Before Sevastopol,30th May, 1855.Sir,—I am directed by Lord Raglan to acknowledge the receipt of your several communications of the 25th and 28th instants, and to express to you his lordship’s thanks for the valuable information contained therein.I have the honor to be, Sir,Your obedient servant,Thos. Steele,Lieut.-Col., Military Sec.Mons. Soyer.
Before Sevastopol,30th May, 1855.
Sir,—I am directed by Lord Raglan to acknowledge the receipt of your several communications of the 25th and 28th instants, and to express to you his lordship’s thanks for the valuable information contained therein.
I have the honor to be, Sir,Your obedient servant,Thos. Steele,Lieut.-Col., Military Sec.
Mons. Soyer.
My dear Mr. Soyer,—I have this day received your letter of the 22nd June, and am much obliged to you for your thoughtful care of our wants in the all-important business of cooking for both sick and well. Our new hospital is nearly fit for the reception of patients; but you know how tedious the want of labor makes everything here. I was out at the Monastery yesterday, and was glad to see that they had commenced on the kitchen, and were going to fit it up after your excellent model at the Castle.Very truly yours,J. Hall.5th July, 1855.
My dear Mr. Soyer,—I have this day received your letter of the 22nd June, and am much obliged to you for your thoughtful care of our wants in the all-important business of cooking for both sick and well. Our new hospital is nearly fit for the reception of patients; but you know how tedious the want of labor makes everything here. I was out at the Monastery yesterday, and was glad to see that they had commenced on the kitchen, and were going to fit it up after your excellent model at the Castle.
Very truly yours,J. Hall.
5th July, 1855.
I also had several interviews with Dr. Mouatt, who took my suggestion during my absence in hand, but never apparently succeeded in carrying it out, although the materials requisite were simply planks, nails, and bricks.
I merely advert to the foregoing in answer to some observations that were wafted about the camp to the effect that I never took much trouble about this particular hospital, while in reality it was the very first which attracted my attention, as the above letters will convince my readers.
Upon our return from the hospital to head-quarters, I called at Colonel Steele’s. Lord Raglan was just going out, and the first question he asked, even before I had time to pay my respects, was—“How is poor Miss Nightingale?”
“A little better to-day. Dr. Henderson, whom I have just seen, says she has passed a better night.”
“Well, I hope she has; I shall pay her a visit as soon as possible—that is, when she is a little better. Was she ill at all at Scutari?”
“Not, my Lord, while I was there, and, I think, not before. It is rather remarkable that she should catch the Crimean fever just after her arrival.”
I told Lord Raglan of her imprudence in visiting a patient at Dr. Henderson’s, who had been attacked by the worst form of Crimean fever; also, of her remaining out so late, and not taking any refreshment.
“She appears,” said Lord Raglan, “to have no fear.”
“None whatever.”
I recounted her visit to the three-gun battery, and the scene that took place upon the centre mortar. LordRaglan remarked—“It should be called the Nightingale mortar.”
He then jumped upon his horse, and I had but a few minutes to explain the result of my visit with Dr. Hall to the various hospitals. I mentioned that the most important thing was the immediate erection of a kitchen for the General Hospital, in case of a decided attack upon Sebastopol.
“Very true, Monsieur Soyer,” said Lord Raglan.
I stated that I had addressed a letter to his lordship to that effect.
“Yes, I have seen it, and it shall be attended to.”
Lord Raglan and his staff then started in the direction of the French head-quarters, and I towards Balaklava, where I arrived about dusk. I left my pony at the General Hospital, and walked to the opposite side of the harbour, which I had in the morning left all in confusion, and, to my astonishment, found quiet and almost deserted. The only person I saw was Admiral Boxer, who came and thanked me for the assistance I had given him in the morning.
“Don’t mention it, admiral,” said I; “I shall at all times be happy to do everything in my power to render myself agreeable to you. Pray tell me, where are they all gone?”
“To their camp, to be sure.”
“What—regiments, horses, and all?”
“Yes, the vessels alongside this morning have not only discharged their cargoes, but are, I believe, out of the harbour and anchored in the bay. We shall have two more in, which must be discharged to-morrow.”
“This silence is almost inconceivable after so much noise and bustle.”
“It is,” said the admiral. “I don’t understand those Sardinians, they speak so fast and loud; but they are fine fellows for all that, and no mistake.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth, when two Sardinians attached to the commissariat came towards us, and inquired whether we understood French or Italian. I informed them that I spoke French.
“Then, pray, sir, can you tell us where to find ce diable d’amiral Anglais?”
“What do they say?” asked Admiral Boxer, addressing me.
“Nothing particular,” I replied. “Gentlemen,” said I, turning to the Sardinians, “what could the admiral do for you? It is very probable that I shall have the pleasure of seeing him this evening.”
The one who had as yet scarcely spoken exclaimed—“A truce to the pleasure! I wish I could get hold of him, I would tell him my mind in a few words.”
“Pray be calm, gentlemen.”
All this time Admiral Boxer kept asking—“What do they say? They are speaking about me, I know they are. Tell them they are a fine set of fellows, and I will do anything for them, but they must be out by to-morrow night.”
“Very well; but first let me inquire what the row is all about.”
“Do so.”
“Now, gentlemen, what is it you want? for here is a person who can do as much for you as the admiral himself, and perhaps more.”
“Ah, pray ask him, then.”
“But you have not yet told me what you require.”
