THREE WEEKS AT SCUTARI.
Interview with Lord W. Paulet--Plans discussed--A new medical corps
required--Reminiscences--Soyer’s House--An Oriental chorus--Various
expedients--Crusade against the rats--Daily duties--The Palace
Hospital--Happy hours--Letters to the press--A refractory
workman--A dilemma--General good luck--The Governor of Asia’s
entertainment--Return visits--A fire in Scutari--A midnight
procession--Important honours--Shut out--Arrival of the
field-stoves--Interview with the Duke of Newcastle--The Duke’s
letter--Preparations for departure--Bornet the Zouave--His
qualifications--An indescribable costume.
Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge remained with Miss Nightingale. I went and paid
my first visit to Lord William Paulet, having only had the pleasure of
catching sight of his lordship at the wharf, owing to the immense crowd.
I sent in my card; and the General no sooner received it, than he kindly
walked towards the kiosque drawing-room door to meet me, and gave me a
most cordial reception.
“Ah, Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “I am glad to see you again! How are you?
I have very frequently heard of you! I hope your services have been as
useful in the Crimea as they were here. I am happy to say that, during
your absence, I have not heard any complaints, and your system works
admirably. Dr. Cumming and I have often spoken on the subject since you
have been away.”
“It is extremely gratifying to my feelings to hear you speak so
favourably of my humble services; and I have returned for a short time
to give a look round, according to promise, as it is very important that
no change should take place in the management--which might occur,
inasmuch as my head man Jullien seems determined to leave. I must find
some one capable of replacing him, or must take to cooking again myself
till I can find a proper person.”
“I hope, Soyer, you will be fortunate enough to meet with a proper
person, as, no doubt, you will be obliged to return to the Crimea.”
“I am pleased to hear that Sergeant Thompson, whom we placed as
superintendent over the soldier-cooks, and the men under him, have
behaved so well. He says the men have learned to cook; but what he and
my man Jullien complain of is, that as soon as anybody is well
acquainted with his duty, he is recalled to his regiment. I really
believe that is the reason why Jullien is leaving. He says, as soon as
he gets a good man, he is taken away, and his successor requires to be
taught. This will always be the case, my lord, until a medical corps is
formed, in which all the different members are subject to the discipline
of the army, without being subject to frequent changes. Till such steps
are taken, the duties of military hospitals will never be properly
performed. I assure you, when I heard Jullien was about to leave, I was
much annoyed, and would have given anything to have been able to return
forthwith to Scutari. One day’s neglect would have upset all my former
success, and corroborated the remark made by your friend Colonel
Dennis--‘that it was all very well so long as I was present; but as soon
as I went away, it would be as bad as ever.’ His words would have proved
true enough, had I not introduced my simplified system of cookery, and
my printed receipts, by following which it is impossible for them to
err. At all events, I have now been absent two months; all has gone on
right, nor do I see why it should not continue to do so; but I must
repeat, the importance of having the duties of the military hospital
properly performed is such, that all the persons employed ought to be
subject to military discipline. I cannot depend upon civilians for
cooks, although they are so well paid.”
“Very true, Monsieur Soyer; I am quite of your opinion, and will take a
note of it.”
“The most important thing at present would be for your lordship to
secure a few men, about ten, whom I will instruct in the method of
cooking with my new field-stoves.”
“I cannot do that, Monsieur Soyer; I have no power away from this; but
Lord Raglan, who I hear is very partial to you, will soon see the
importance of so doing, and will grant your request.”
“Your lordship is quite right, for Lord Raglan, as well as yourself, has
shown me the greatest kindness; so have all the officials--Colonel
Steele in particular, with whom I have had more to do than with any one
else.”
“I have received a letter from my friend Colonel Douglas, of the 11th
Hussars, who tells me they had the pleasure of your company to dinner,
and that you kept them quite alive with your funny songs. You were the
real cock of the walk, and kept them in a roar of laughter from the
beginning to the end.”
“We did spend a very pleasant evening. There were above twenty guests.”
“Ah, I know! they sent me a list of names. You are aware that was my
regiment before I came here.”
“Of course I am. Your lordship was in the glorious charge at Balaklava.
