a few days previous.

Amongst the excursions we had projected was one which had been some time pending. It was to be a trip to Yalta by water, where we intended to spend a couple of days. A vessel had been provided, the provisions were ordered, and guests in abundance were invited. A series of fine days had followed, and the whole management was placed in the hands of the person with whom the idea of the excursion originated, the Rev. Mr. Parker. What man amongst the numbers in the Crimea did not know that distinguished, enterprising, and worthy man? His fame extended far and wide, and he was equally celebrated for his benevolence and intelligence; and he never saw a difficulty in anything he undertook, from the building of a church to an hospital, a hut, kitchen, or an ice-house. Workmen and materials were found by him, people hardly knew how or where. Under his clerical wand, wooden palaces were erected, not without difficulty, but still the work was accomplished. If any good provisions arrived in the harbour, the worthy minister was the first to hear of it, and, to oblige his friends, made all inquiries and obtained every information respecting price and quality. Like all clever men, he was fond of good living, and was not at all a bad judge of the good things of this life. It was during the time that he officiated at Balaklava, that the church, which once had the appearance of a barn, was changed into a handsome religious edifice. Sebastopol had fallen, and, as a trophy, one of the bells of the Greek church ornamented his building, and called the faithful to their duty as regularly as the peal of any parish church. He was, in fact, the perfection of the aumônier du régiment; but, as in the case of all great geniuses, now and then, success was followed by failure, and victory by defeat--which the following will prove.

The day for the excursion had been fixed, postponed, and was again decided upon. For this change of plan I cannot account; no doubt it was owing to some unavoidable cause. At length the day was finally settled; there was to be no more postponing--off we must go. Our vessel was called the Alar, and she belonged to Mr. Crockford. As she was very small and short of accommodation, she was soon filled above and below. The evening before we were to start, the news of a great event for the following day was published in General Orders. It was to the effect that General Lüders would honour General Codrington with his presence at a grand review. This favour was not so highly appreciated by the nautical tourists as by their gallant Commander-in-chief, as at that time it materially interfered with their anticipated excursion. At all events, a serious discussion took place as to whether the excursion would or would not be postponed on that account. The answer “would not!” resounded in the camp from regiment to regiment, like a mot d’ordre, and the final order to all was, not to be on board a minute after eight o’clock; but the Alar, by way of punctuality, started at half-past seven. I sent two of my cooks to the vessel, but they never saw anything of the boat. A few minutes before eight o’clock, the Rev. Mr. Parker, myself, and others, got into a Maltese boat to join the steamer; instead of which, the steamer joined us. Not thanking either the Alar nor her captain for their trouble in coming to us instead of allowing us to go to them, the reverend gentleman and three more bravely boarded her, and in so doing kicked our bark away, and left us, in consequence of the swell caused by the motion of the paddle-wheels, very unsafely dancing an entirely new hornpipe in the harbour of Balaklava. At last, by the assistance of a large wave which nearly capsized us all, I managed to get hold of the man-rope by one hand; this happened to be the left one, so I could not raise myself on board, and there I was left hanging over the infuriated waves, the vessel all the while increasing her speed. As a precaution in walking through the wet fields, I had put on my India-rubber boots, which dipping in the water, soon became as slippery as a second-hand leech which will not take or bite at anything. The confusion on board the vessel, already a wreck, having been just dismasted in a serious collision with a larger steamer, prevented the people on board from perceiving my perilous position. My strength was rapidly becoming exhausted, and I must in a second or two have fallen into the water, when a reverend gentleman, whose name I regret to say I cannot recall, saw the imminent danger in which I was placed, and rescued me. Thanks to his assistance, I managed to lay hold of another rope with my right hand. I fancied I could travel miles in that position, it appeared to be so safe. Other assistance arrived, and a few minutes after I was hauled upon deck, scrambling amongst the wreck and loose ropes. A friendly voice addressed me with, “Hallo, Soyer! you are behind time.”

I replied, “I should have preferred being later still, and not have come at all.”