“Eh bien!” they said, both speaking at once, “pray, my friend, ask this gentleman to tell the English admiral to postpone the order for our landing to-morrow morning till the next day. It is impossible for us to land our men and horses so early. We have above four hundred horses on board; not half of which have been watered to-day, nor can they be, till we find some water. There is only a small pump to draw it from the hold of the vessel, and it takes hours to water a few horses.”
Having explained this their chief trouble to the admiral, he said—“Tell them there will be plenty of water for them by four o’clock in the morning.”
When I had done so, they inquired whether they could depend upon that gentleman’s word. I assured them that they might.
“With respect to the other matters, we ought to see the admiral himself.”
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself; I will do the rest for you.”
This was merely a request concerning themselves. I did not like to trouble the admiral about it, and I thought the best way to get rid of them was to show them his flag-ship, telling them they might go there if they liked, but that it was a hundred to one if they found him on board.
“No, no!” said one of them; “it is dinner-time, and the English like their dinner too well; he is sure to be at home, so we will go and see.” Having their boat with them, they went across.
The admiral asked—“What do they want besides the water for their horses?”
“Oh, they were inquiring about the camp.”
I then related all our conversation, at which the admiral laughed heartily, saying he could understand some of it, but they spoke so very fast.
“When they come on board to-morrow, they will be sure to recognise me.”
“Oh no! having only seen you in the dark, they will not know you again; and I shall be there. Don’t trouble yourself; they will be quiet enough when they get all they want, and they have a very fine camp.”
“Have you seen it?”
“No, admiral, not yet.”
“Then you ought to go and see it; they are building a large hospital there. Mind, they have reason to complain. I am aware they ought to have more time; but see what a fleet I have in such a small harbour, and every day there are more troops coming. Perhaps an expedition of our own troops will sail shortly, so I must be prepared for everything. That is what has kept me on this side of the harbour to-night; besides, I wished to see how they were going on with the new quay.”
“You have done wonders, admiral, on this side of the harbour since my arrival.”
“Remember, Monsieur Soyer, we cannot always do as we like. We are not in England.” We parted for the night.
Dinner on board theBaraguay d’Hilliers—Bread-biscuit—Good news of Miss Nightingale—Operations at the Sanatorium kitchen—A borrowed pony—Don’t lose the saddle—No police nor newspapers—Difficulties at Balaklava—Dry vegetables in cake—A receipt—Promise of support—A new mother—Mrs. Seacole’s enthusiasm—The lady’s sons—Advice—My pony lost—A friend in need—Mr. Russell—Mr. Angel—CrimeanHue and Cry—Useless inquiries—Monsieur Armand’s difficulties—A dinner at the Post-office—A jovial party—Festivity and song—Break up at last.
Dinner on board theBaraguay d’Hilliers—Bread-biscuit—Good news of Miss Nightingale—Operations at the Sanatorium kitchen—A borrowed pony—Don’t lose the saddle—No police nor newspapers—Difficulties at Balaklava—Dry vegetables in cake—A receipt—Promise of support—A new mother—Mrs. Seacole’s enthusiasm—The lady’s sons—Advice—My pony lost—A friend in need—Mr. Russell—Mr. Angel—CrimeanHue and Cry—Useless inquiries—Monsieur Armand’s difficulties—A dinner at the Post-office—A jovial party—Festivity and song—Break up at last.
ONreaching theLondon, I found Mr. Bracebridge dressed and waiting for me to go and dine on board theBaraguay d’Hilliers, with Sir John Macneil and Captain Tulloch. We had that evening a most interesting conversation on all kinds of army stores and provisions. Sir John, who took a vital interest in my mission, gave me several important hints, and I submitted my opinion of the salt as well as fresh meats—fresh and dried vegetables, and especially the bread, which at that period arrived daily from Constantinople, but which, in consequence of its being sometimes put on board ship before it had got quite cool, lost a great deal of its nutritive quality during the passage. Had it been made in the Crimea of the same materials, it would have been very good. I was informed that bakeries were to be established. I told Sir John that I had made a kind of bread-biscuit, somewhat like common bread, but baked in flat cakes about twelve times the size of an ordinary biscuit; it would keep for months, and then eat well, though rather dry; it would soak well in tea, coffee, or soup, and be very palatable; it was made of three parts flour and one of peameal, andwas reported upon by the medical gentlemen as being very nutritious and wholesome. A few days later I had the pleasure of showing some to those gentlemen, and they both highly approved of it. I afterwards had some made on board theAbundance. I submitted it to them, and they pronounced it excellent.[13]
The evening we spent on board theBaraguay d’Hillierswill not be soon forgotten. After a short nautical and nocturnal trip upon the water, we arrived safely in our oldLondon. On our way to theBaraguay d’Hilliers, Mr. Bracebridge informed me that Miss Nightingale was pronounced out of danger, and that the news had been telegraphed to London. The medical men were of opinion that she should return to Scutari, and after a few days’ rest proceed to England. Although out of danger, she would not be able to quit Balaklava for eight or ten days. The next morning, at seven o’clock, I was at the Sanatorium kitchen, which was finished. I set my soldier-cooks to work, and all went on admirably. It was then ten o’clock, so I called upon Dr. Hadley (the chief doctor at the Sanatorium, who had succeeded Dr. Henderson, and to both of these gentlemen I must return my sincere thanks for their assistance and kindness), and requested him to come and taste some extra diets and soups I had prepared for the convalescents. Recollecting that I had not called upon Lord Raglan’schef de cuisine, I mentioned the circumstance to Dr. Hadley, stating how much I wished to do so, but that I had no horse. Dr. Hadley very kindly offered me his pony, a fine grey, smartly caparisoned, which I at once accepted. When I had mounted, Dr. Hadley said—“Soyer, if you fall off, mind and get up again; for,” said he, “joking apart, though the pony is very quiet, recollect the road to Balaklava is a queer one, therefore take care of yourself. We should not mind so much ifwe had done with, you; but as we really require your services, for our own sakes take care of yourself.”