I hear that the charger your lordship rides is the one you rode on that
memorable day.”
“Yes, it is; and we were both very fortunate, as you see.”
“Very, my lord. In these times everybody is subject to the chances of
war, as I observed that evening to Major Peel and Colonel Douglas, upon
taking my leave of them: ‘a few hours such mirth as this--_c’est autant
de pris sur l’ennemi_’--the French soldier’s proverb.”
“You are right. How did you find Admiral Boxer?”
“Rough and good-hearted--working very hard.”
“I heard several anecdotes of you and the admiral with the Sardinians.”
“Did you? Then you must have heard of my losing four horses.”
“No! I heard of your having lost one, while paying your addresses to the
fair Mrs. Seacole.”
“That was it. We had a good laugh over it, at all events. Mrs. Seacole
took a deal of trouble in the matter, and found the pony again. She is
an excellent woman, kind to everybody, I can assure you.”
“Ah, yes, I know her well; she paid me a visit on her way to the
Crimea.”
“She told me she had spent a few days with Miss Nightingale.”
“Talking of Miss Nightingale--she is very much altered.”
“Very much indeed. She has looked much worse, but is now improving fast.
Her life was in the greatest danger.”
“So I heard.”
“I hope Lord and Lady Stratford de Redcliffe are well.”
“Yes. I had the pleasure of dining with them at Therapia last Sunday:
they inquired after you.”
“I am very happy to hear it, and shall soon pay my respects to them. I
much regretted not being in the Crimea during their visit. The _Caradoc_
left Balaklava the day the _Robert Lowe_ left Constantinople; we
therefore passed at sea.”
“So I heard. The young ladies were very much pleased with their trip;
but Lady Paget remained there. I suppose you saw her?”
“Yes, I did. Her ladyship was staying on board the _Star of the South_.
I called several times, but at last met her ladyship in the camp,
driving out in a species of vehicle, and accompanied by Lord Paget on
horseback, to whom I had the honour of being introduced by her ladyship.
She really looked so pretty, and her equipage was so bad, that a Canova
would have sculptured her as a Venus in a wheelbarrow, instead of in a
shell.”
“Well, I must say, that would be a new, and, no doubt, an interesting
subject. By the bye, we shall shortly have a visit from the Duke of
Newcastle. I hope you will be here.”--“Indeed!”
“Yes, I expect him in seven or eight days.”
“I hope his grace will do me the honour of visiting my sanctorum.”
“Of course he will, you may depend upon that; but I will let you know
all about it.”
“As it is near your dinner-time, I wish you good afternoon.”
“Where are you going to dine, Monsieur Soyer? I believe I have but
meagre fare to offer you--a little soup and a leg of mutton. Will you
dine with me?”
“Many thanks--not to-day: we had a late lunch on board; and I have not
been to Soyer’s Castle yet, nor seen any of my people.”
“I suppose Lord Ward has a first-rate cook on board his steamer?”
“A very good one, and excellent provisions and wine. The only thing we
required was missing--that was appetite. Though fine at starting, we had
a rather rough passage for the time of year.”
The conversation terminated, and I took my departure. It was now too
late to make any more calls, so I went straight to the noble mansion
called Soyer’s House--a real kiosque, built of wood, very much like a
cage. The proprietor was a Turkish carriage-builder, a kind of a duck of
a fellow, who always retired to rest at dusk, and rose before daybreak
to work. He and four bulky Turkish boys accompanied their incessant
hammering by an Oriental chorus, which lasted from four till seven in
the morning--their breakfast-time. We not only had the satisfaction of
hearing them, but from my bed I could see them at work, through my
sieve-like bed-room floor, the boards of which did not meet by about
half an inch--no doubt to facilitate the ventilation of this Moslem
edifice. The weather being hot, this was bearable; but the harmony of
such inharmonious birds was not tolerable; so for several days, and
while they were in full chorus, various accidents, in the shape of
upsetting large buckets of water, occurred. The refreshing liquid at
once found its way to the back of our illustrious landlord, and he
changed his tone and air, to invoke the blessing of Mahomet upon our
devoted heads: upon which I gave them to understand, through an Armenian
groom, that if they dared kick up such a row, the General would turn
them out of their house. After that we had less singing, but the same
quantum of hammering. At all events, we were better than under canvas.