When the incident was known on board, it caused much merriment among our fellow-adventurers. As we were going on pleasure, all were allowed to laugh at the various adventures, as well as misadventures, of the party so I laughed, and all laughed, soon afterwards, and very heartily. We were no sooner out of the harbour, than the good ship Alar, which had not received her proper quantum of breakfast or ballast in her wooden or iron stomach, began her hanky-panky rolling tricks, which never ceased from the time we started till our return. Breakfast was ready and upon the table; but, for some unaccountable reason, no one appeared ready for breakfast. As we were out upon a pleasure excursion, each person was at liberty to enjoy himself in his own way. Some did this by remaining upon deck, others by looking overboard, &c., till at length the generous sun, taking pity upon us, threw out his beams and guided us round the beautiful rocky coast of the Balaklava and Lukan shores. A few glasses of champagne were circulated, healths were pledged, and everything got cheerful and lively; and the joy had even extended to some of the ladies on board.

Indeed, reader, I have not yet had time to introduce our fair companions to your notice; but I will do so shortly. Some of them actually went so far as to ask me what I thought was good for dinner. “Upon my word,” said I to my fair interlocutor, “I do not know what will be good, madam, but I’ll tell you what will be bad. Look behind you at that black cloud which seems to follow us so closely: I have no doubt that is a squall coming, which will soon spoil our bill of fare as well as our appetites.”

In about half-an-hour we came in sight of the beautiful Palace of Lukan, belonging to Prince Woronzoff. A short time before, we had anticipated landing and being able to dine in the gardens. This was rendered impossible, as the weather had assumed a very tempestuous aspect, and bore every appearance of a violent storm. Many began to think of a second wreck, and quite lost the idea of dining. The steamer was put about in a very unsociable gale of wind, which, thank God, dropped shortly after, and allowed us, after several attempts, to return safely to our harbour. This, considering the state the Alar was in after the accident she had met with, she ought not to have left, especially upon a pleasure-trip.

My friend, Mr. Frederick Crockford, who so kindly lent his boat, assisted me, and we set to work during our stormy return to prepare the dinner, which we had decided should be got ready, although almost every one on board was ill. So we began our fantastic and gymnastic culinary exertions by looking up the stores; and by dint of a wonderful amount of animal and physical perseverance, we managed to dish up two turkeys, a number of fowls, hams, roast lamb, tongues, roast beef, plum-puddings, salad, dessert, &c. &c., and cut bread enough for more than à discrétion. The reader will please to observe that it was by this time late in the afternoon, and the Alar sylph was rolling quite sufficiently to prevent any willing turkey from remaining upon the dish, when a tremendous wave came to its aid, and sent three parts of our luxuries rolling about the cabin-floor, breaking no end of plates, dishes, bottles, glasses, &c. Fortunately, our dinner was not lost, as we knew where it was--rolling to and fro on the wet cabin-floor, playing at the don’t-you-wish-you-may-get-me game. Mr. Crockford and myself had succeeded in making a semi-monster lobster salad, which for safety he had held on to all the time, almost at the peril of his valuable life, he being knocked about fearfully against the cabin-boards and bulkheads. At last we made the harbour. It was nearly dusk; and not being expected back so soon, nor even the next day, we were kept dancing for above an hour at the entrance. No doubt, this was done to sharpen our appetites.

A rumour was circulated that we should not be allowed to enter at all, the Alar being a merchant-vessel. This was our fate till about six o’clock, when signals were made for her to enter. We availed ourselves of this permission, and in twenty minutes the two large tables were set out à la marinière. Everybody was glad to partake of the most welcome repast ever bestowed upon a party after the enjoyment of so charming a day of pleasure. The salade mayonnaise was voted excellent. Champagne was gaily flowing in bowls, basins, teacups, goblets, &c. Healths were proposed; her Majesty’s first--next that of the Allied armies--then that of the Emperor of the French, Mr. Crockford’s and mine, in honour of the salade mayonnaise; and a vote of thanks was returned to the Rev. Mr. Parker, for the extremely pleasant day he had been the cause of our enjoying, especially the dinner in the harbour he had so well provided, which soon made us forget our nautical tribulations.