“I will do so,” said I, laughing, “were it only for the sake of your pony, which might get loose if I were to fall off, and you might not recover him again.”
“Never mind the pony,” said he: “you may lose him; but, whatever you do, don’t lose the saddle. We had better have a bit of supper on your return this evening, off that Yorkshire ham—you can cook it on your bivouac stove.”
“So we will, Doctor. I shall be back at six.”
“Don’t stay in the camp after dark; I can assure you it is a very dangerous place. Robberies and murders are of frequent occurrence, though we hear but little about them. We have no police, and no newspapers are published here, so we know nothing but what passes in our own circle.”
“You are perfectly right, Doctor; though I am not afraid, as I never travel without a revolver; yet it is best to be upon the safe side.”
Having fixed upon six o’clock for my return, and seven for supper, I started. There were about twenty convalescents outside the wards, enjoying the warmth of the sun’s rays. They were all in high glee at hearing our dialogue, which seemed to revive them from a state of lethargy to the consciousness of life.
The ride from the top of the Genoese heights to Balaklava harbour, by a new road, through mud, over rocks, rivulets, &c., and mounted upon a strange nag, was anything but pleasant to my feelings as a horseman. At all events, after numerous slippery evolutions on the part of my new charger, I found myself safe at the bottom of the ravine; but here another difficulty presented itself. The quay of the harbour was encumbered with French and Sardinian waggons, mules, and horses. The French, who had a wine depôt there for the troops, were strongly fortified with about a hundred pipes of wine, instead of gabions. So crowded was the road from the immense traffic and the unloading of shipping stores, that it took me nearly half-an-hour to ride a few hundredyards. This brought me as far as the Commissariat, where I had to call upon Commissary Filder. I found that he had just returned from head-quarters. We had about ten minutes’ conversation upon business. I related the result of my visit to the various provision stores—made remarks upon the same, and particularly upon the dry vegetables at that time issued to the troops. He then referred me to Under-Commissary Adams, to whom I promised a scale for a fresh composition of dry vegetables in cake, more suitable for the troops, in lieu of the finer and more expensive quality then issued in boxes. They were composed of one vegetable only, and were much too highly dried, having thus lost their aroma as well as their nutritious qualities. I therefore proposed that the firm of Messrs. Chollet, in Paris, should prepare a sample of cakes of dried vegetables, to be called coarse julienne, for the army. Each hundredweight of fresh vegetables was to consist of the following proportions:—
Twenty pounds of carrots, twenty pounds of turnips, ten of parsnips, fifteen of onions, twenty of cabbage, five of celery, and ten of leeks; with one pound of aromatic seasoning, composed of four ounces of thyme, four of winter savory, two of bayleaf, four of pepper, and an ounce of cloves; the whole to be pulverized and mixed with the vegetables.
Each cake was to serve for one hundred men, and to be marked in compartments of ten rations each, like chocolate cakes, instead of being marked upon the wrapper, which is always torn off when the vegetables are issued, and the soldiers cannot tell about quantity. This plan will obviate that evil; for I had seen in camp piles of this excellent vegetable rising pyramidically from the soldiers’ canteen pan while cooking, in consequence of their having put in the best part of three days’ rations instead of one. The dry rations are issued for three days at a time.
My proposition having met with the approval of the authorities, was at once forwarded to the War Office.
I also promised to submit to Commissary Filder’s notice several plans for improvement in the distribution of the meat.
“Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “anything you may propose or point out as an improvement will, so far as it is practicable, be carried out. Lose no time; the sooner you let us have it the better.”
After this interview, I went to inspect the kitchen, where I saw Mr. Fitzgerald, the purveyor, to whom I also made my report. As this is the first time I have had the pleasure of introducing this gentleman to the notice of my readers, it would be an omission on my part were I not to return my grateful acknowledgments for the readiness with which he at all times assisted me to obtain what I required for the hospitals in the Crimea. It is true he was at first rather reluctant; this I attributed to his not having received the proper instructions from the authorities.
Having the best part of the day before me, I set off at a gallop towards head-quarters, intending to keep the promise I had made Lord Raglan respecting his dilapidated culinary department, and also to make the acquaintance of M. Armand, hischef de cuisine. As I was not well acquainted with the road across the country, I made up my mind to follow the high one which passes close to head-quarters. When about half-way, I perceived a group of officers standing by the road-side round a kind of tent much like a gipsy tent, but considerably larger. This excited my interest, and I was riding towards it, when, to my astonishment, several voices called out—“Soyer! Soyer! come here—come this way!” I readily complied with the invitation, and found two or three gentlemen whom I had the pleasure of knowing. During our conversation, an old dame of a jovial appearance, but a few shades darker than the white lily, issued from the tent, bawling out, in order to make her voice heard above the noise, “Who is my new son?” to which one of the officers replied, “Monsieur Soyer, to be sure; don’t you know him?”
“God bless me, my son, are you Monsieur Soyer of whom I heard so much in Jamaica? Well, to be sure!I have sold many and many a score of your Relish and other sauces—God knows how many.”