The house was very spacious: it contained nine rooms of a good size. I
had left it tenanted by good company--viz., three civilian
doctors--Burn, Ellis, and Howard--but found it deserted upon my return,
by all but the rats and other vermin. I and my people preferred that to
living and sleeping at the hospital, and, after a few days’ sport, and
stopping about three hundred holes, it became habitable. The landlord
fortunately had the toothache, and the fat boy, to whom I gave a few
piastres to hold his noise, was silent. The ablution of the other now
and then with a jug of hot water kept this extraordinary establishment
quiet.
If the interior of this wooden crib was not all comfort, its outside was
very cheerful, and rather elegant. It had the appearance of a large
Swiss châlet. Vines grew round it; and if the windows were left open,
branches of cherry and mulberry trees, loaded with ripe fruit, hung
above one’s head as one lay in bed. The strong morning sea-breeze made
the house rock like a cradle, and in shaking the trees which were
planted close to the house, forced the branches in. Such was, in a few
words, Soyer’s House, in Cambridge-street, Scutari, so much envied by
almost all, except the man himself. Five of my people had kept
possession in spite of several attempts to take it by storm during my
absence. It appeared that lodgings were so scarce, they wanted to take
it from them.
One evening, after supper, my man Jullien, who possessed a first-rate
tenor voice, was delighting us with the modulations of it, when suddenly
the house began to shake most awfully, and the branches of the trees
outside the windows entered very abruptly, and much farther than usual,
sweeping off all the goblets and bottles from the table, to our great
astonishment, nearly upsetting us; when our friend P. M. exclaimed, “Who
is shaking the house?” Jullien, who had travelled much, replied, “Don’t
be alarmed--it is only an earthquake.”
“Only an earthquake, eh!” said P. M., bolting.
In rushing to the street he upset my Greek servant, who was entering
with a bowl of blazing punch, which gave both house and man the
appearance of being on fire. We saw no more of P. M. till the next day,
as he said he preferred being gulped up by mother earth at one nibble to
being smothered beneath the ponderous timbers of my castle. The same
day the Barrack Hospital shook so much, that the patients were actually
seen in a state of nudity in the barrack-yard. Several jumped through
the windows; one man was killed, and the others all more or less
severely injured.
Each day I devoted to various hospitals, all went well, excepting the
Palace Hospital, where there were not less than forty or fifty sick
officers, who were much annoyed by the indifference and neglect of their
steward. When I called there, they complained to me, and invited me to
try if I could not remedy it, as well as remain and dine with them. I
accepted their kind invitation, and soon found where the evil lay. I
informed Lord W. Paulet, Drs. Cumming and M’Elray, and Mr. Robertson,
the purveyor-in-chief; and a new kitchen was built, larger than the
former. A civilian cook was placed there, and, to their delight, a new
steward. Everything then gave more satisfaction to the illustrious
patients, who always received me with the greatest kindness--so much so,
that if nature had endowed me with several appetites daily, I could have
dined three or four times per diem.
Without mentioning names, I may summon as witnesses the unfortunate
heroes who were at that time gathered around the invalids’ table. So
happy was I in their company--and I believe they were equally so in
mine,--that I felt perfectly ashamed at being quite well; for even the
Doctor was sick, in consequence of the harassing nature of his duties;
he had so much to do--which is ever the case in time of war. With
reference to their former steward, whom we had christened “la prima
donna Antonio,” as a set-off to his trickery in supplying the invalid
officers with dessert in the shape of bad ices, unripe fruit,
&c.,--things not fit for weak stomachs,--he used, at the request of a
few, to bring his guitar, and delight with his voice _à la_ Veluti the
ears of those whose palates he had so cruelly displeased. By the aid of
a most amiable and kind lady--Mrs. Moore, who some time after died of
fever, much regretted by all--I had already their comforts, and, having
previously established a better system of cookery, thought I had done
some good for those to whom I was so much indebted for their kind and
polite attention. Though I did not remain more than three weeks at
Scutari on this occasion, never, perhaps, during the whole of my martial
career, was my heart so severely tried and tortured.