I have almost forgotten the members of the fair sex, whose health was proposed in the first place. They had been very ill all day. About eleven, all, except myself, had left the Alar in the full conviction of having enjoyed themselves very much indeed. Among the party, which would have been far too numerous, had not circumstances prevented many of those invited from making their appearance, were Commissary Drake, lady and daughter; Mr. and Mrs. Burnett. Lady Seymour and friend, who were to accompany the party, did not come. This is the sum-total of the ladies present, which for the Crimea was a very fair array of the beau sexe. As it was impossible for me to return to camp that evening, the captain and Mr. Crockford offered me a bed on board. I of course jumped at the offer. About one o’clock we were drinking a parting glass, when a boat was heard approaching the vessel, and a voice called out--

“Alar ahoy! Is Monsieur Soyer still on board?”

“Yes,” was the answer.

In a few seconds, a gentleman, whom I recognised as my friend Captain Brown of the Ottowa, stepped on board.

“Hallo, captain!” I exclaimed, “what ever has brought you on board at this time of night?”

“I will tell you. They have sent for you from head-quarters, and you have been sought in all directions. Captain Ponsonby has been looking everywhere for you. A grand déjeûner is to be given to-morrow in honour of General Lüders’ visit. I happened to hear of it where I dined and knowing the Alar had returned with you on board, I have come to inform you that your aid is required. By the bye, you were suspended a long time this morning between wind and water: I made so sure you could not hold on much longer, that I had one of my sailors ready to jump over and pick you up.”

“Thanks, captain, for two eminent services in one day. I cannot, however, go to head-quarters till morning, as I have no pony at Balaklava.”

“All right,” said he. “Call upon Major Ross in the morning; he will let you have all you require.”

“At daybreak I will be there.”

“Mind, the lunch is to be ready at two o’clock.”

“I shall not be able to assist much, as there will hardly be time to turn round. However, good-night, captain, and a thousand thanks.”

“I’m off in a few hours for Constantinople,” he called out from his boat, “and shall be back in a week. Good-bye.”

The sentinels, as usual, cried--“All’s well.” I must say, I did not think it was all well with me. “What can I do,” said I to myself, “for an event of historical importance?” Neither Mr. Crockford nor the captain could assist me, when an idea struck me:--“If you can’t give me an idea,” said I to my friends, “at any rate lend me a dish.”

“That I will,” said the captain.

“Recollect, I want a large one.”

“You had the largest for your salad yesterday.”

“That one will do; it will hold enough for twenty-five persons.

“Then here goes,” said I, writing. “To-day I shall dress in it the Macédoine Lüdersienne à l’Alexandre II.”

“A very good name in honour of the event,” said Mr. Crockford. “But pray, of what is it to be composed?”

“Oh! for that,” said I, “if I were to implore the Genius of Gastronomy, from Lucullus to Apicius and Vitellius, or Vatel to Ude and Carême, I could get nothing from them but inspiration; while what I require is something substantial, and not artificial. It strikes me that a word from you to your head man at Kadikoi (as you will not be there to-morrow) would do more for me in a few minutes than the whole of those defunct celebrities, whom I am not now inclined to trouble upon so material a subject. Pray give me carte blanche to get anything you may have and I require for the composition of this modern Babylon, which must be constructed upon a base sufficiently strong to resist the joint attack of the heads of three of the most powerful armies in the world, and only be destroyed after having conquered the conqueror’s place d’armes, the stomach, so called in military parlance.”

The order was readily given by my friend Mr. Crockford, and we then lay down to sleep, being both completely exhausted with the fatigues of what was called a day of pleasure. We had hardly closed our eyelids, when morning caused them to be reopened; so up we got. My friend started for Constantinople, and I for head-quarters. On my way I called upon Major Ross, who kindly lent me a pony, and told me of the message left with him. I started immediately--bought a few things in Balaklava market--called at Crockford’s store at Donnybrook, which I ransacked and despoiled of condiments of every description. Instead of going direct to head-quarters, I changed my mind and went home to prepare, having decided, as the time was so short, to produce one good dish only, instead of several small and insignificant ones. This was, however, to be worthy of the occasion. I was well aware that General Codrington’s cook, under the liberal management and command of Captain Ponsonby, would turn out something worthy of the event. Upon arriving at my hut, I sent two of my cooks to assist him, despatched my groom on horseback to Kamiesch for various things, and then began the construction of my Lüdersienne upon the lid of my new field-stoves, the dish I had brought from the Alar being too small.