“My dear lady,” said I, “don’t blame me for that; I assure you I am not at all offended with you for so doing, and shall allow you to sell as much more in the Crimea.”
“So I would if I could only get them. Bless me, I had a gross about ten days ago, and they are all gone; nor can I get any more for another month perhaps. Come down, my son, and take a glass of champagne with my old friend, Sir John Campbell.”
I immediately alighted, and Sir John came towards me and shook me heartily by the hand, saying, “Welcome to the seat of war, Monsieur Soyer!”
“Many thanks, general, for your kind wishes. I had the pleasure of leaving my card at Cathcart’s Hill the other day.”
“You did; and I was very sorry that I was out when you called; but mind, you must come and dine with me some day.”
“Thank you, general, I shall do myself the honour.”
“Now, Mrs. Seacole, give us another bottle of champagne.”
“Mrs. Seacole,” I exclaimed; “is that lady the celebrated Mrs. Seacole?”
“Of course,” said the general.
She then came forth from her bivouac cellar, with two bottles in her hands, exclaiming, “I shall stand mine, and no mistake.”
We all declared it would never do for a lady to stand treat in the Crimea.
“Lord bless you, Monsieur Soyer,” said the lady, “don’t you know me?”
“Yes, I do now, my dear madam.”
“Well, all those fine fellows you see here are my Jamaica sons—are you not?” said she, opening the champagne, and addressing the general.
“We are, Mrs. Seacole, and a very good mother you have been to us.”
“I have known you, general, for many years.”
“Well, here’s a health to all.”
We emptied our glasses, and returned the compliment. The general then left, again expressing his desire to see me at Cathcart’s Hill.
“Walk inside, walk inside, my sons; you will be better there—it is not so hot. Go in, Monsieur Soyer.”
No sooner had we entered than the old lady expressed her desire to consult me about what she should do to make money in her new speculation, in which she had embarked a large capital, pointing to two iron houses in course of construction on the other side of the road. She told me that her intention was to have beds there for visitors, which I persuaded her not to do, saying, “All the visitors—and they are few in number—sleep on board the vessels in the harbour, and the officers under canvass in the camp. Lay in a good stock of hams, wines, spirits, ale and porter, sauces, pickles, and a few preserves and dry vegetables—in short, anything which will not spoil by keeping.”
“Yes,” said she, “I mean to have all that.”
“In that case you will no doubt make money, as you are so well known to all the army.”
“I assure you, the last time Lord Raglan passed here, he spoke to me for more than ten minutes, and promised to do all he could for me.”
“That’s right,” we all said.
“I know Miss Nightingale too. She was very kind to me when I passed through Scutari, on my way here; she gave me lodging and everything I required, in the hospital.”
“We passed this way a few days before Miss Nightingale was taken ill,” said I.
“I know you did; and I am sure, if the lady had known I was here, she would have called to see me. Thank God, I hear she is quite out of danger.”
“Yes, she is improving.”
“When you see her, present my best respects, and tell the dear lady that I shall go and see her.”
“I will, Mrs. Seacole. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, my son.”
On getting up in a hurry to be off, I missed my horse, and found one of the officers’ chargers, which had been left in charge of the same man to whom I had given mine, led by a Zouave. Upon inquiring of the Zouave where the man had gone, he informed me that he did not know, but that he had given him a shilling (which he showed me) to hold this animal for, as far as he could understand, about an hour, while he went on the grey in the direction of head-quarters. I called Mrs. Seacole out, and told her what had happened. She stepped up to the Zouave, and he began talking so fast, that I shall not forget the expression he made as long as I live. His speech may be thus translated: “By the name of Jupiter! I have neither stolen nor sold your horse. Look at me! (showing his corporation.) If you like, captain, to lend me this quadruped, I will soon find the voyiou (meaning a low rascal). There is my name and the number of my regiment. We are encamped near the French head-quarters.”
All this time Mrs. Seacole had been looking about, and every grey pony she saw far or near was mine—at least in her eyes. The two officers mounted their horses, and went one one way and the other another, but soon returned, having found nothing. Having sent in all directions without being able to obtain any trace of the pony, we concluded that the animal was lost. I take this opportunity of publicly thanking those two gentlemen for the vivid interest they took in trying to find the borrowed steed. I very much regret that I do not recollect their names. They will no doubt remember the circumstance if this little work falls into their hands.[14]
All our efforts to find the pony being useless, I made up my mind to walk back to Balaklava. Just as I was thanking Mrs. Seacole for her extraordinary exertions,Mr. Day, her partner, came in, and he advised me to go at once to theHue and Cry, at head-quarters.
“How am I to do this?” I asked.
“Take my pony. It is not twenty minutes’ ride from hence; and you will stand a good chance of getting it back, especially if the man who held it was an Englishman. He is sure to be found in the English camp.”
Thanking him for his kindness, I mounted, and started full gallop for head-quarters. I made inquiries at the Post-office, where I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Russell, who introduced me to Mr. Angel, the postmaster. I then inquired for theHue and Cry, and related the circumstances under which I had lost my pony. All seemed highly amused. They laughed heartily at my expense, and I could not help joining in the merriment. Mr. Angel invited me to dine with him, having a few friends that evening to join his popotte.
“I am much obliged, my dear sir; but I am staying at Balaklava, and I suppose you dine late.”
“About six o’clock,” replied Mr. Angel. “You can sleep here. We have no bed, it’s true; but I can lend you a blanket; and there is a small hut, which is empty, you can have all to yourself. Mr. Bracebridge slept there the night before last, when on a visit to Captain Boucher, a friend of his.”