The following letters, addressed to the metropolitan press, speak
volumes:--
SCUTARI, _27th June, 1855_.
MR. EDITOR,--Three weeks have hardly elapsed since my departure
from the Crimean shores, and Death, that implacable deity of the
dark abode, has had to engrave upon his mournful tablet a column of
names of some of the most distinguished heroes of the present
day--viz., Admiral Boxer, Adjutant-General Estcourt, Sir John
Campbell, Colonel Yea, Captain Lyons, General della Marmora,
&c.--and W. H. Stowe, a young civilian and bright ornament of the
literary world. Every one has heard or will hear of their fame.
History will relate facts, but time, as usual, will partly efface
from the memory of man the cause of their martyrdom or sudden ill
fate; while I--yes, I can relate, though with a sorrowful heart,
the circumstances of their social position, having still on the ear
a vibratory sound of their pure and candid voices, for it is only a
few days since that I was amongst them, cheerfully shaking hands
with them, transacting important business with some of them,
partaking of the rural hospitality of others, they of mine, and
overwhelmed by the kindness of all. Life then seemed proud of them;
the bloom of nature was radiant upon their brows. Their eyes spoke
volumes. Their hearts were as great in the devotion of the national
cause, and the glory of their country, as the pure soul which has
since departed from them for a better world. Every drop of their
blood no longer belonged to them, but to their Queen, their
country, their children--their names to posterity, their fame the
beacon to future generations of immortality.
They breathe no more! Such are the chances of war, of life’s
uncertainty. Man proposes, and the Supreme Being disposes. Instead
of cheerful anecdotes, which a few weeks ago I could have related
of those noble departed, I must here, for the present, cast a
tenebrous veil over such earthly frivolity, and implore Providence
to bestow a better fate upon the still great and noble and brave
army.
With the most profound respect, I have the honour to remain,
Your most obedient servant,
A. SOYER.
P.S. By the next steamer I shall return to the Camp to join the
Staff I have just sent there, and terminate, I trust, with success,
my culinary mission, and then return to the shores of Albion.
_H.M.S.V. “Caradoc,”_ CONSTANTINOPLE, _5th July, 1855_.
MR. EDITOR,--Scarcely has the seal of my late painful communication
had time to set, when the rocky shores of the Black Sea are moaning
and re-echoing the solemn report of the minute-gun, while the
foaming current of the Bosphorus is rapidly carrying to the snowy
white cliffs of Albion the remains of a really great man, Field
Marshal the Lord Raglan. To him, above all, I cannot but feel most
grateful for the success of my undertaking in the Crimea. The last
kind word and smile I received while at the seat of war were from
that noble martyr to his country’s cause.
With the highest consideration, I have the honour to be,
Your most obedient servant,
A. SOYER.
P.S. The great desire of paying the last tribute of respect to the
remains of that noble and brave warrior has delayed for a few days
my departure for the Crimea.
One morning I had a serious discussion with one of my workmen, who
declined to cook any more for the hospitals unless I gave him the same
wages as my head man, Jullien, in whom I placed all my confidence,
having known him for years as an honest, industrious, and well-educated
man. He was much respected by all in the hospital: Lord William Paulet
made much of him, as also did Dr. Cumming, Mr. Robertson,
purveyor-in-chief, and, above all, Miss Nightingale and Mr. Bracebridge,
for his attention to business and polite manners.
I had left a hundred pounds in his care till next morning, having that
day to go to Pera about the printing of my hospital receipts. Upon my
return, I learnt that he had disappeared, taking the money with him,
except twenty pounds, which he gave to one of the boys: the remainder he
afterwards returned. No one knew where he was gone. My first thought was
to return to the hospital, and superintend the kitchen department in
person. Everything must, I knew, be in great confusion, producing upon
the people employed under him much the same effect as the similar
defection of a general would on the eve of a battle; and such a battle,
too--one that must be fought daily, with the greatest resolution.