My novel dish was completed, and carried to head-quarters by two soldiers; and at a quarter to two I personally placed my culinary wonder upon the table. It was called

SOYER’S CULINARY EMBLEM OF PEACE,

The Macédoine Lüdersienne à l’Alexandre II.

This monster dish was composed of--

12 boxes of preserved lobsters 2 cases “ lampreys 2 cases “ sardines 2 bottles “ anchovies 1 case “ caviar 1 case “ sturgeon 1 case “ thunny 2 cases “ oysters 1 pound of fresh prawns 4 pounds turbot clouté 12 Russian pickled cucumbers 4 bottles “ olives 1 bottle mixed pickles 1 bottle Indian ditto 1 bottle pickled French beans 2 bottles “ mushrooms ⅓ bottle “ mangoes 2 bottles of pickled French truffles 2 cases of preserved peas 2 cases “ mixed vegetables 4 dozen cabbage lettuces 100 eggs 2 bottles of preserved cockscombs.

The sauce was composed of six bottles of salad oil, one of Tarragon vinegar, half a bottle of Chili vinegar, two boxes of preserved cream (whipped), four ounces of sugar, six eschalots, salt, cayenne pepper, mustard, and a quarter of an ounce of Oriental herbs which are quite unknown in England.

The dining-room, decorated under the artistic superintendence of Captain Ponsonby, presented a ravishing ensemble well adapted to the occasion. It was hung, ceiling and all, with the Allied flags, to which the Russian standard, so long absent, had been happily reinstated in the bond of friendship and civilization. Those few pieces of printed cloth spoke volumes to my mind. These adopted colours of different nations had not waved together for a long while, and their playful movements, caused by a fresh breeze, which seemed to have purified itself in passing swiftly over the cheerful vineyard attached to head-quarters, pleased me very much.[25] The god of war had put his seal and autograph upon them, just in the same manner as we see a name upon a bank-note, which only acquires value from national convenience and conventionality. Still these rags, which the will of mighty empires had favoured with their high regard, were so proud of their post, that they appeared to float and flutter in the air with more grandeur than a common piece of stuff just brought from the loom, as was the case with them before their glorious national christening, would have done. They appeared as proud and superior to their brothers and sisters as a race-horse is to one of his less fortunate fellows--a cart-horse.

I was left almost alone in that ever-memorable spot (every one having gone to the review), giving the last coup-d’œil, with Captain Ponsonby and the maître d’hôtel, to the well-provided table. The illustrious guests were momentarily expected. Volumes, indeed, could I read in those printed sheets--symbols and emblems of glory. Upon them seemed engraved, in letters of gold, “L’union fait la force,” and “Regeneration instead of destruction!” Such were my sentiments on that memorable occasion. The world at large was interested in this mighty fusion; the end of this grand drama I could plainly read, though merely printed upon pieces of common calico.

Professionally, I was doubly proud of the honour of contributing my mite of industry to this California of grandeur and great events. My monster Macédoine was placed in the centre of the table, and, though only a few persons were present, was much admired. “In a few minutes,” said I to myself, “those great men whose names are echoed and re-echoed throughout the world by the trumpet-blast of fame will be here, not only gazing upon my impromptu chef-d’œuvre, but, I hope, also freely partaking of it--and, while enjoying the pleasures of the table, cementing the sentiments of peace and of friendship.”

So much was my mind absorbed by the superficial, that I had almost forgotten the material. The words, “the review is over, and the generals are coming,” recalled my wandering senses. A gorgeous cavalcade was seen approaching, headed by four generals-in-chief in full uniform, and their respective Staffs, wearing their decorations, followed by above thirty generals. A few minutes after, I was attending upon Generals Pelissier, Lüders, and Sir W. Codrington, who were sitting together--General Pelissier on the left and General Lüders on the right of Sir William. The following persons were sitting at the same table:--General della Marmora and Sir Colin Campbell were facing; and at the same table sat Admiral Freemantle; Generals MacMahon, Martinprey, Wyndham, Garrett, Barnard, Lord Rokeby, Lord W. Paulet, Cameron; Colonels Scariatini and M. Amazzoff, aides-de-camp to General Lüders; and the aides of the other generals.