“Oh, as far as that goes, I shall be comfortable enough.”
“Then you will dine with me?”
“I will,” said I, “and am much obliged for your kind invitation.”
I thought by accepting it, I should have an excellent opportunity of looking out for my pony in the morning, if I did not happen to find it that night; I therefore went to theHue and Cry, and gave the best description,to my knowledge, as I had not had the honour of his acquaintance long, and did not know of any private marks by which he might be recognised. They gave me but faint hopes of seeing it again, and by way of comforting me, showed me a long list of missing horses, mules, and ponies, enough to fill half a column of theTimes.
“I don’t care so much about the pony, as that can be replaced; but the saddle is a new one from London, and neither the animal nor the saddle belong to me.”
“You may, perhaps,” said one, “find the horse, but not the saddle, especially if it is gone to the French camp, for, believe me, the Zouaves are very fond of English saddles, as well as everything they can get hold of which does not require feeding; so they will probably keep the saddle and turn the horse loose. At all events, we will do what we can for you; but I advise you to look out for yourself.”
It was then about four o’clock, and I had an hour’s ride about the camp, but it was all in vain. Every inquiry proved fruitless; and I could not obtain the slightest clue to the lost pony. I could not help smiling when I recollected Dr. Hadley’s last words, “You may lose the horse but don’t lose the saddle.” Hoping for better luck next day, I returned to head-quarters, and begged Lord Raglan’s groom to give Mr. Day’s pony a night’s lodging. Making sure Monsieur Armand would be in, I went to see him. He was rather busy, but he received me very politely, and showed me what he called his kitchen, though it had not the slightest claim to the title, as it was all but destitute of culinary utensils. The provisions were of inferior quality; but, as he told me, the best he could procure. I then offered my services if I could be of any use in getting stoves or a small oven erected.
“Ever since I have been here,” he replied, “I have been asking for one or two charcoal stoves and a few shelves, but not a thing can I obtain for love or money.”
“Upon my word you surprise me! How can that be in the house of the Commander-in-chief? Truly, every one has much to do.”
“Such is the case.”
“Never mind; I think I shall be able to get something done for you, as his lordship has spoken to me upon the subject.”
“I shall be much obliged to you if you will,” said he; and then pointed out the principal things he required, which were soon afterwards furnished.
As it was nearly six o’clock, I left him, and returned to the Post-office, where a sumptuous table was laid out. There was actually a tablecloth and real plates, knives, forks, and various kinds of glasses. In fact, for the Crimea, it was as the French say,épatant. We sat down six to dinner; and had some very strong preserved soup, a very nice tough fowl—the remainder of the bill of fare was made from the ration meat. We had very good wine; and, perhaps, never was a dinner better relished, or accompanied with more mirth and jokes. Russell the great was the hero, besides having an Angel for the host. Towards eight o’clock, the party amounted to about fifteen, as far as we could discern through the clouded atmosphere with which the room was filled. Every one was smoking; some large chibouques, long and short pipes, a few cigars, but no cigarettes. The unexpected increase to our party, I must observe, was partly owing to our vocal abilities, several lively choruses having attracted Mr. Angel’s illustrious neighbours, as the denizens of the woods were allured by the melody of Orpheus.
Our mirth at last became so boisterous that it not only brought around us men of all ranks, but attracted the attention of the Commander-in-chief, who sent to inquire what the noise was about. This we considered a rather inharmonious inquiry, but found that, by decreasing the pitch of our vocal organs from allegro to piano, we should produce as much effect, with less noise, as his lordship wisely called it; though I heard the next day, that Lord Raglan, who was sitting at his door enjoying the fresh air with several gentlemen of his staff, enjoyed it, and gave orders that we should not be disturbed. Complaints poured in from the numeroustents which surrounded head-quarters. It was then about ten o’clock, which is equivalent to twelve or one p.m. in London. Themot d’ordrefrom our chairman was, “Tell those who cannot sleep to join our bacchanalian party.” So many took the hint, that no room could at length be obtained in the modern Crimean Temple of Momus.
At last the order took a more positive character, for the very Angel who was presiding, observed, and very justly, that they were all playing the devil with him, and still more so with his cellar, which being but meagerly stocked, could not long stand so severe an attack. He therefore begged all new comers to go back to their quarters, and bring or send the liquid requisite to keep up the spirits of the guests till midnight—which was done. Every one, like Cinderella, disappeared, by slipping quietly out at the most convenient opportunity.
Comfortable couch—A terriblesortie—The borrowed animal reclaimed—A bad position—Lord Raglan lends me another steed—General Estcourt—Female improvements—Visit to the French camp—A French canteen—A lively vivandière—French regimental kitchens—Discoveries—Interview with Colonel Steele—Pertinent remarks—A carriage—Mrs. Estcourt and her sister—General Camp Hospital—Cathcart’s Hill—Strange reports—Concertà laSoyer—Receipt for a stew—Conversation with Sir John Campbell—A flag of truce—A good peep at Sebastopol—A cavalcade of amateurs—A sad spectacle—A narrow escape—Noisy night.
Comfortable couch—A terriblesortie—The borrowed animal reclaimed—A bad position—Lord Raglan lends me another steed—General Estcourt—Female improvements—Visit to the French camp—A French canteen—A lively vivandière—French regimental kitchens—Discoveries—Interview with Colonel Steele—Pertinent remarks—A carriage—Mrs. Estcourt and her sister—General Camp Hospital—Cathcart’s Hill—Strange reports—Concertà laSoyer—Receipt for a stew—Conversation with Sir John Campbell—A flag of truce—A good peep at Sebastopol—A cavalcade of amateurs—A sad spectacle—A narrow escape—Noisy night.