It is indeed a question of life and death, that brave dinner-time. So
long as we get it regularly, we think nothing about it; but let one day
pass without satisfying those imperious natural wants--what do I
say?--one day! Even an hour’s delay causes us to make several
inquiries--half-an-hour, ten minutes--ay, and even less. Now, suppose I
had not, by the merest chance in the world, been apprised of his
departure, or had I been ill, and incapable of replacing him and his
subordinates, who thought to frighten me by requiring the same
wages--which, had they behaved themselves well, I might have
granted;--had anything gone wrong, which could not fail in either of
those events to be the case, my name and reputation would have been
perilled. Thanks, however, to my lucky star, although I have experienced
an immense deal of trouble in my various undertakings, I have invariably
succeeded in the end. This is one of the hundreds of tribulations and
disappointments I met with during my Eastern mission.
A few days after my arrival at Scutari, I had the pleasure of being
introduced to the Pacha, who was also Governor of Asia Minor. At a
dinner given to him by the colonel and officers of the 11th Hussars, to
which I was invited, we had for dragoman or interpreter her Majesty’s
messenger, the worthy Mr. Webster. The banquet was given at the humble,
dilapidated, and almost decapitated restaurant of Sir Demetri, it being
partly unroofed. Demetri, a Greek by birth and name, was a most obliging
man. He spoke French, Russian, and English remarkably well, and was much
esteemed by all the gentlemen who knew him. I am sorry to say that his
followers did not merit the same commendation. British Scutarians, I
humbly appeal to your grateful conscience for the former.
To be brief, the Pacha was received in the same room where, a few days
previous, we had vainly attempted to sleep. Our most excellent friend
and ally, the son of the Prophet, having quaffed with delight and common
sense the limpid liquid which takes its birth in France or any other
country, but which, for all that, is called champagne, became very witty
and cheerful--in fact, good company,--we all felt much interested in
the description he gave of his stormy career, which put me very much in
mind of that of Ali Baba or the Forty Thieves. His glory seemed to
centre in those serious, though childish tales. But, in spite of all
eccentricities, the Pacha was amiable and very good company. His health
was proposed, with twice the number of his tales, to which he very
fervently and cleverly replied, according to our learned interpreter’s
report. The evening closed very merrily. We parted, and our illustrious
guest left, followed by his numerous suite. The farewell having taken
place, the guests evaporated like a light cloud in the atmosphere.
We heard next day that some of the party belonging to the Light Infantry
were found herborizing in most profound silence upon the greensward
which surrounds the Sultan’s mosque before the Barrack Hospital. No
doubt, they had changed their mind on their way home, and preferred
staying out to trying unsuccessfully to find their home--the weather
being so very hot.
A few days after, all the guests paid their respectful duty to the
Pacha. I was one of the last, and having my dragoman with me, was very
kindly received by his pachaship, who informed me of his intention to
return the compliment of the dinner given to him by Colonel Peel and
party upon their return, as they had left the next morning for the
Crimea. According to Turkish politeness, I had no sooner entered than
all rose from their seats. There were about seven officers with the
Pacha, and I was offered the seat next to him. A richly-ornamented
chibouque was presented, and of course accepted; various sherbets,
lemonade, sweetmeats, and snow-water were handed round in vermeil vases,
and gracefully poured into glittering cups.
The conversation was specially directed to me by the Pacha himself. My
dragoman carefully translated what was said, and informed me of all that
was going on, and what I was to do. It happened to be the time of the
Ramazan, and all the minarets were illuminated. I was remarking to the
Pacha what an extraordinary and beautiful effect Constantinople and its
mosques illuminated produced upon a European, when suddenly the
following cry was heard from the street: “Ingan var Scutari!” A regular
panic seized upon all present; and they immediately started to their
feet. The Pacha took me by the hand; and while he was giving his orders,
my dragoman quickly informed me it was the cry of fire, but I was on no
account to take my hand from that of the Pacha. I inquired where the
fire was? “I don’t know,” he replied; “somewhere in the town. You had
better say good-night, as the Pacha must be present.”
The Pacha was now giving his orders fiercely, which I could find, not
only by the perpetual motion of his tongue, but by the nervous and
strong feeling of agitation of his hand, as he made me walk up and down
the large saloon five or six times without even looking at me.