My anticipations were realized; for no sooner had the guests taken their seats than the conversation became more animated. I had placed at the apex of my pyramidal Macédoine a small card, with the dedication written upon it. Sir W. Codrington handed it to General Lüders, who, after showing it to several of his suite, requested permission to keep it as a reminiscence of the day. This request was granted by Sir William with a smile.

The entreés, roasts, and the entremêts had been handed round, and a serious attack upon my Lüdersienne commenced, almost every guest partaking of it twice. Captain Ponsonby requested me to remove it, as several gentlemen at the other table wished to taste it. General Pelissier, with whom I had the honour of conversing longer than with any one else, was in an excellent humour, and full of that vivacity and wit so characteristic. He bantered me several times for not having stoned the olives which formed part of the Macédoine. I told him that time would not permit of this, as I had received such short notice of the banquet, and that I went the evening before on an excursion by water to Lukan. At the same time, I expressed my regret to Sir William at not being at home when sent for.

“Never mind, Monsieur Soyer,” replied Sir William. “I am, at all events, very happy to see you here, and thank you kindly for your exertions.”

General Pelissier again addressed me: “You may say what you like, Monsieur Soyer, but you might as well have stoned the olives.”

“Very true, general, if time had allowed. It is all very well for you to take the Malakhoff in a few minutes, but it took me four hours to make that dish.” At which reply he could not help laughing.

“Your friend General Barnard,” said he, pointing to that officer, who was sitting at the bottom of the table, “would like to taste it. Go and offer him some.”

I did so; but the general had been served. I then made a tour round the table, asking each guest, above thirty in number, whether he had been attended to.

The time was getting short, and another review--that of the English army--had to come off. The iced champagne had performed a grand rôle during the repast; all seemed highly gratified and full of animation. What a burst of enthusiasm was elicited when General Lüders rose, and proposed the health of her Majesty the Queen of England and that of the French Emperor! which enthusiasm was renewed when Sir William Codrington responded by proposing that of the Emperor Alexander.

The mot d’ordre was given, and all were soon mounted, and proceeded to the review, at which, having terminated my culinary duties, I assisted as a spectator, arriving just time enough to have a glance at the spectacle, which to my mind was superior in point of effect to that of the magnificent French army in the morning. It was in a splendid square; while the French army, though more numerous, being in a line, covered more ground, but produced less effect. I remarked this to General della Marmora, with whom I was conversing. He seemed to be of my opinion. The Scotch, with their bagpipes merrily playing, were then filing past the Etat-Major, and the vibrating sounds of their wild mountain music impressed itself for ever on my ear. It was their last song on the Crimean shore. A few minutes more, and all was over. General Lüders entered his carriage, and started full gallop, followed by his Staff. General Codrington and suite lined the fields on either side the road along which the carriage passed. On reaching the Balaklava road, which crosses the high mountain leading to the Guards’ camp, the Russian general made a full stop; so did Sir W. Codrington and suite. They bade each other adieu; and after General Lüders had returned thanks for the excellent reception he had received, Sir William said, “I hope, general, you are not over-tired?”

“No, not at all, thank you. I only felt rather cold standing still during the last review.”

This was spoken in French.

The Russian cavalcade galloped away towards the Tchernaya, whilst the English returned to head-quarters.

It was getting quite dark; the weather, which had been so warm in the morning, turned very cold--the sky looked grey, and not a soul was to be seen. I ascended the rocky and steep mountain on horseback. A few minutes after, I was in lonely solitude on the top of the plateau. Not a sign, of life was to be seen or heard; graveyards alone ornamented this desolate spot.

“What a curious life mine is!” said I, musing. “Compare the last forty-eight hours with the time when I was hanging by one hand, suspended between life and death, from the man-rope of the Alar, in the harbour of Balaklava.” It reminded me of a rocket, which, while soaring brightly in its flight towards the sky, shines radiant for a few seconds only, and then vanishes in space.

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