NEXTmorning, I found myself wrapped up in a horse-cloth, with a pair of top-boots for a pillow. The unfeeling and ungrateful board to which I had intrusted my precious limbs, had by the morning stamped his patron’s seal upon my back. The following day we learnt that a terrible sortie had taken place in the night, and that there had been a severe loss of men on both sides. At an early hour the court-yard was thronged with officers; despatches were flying in every direction; the cannon was roaring as usual, but the fusillade had ceased. I then went to the stable for my pony, when I found the owner, Mr. Day, upon his back, just going home.
“Ah, Monsieur Soyer, I made sure that you had lost my pony as well as your own. I expected you back immediately, being in want of it.”
“I was not aware of that, or I would have walked from your place sooner than have deprived you of it.”
“Oh, never mind. Have you heard anything of your animal?”
“No! but I am going to look after him this morning. That is the reason why I slept at head-quarters last night.”
“I am going about the camp,” said he, “and will inquire for you.”
He then started, of course leaving me without a horse, and with dreadful pains in my back and legs, which I attributed to the softness of the bed with which I had been favoured; though I could not boast of a single feather, like that Tocrisse of a recruit, who took one out of his master’s feather bed, laid it down on the boarded floor of his hut, and next morning told his companions that his master must be foolish to sleep upon a feather bed.
“Why?” asked they.
“Why, if one feather is so hard, what must the lot the captain sleeps upon be?”
The worst of my position was, how to get another horse, as it was impossible for me to walk all day about the camp, being so stiff and tired. I went to Lord Raglan’s coachman, and inquired if he had one to spare. He replied—
“Monsieur Soyer, we can spare a pony for you, but you must ask permission of the master of the horse or Lord Raglan, as I have special orders not to lend one upon my own responsibility. I am sure his lordship will let you have it immediately.”
At this moment I caught sight of Lord Raglan’s valet, and I begged him to make the request; which he did, and came to tell me that his lordship desired I should have it by all means. Once more mounted, I made an early call upon the friends of the previous night, most of whom resided round head-quarters. I had the pleasure of being introduced to General Estcourt, who took me to see the printing press where my receipts for the army were done—some of which have appeared in the public press. Afterwards I went with him to his quarters, which, though small, were very neatly arranged. The taste was not military, and I thought that I detected the work of a female hand, which I could not help remarking to the general.
“You are right, Monsieur,” said he, smiling—“it has only lately been arranged by ladies. Mrs. Estcourt andmy sister are here, and this is a little bit of their handywork. They are staying on board ship at Balaklava, and come here every day. Before they arrived I had only this small room (showing me his bed made upon boards) where I sleep as well as ever I did in my life. The only thing which awakes me in the night is when the cannon ceases firing—I am so used to it.”
“I believe that, general, and have no doubt you seldom miss hearing a report. In fact, you are the nearest of those at head-quarters to Sebastopol.”
I then inquired about the sortie of the previous night. The general said he did not know the result of it, and very kindly invited me to breakfast, which I declined, having to go round the French camp in search of my pony.
“I shall be happy,” said General Estcourt, “to do anything I can for you; and if you call in the afternoon, my wife and her sister will be here, and I will introduce you to them.”
Thanking him kindly, I retired, and proceeded round the French camp making inquiries; then to their head-quarters, where I met Captain Boucher, General Canrobert’s aide-de-camp, with whom I had the pleasure of travelling. He promised to introduce me to the general, who, he said, would be very glad to see me. Upon my telling him about my pony, he remarked—
“If he is in our camp you are sure to get him back, for we have put a stop to that kind of piracy by very severe punishment. They used to come and steal our horses from our very stables; but tell me what sort of a horse he is, and I will advertise him with the others, and we shall know in less than five or six hours if he is in our camp? the plan we have adopted cannot fail.”
Having described the animal to the captain, I thanked him for his kindness.
Considering my French review terminated, I thought of returning at once to the English head-quarters, having to see several of the authorities upon business. On my way I happened to pass by a nice French canteen. I inquired if I could get any breakfast? A rather stoutvivandière, dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Guard, very politely said to me:
“What a stupid question to ask! Do you think we have not everything required for the purpose here? Perhaps, Captain of the Lord knows what regiment, you think we have come out merely to thread pearls, sing ‘Partant pour la Syrie,’ and dance the Fandango.”
On my way I visited several regimental kitchens and tasted the soup. Some was better than at others. They had no vegetables excepting some vegetable marrow—more likely to spoil the soup than improve it. I made several important discoveries respecting the system of cooking pursued in the French camp, after visiting, with some of my new acquaintances, a row of twelve kitchens, which number, they informed me, was required for each regiment—being at the rate of one per company. One man was told off as cook for every squad or mess of sixteen. The buildings were composed of mud and stone, and covered an extent of about four hundred yards. I bade my brave companions farewell, and left them quite a happy man, having entirely forgotten horse and saddle, in making the discovery that in lieu of four hundred yards of space, a dozen buildings, and about eighty men for each regiment, an immense consumption of fuel, and smoke enough to blind three parts of the army—as the men were all cooks in turn—my system was simple, effective, and vastly superior to that even of the French, which had hitherto always been considered as preferable to the English. This was indeed the case, for all French soldiers understand a little cooking, and their canteen, pan was far superior to that in use amongst the English troops, which I condemned at first sight in the camp at Chobham.
I returned to head-quarters, intending to communicate my discovery to Lord Raglan; but learning that he was very busy, and would not be disengaged till evening, I went to Colonel Steele, who, in spite of the pressure of business, gave me an immediate audience, and promised to speak to Lord Raglan on the subject. Head-quarters were that day, in a manner, taken by storm. They wereliterally besieged, and this gave me an opportunity of getting acquainted with several officers and other officials whom I had not the pleasure of knowing—or, at least, only by sight. Amongst these were Sir George Brown, Sir W. Codrington, Sir Colin Campbell, Lord Rokeby, Captain Whitmore, and Brevet-Major A. Macdonald.
Lord Raglan passed me in the passage, and said, “You wish to see me, Monsieur Soyer?”
Knowing his lordship was much occupied, I replied, “Colonel Steele will give you the particulars that I came to communicate.”
“That will do; but have you found your horse?”
“No, my lord.”
“I have been to visit Miss Nightingale. She is still very ill. Bad job, bad job, poor lady!” he continued, walking away towards Colonel Steele’s office, with his hands full of papers.
After this I called upon Doctor Hall, with whom I had a few minutes’ conversation upon business. Louis was somewhere about, busily engaged, and, as usual, unwilling to give a direct reply, no matter what question you put to him. He came to see me. I inquired if he knew anything about the sortie of the previous night, upon which he answered that the black horse he rode the day before had thrown him in the mud, and made him in such a mess. I replied in his style:
“The sun is very hot to-day.”
Upon which he observed, “he never was there in his life.”
I begged of him to tell me how he was to-morrow.
“Don’t believe that,” said he; “it is quite false.”
An interesting young man indeed was Louis.
A very great curiosity then made its appearance, breaking the thread of our scientific conversation. What, reader, do you think it was? A carriage!—a thing unknown in the camp—or at least a bad imitation of one—drawn by two very obstinate mules, one pulling against the other, which seemed to amuse my intelligent friend Louis, who never liked to see anything going on smoothly. General Estcourt went out to meet it, andtwo ladies alighted. To this Louis thoroughly objected, saying—“Ladies, indeed! they are the two female Zouaves who performed in theAnglaises pour Rire, at the theatre in their camp. One,” said he, “is Jean Huguet—the other Panaudet, aide-de-camp to the drum-major of a regiment of cavalry. The first plays Lady Painbeche in that tragedy—the other, Lady Don’t-you-wish-you-may-get-it.”
Very fertile indeed was the brain of Louis at composition of the higher school; and, like Marplot, never wishing to see anything in its right light, he succeeded admirably. The sight of a carriage was something wonderful, but two ladies at once, and fashionably dressed, was too much good-luck. I advanced towards them, and had the honour of being introduced by the general to Mrs. Estcourt and his sister. The general invited me to walk in, and I had the honour of taking a glass of wine with the fair—who might well be called fairies at the time—ladies being so scarce, in fact, all but invisible, in the Crimea.
After a short, but very interesting, conversation with the ladies, I retired, leaving some copies of my receipts with Mrs. Estcourt, who kindly undertook to look at the proofs before printing. Thence I proceeded to the General Camp Hospital, and there met Doctor Mouatt, who told me he was waiting for the bricks for his oven from the Ordnance Office at head-quarters. I informed him that I had given in the plan for a kitchen, and endeavoured to convince him of the necessity of having it done at once.
“I am well aware of that, and it shall be attended to.”
All inquiries respecting my pony were fruitless. At last, upon asking at a canteen, a soldier told me he had heard of one being found in some regiment, but could not tell me which one, though he thought it was somewhere about Cathcart’s Hill.
On arriving at Cathcart’s Hill, I met Sir John Campbell, who invited me to take some refreshment and a glass of Bordeaux. We descended to his rocky abode in front of Sebastopol, whence you could trace every shot or shell which passed, as well as viewthe whole city. On recounting my adventure of the lost pony, and of my being absent two days from Balaklava,
“We heard,” said the aide-de-camp to Sir John, “that you had lost two ponies.”
“No! no!” said I, “one at a time is quite enough, captain.”
“I can assure you that is the joke at head-quarters. I also heard of your concertà la Soyer.”
“We spent a regular London evening,” I replied.
“I wish I had been there,” said the general; “we are getting very dull in our division. Before you go, Mons. Soyer, come and see my kitchen.”
“I will, general.”
Though very small, it was more deserving that title than the one at Lord Raglan’s.
“Here,” said Sir John, “is our ration meat; I am sure you cannot make a tempting dish out of these materials, especially from the salt meat, which requires so much soaking, it is so hard.”
“Well, general, I will not say I can make a dish worthy of Lucullus out of this; but I will try to make something palatable and fit to eat.”
“I can assure you, Monsieur Soyer, that if you succeed, it will be conferring a great boon upon the army; and you must give them the receipts.”
I did as follows: I cut about two pounds of salt beef, and as much salt pork, in pieces of about a quarter of a pound in weight, placed them, in a canteen pan with cold water, and set it on the fire. When lukewarm, I took the pan off, washed the meat well, and threw the water away. I then added three pints of fresh water, a quarter of a pound of onions sliced, two ounces of sugar, a teaspoonful of pepper, and two ounces of rice. I set it to stew and simmer gently for two hours. The general said:—
“You must come and dine with us about that time.”
“I should certainly much like to taste it, general; but I must be at Balaklava before seven o’clock to-night. To-morrow I am coming over to the General Hospital,and if you will be kind enough to order some to be saved for me, that I may taste it when I come, I shall esteem it a great favour.”
“I will do so, Monsieur Soyer, but try and be here to dinner. We shall dine about five o’clock.”
The stew by this time began to simmer, and upon tasting the broth, I found it already very palatable, without being too salt. I begged of the cook to let it simmer very gently, which he promised to do.
We prepared to separate. Before leaving, I said, “The soldiers will be able to do their rations the same way. I have recommended it to Commissary Filder, who has agreed to it, and consented that the salt rations should be issued the night before, thus giving the soldiers time to soak the meat well. In consequence of this, it will require less sugar; although it is rumoured that a quarter of an ounce is to be added to their daily rations. They will then have as much as they require; and when my new field-stoves are issued, they will admit both of the soaking and the cooking of the meat; and various messes can be made, almost impracticable in the small tin canteens now in use.”
I then told the general of my visit to the French kitchens, and what I had seen there. He agreed with me that they employed too many men, especially in time of war. It is true that the French soldiers understood cooking much better than our men did, but, nevertheless, their system admitted of great improvements. We were then standing in front of Sir John’s cave facing Sebastopol. Of a sudden all the batteries ceased firing, and Sir John exclaimed, “Hallo! there is a flag of truce hoisted on the Russian side, and it is accepted. No doubt it is for leave to bury the dead. Now is the time to have a good peep at Sebastopol, Mons. Soyer; you have two hours for that purpose.”
The generals, staff officers, and a number of military men who were present as lookers-on, started off; and I of course followed, making sure Sebastopol was not more than a mile and a half or two miles distant—which,à vol d’oiseau, it was not; but there were four or five deepravines, which made the distance much longer. The few who started from the hill were joined by many on the road, and we soon formed a small cavalcade of amateurs. I understood, from several parties of whom I inquired, that we should have plenty of time to go and return before the recommencement of hostilities, and that there was not, therefore, the slightest danger. As it was on the French side the sortie had taken place, some went one way and some another; and only about six of us went towards the French trenches. Upon our arrival we experienced some difficulty in getting in, and it was full twenty minutes before they would admit us.
One of the gentlemen present—an English officer, unknown to me—wrote our names upon his card, and, by order of the commandant of a battery, we were allowed to enter. The sight is too painful to dwell upon, from the immense numbers of dead and wounded piled one upon the other. They were mostly young men, who had fallen so bravely in defence of their country in this glorious, though disastrous, combat. I could not help remarking, both in the French and Russian dead, that those who had been killed by gun-shots passing through the body lay as if they had fallen in to a sweet slumber, with a smile upon their cold lips, and a happy and pleasing expression of countenance, very different to the fearful and contorted appearance generally presented, when from our comfortable homes we are summoned by that “strict serjeant—Death,” in consequence of old age or illness. This induced me to say to my companions in the trenches, “It appears to me as if death had not time to convey them to his mournful shore, but that the genius of glory had unexpectedly stepped in, and taken possession of their souls, which were now happily ascending to heaven and a better world; while, on the contrary, those who have lost a limb or received serious wounds in the head, appear to have expired in the most painful torture.”
The funeral service was going on rapidly and solemnly on all sides. The main attack had been against the French, and their newly-arrived Imperial Guard suffered considerable loss. The greater part of the time allowedfor the armistice had now elapsed, and we therefore thought of retiring. None of us were, however, acquainted with the French trenches, and it took us a considerable time to find our way out. I must have taken a wrong turn, or at least the man to whom I had entrusted my pony had done so, although I had given him a franc, and promised him another on getting out all right, merely to see that no one untied the pony. As he was on duty at the time, and agreed to do this, I trusted him with it. My friends found their steeds where they had left them. Pondering upon my ill-luck, and fearing the pony, which belonged to Lord Raglan, was also lost, I felt much perplexed, so I scrambled up between the gabions, and perceived, to my great joy, a man leading my pony about in the ravine. I met the person with whom I had left him, and he told me that his commanding-officer would not allow the pony to remain there any longer, as hostilities would begin again immediately, and being in sight of the enemy, they might think it belonged to a superior, and direct their fire that way; and having some other duties to perform, he gave my steed in charge of another man, and requested me to give the other man the franc I had promised him.
I ran off to the man, making sure I should reach him in two minutes, but it took me above twenty. Instead of going towards him, I got near the Russian side, and had it been dark instead of day, I have no doubt I should have been taken prisoner, from being unable in the short time left of the suspension of hostilities to retrace my steps. One of the sentries who had seen us came and advised me to be off as soon as possible, as the firing would begin again directly. Thanking him, I got my pony, and was no sooner mounted than the cannonade and fusillade thundered in every direction; and some missiles passed me much too close to be pleasant.
A regiment of French soldiers who had just been relieved from duty, and were on their way to their quarters, told me they were going to the Clocheton, a place of which I had heard, but did not know. Ifollowed them, as the night was fast setting in and rain was falling. I passed it, with a jolly set of fellows, full of song, cognac, and rum; and, as I stood some drink, I was set down in their estimation as a gentleman. I afterwards slept upon some straw, on the floor of the canteen. My horse had a very good meal, and plenty of water, but was compelled to remain out all night, which annoyed me very much. It could not, however, be helped. We had a very noisy night, and several shots were heard hissing over our heads, as we were only a few hundred yards from the small house called the Clocheton, so celebrated and well known in the French camp. It was from that picturesque spot that Monsieur de Bazancourt wrote his popular history of the war.