The horses were ready, when a fireman, wet through, arrived, and
requested the Pacha not to disturb himself, as the fire was already
nearly extinguished. All immediately re-entered in order, except myself,
as I wanted to be off.
“No,” said the Pacha; “sit down; we must have a second chibouque, and a
round of coffee.”
“Though I did not taste it, I must say I never in my life so much
appreciated the offer of a cup of coffee as I did this, which procured
the release of my hand, so long a prisoner in that of the Turkish
magistrate. Smoking a second chibouque made me feel rather sick, so I
requested my dragoman to thank the Pacha for his kind reception, and say
that as I was going to the Crimea in a few days, I would do myself the
pleasure of paying him a visit before my departure for England. These
words being interpreted to him, the first thing he did was to arrest me
again, but luckily not by the same hand. He then spoke very fast to my
dragoman, who informed me that the Pacha wished me to go with him as far
as lower Scutari. It was one of their great Ramazan nights; he was
obliged to go, and would esteem it a favour if I could accompany him.
“With all my heart!” was my reply, as I really wished to witness the
religious ceremony of the Ramazan.
Ten horses were waiting for the Pacha, and my dragoman informed me that
his highness was anxious to do me the Turkish honours, and would walk
hand-in-hand with me through the town. Bowing respectfully to his
highness, I begged Mr. Mason (a Greek and my dragoman) to say that I
should be delighted with the honour--that I much appreciated the extreme
politeness and kind intention of his highness.
We then started, the Pacha taking my hand, preceded by six men, bearing
five large lanterns, and a glass one with three bougies in it. Behind
came his suite, composed of about ten gentlemen; next, the chiboukshis
and the horses. Mason, my man, was of course close to me to interpret
what the Pacha said, which, however, was of no great importance. Our
brilliant _cortége_ slowly wended its way through the dense crowd at
lower Scutari. Every one stopped and bowed respectfully to the Pacha.
Still holding my hand, he presented me to the assembled crowd. My
dragoman here observed, “By seeing the Pacha on foot, and holding you by
the hand, all are aware you must be a high personage, and a respected
friend of his excellency.” Hearing this, and seeing the soldiers at the
various stations go through their military evolutions as we stopped
before them, I really began to fancy I was a great man. Thanks to my
common sense, I recollected the humble part I had to play on life’s
great stage, and could I at the time have obtained possession of my left
hand (which my illustrious friend had retained in his own from his door
to the spot where we were then standing, a distance of more than two
miles), I should have shaken hands with myself, exclaiming, in the words
of Shakespeare, “Richard’s--no! Soyer’s himself again!”
This was indeed a splendid soirée, and could I spare space, the
extraordinary scenes I witnessed while going the rounds of magisterial
duty with the Pacha would of themselves make a very interesting chapter.
Our progress came to an end at a confectioner’s shop, the largest and
principal one in Scutari. Here sherbet, coffee and chibouques, iced
lemonade, sweets, and all kinds of fruit in season, were handed to us,
as we sat upon the divans in open view to the public, a great crowd
having been attracted to the spot.
Numbers entered and saluted the Pacha, and retired. His pachaship having
inquired if I would take anything else, Mr. Mason, replied in the
negative. He then said that he was obliged to remain out all night on
his magisterial duty, and that he wished me the repose of the dead till
morning.
In return for this lively desire, I wished him the night of the living,
and we parted. Two lantern-chibougies preceded us, by his order; our
horses followed; and about an hour after, we dismissed our
Jack-o’-lanterns with rather a comfortable bacshish.
It was striking three, and the sentry refused to let Mason enter the
Barrack Hospital, where he was quartered. I offered him a lodging at my
house, which he accepted. Though very late, we arrived in time to scare
two thieves away over the garden wall; and in stumbling over a basket,
we perceived their booty consisted of only a few cherries and
mulberries, nothing being deranged or stolen from the house.
Having frequently visited the General Hospital and Kululee, and as the
time for my second voyage to the Crimea was approaching, I requested
Lord W. Paulet, who was always very desirous of seeing everything
himself, to pay one more official visit to the various hospitals, which
he agreed to do, and fixed a day for that purpose. He also informed me
that the Duke of Newcastle was expected daily. Miss Nightingale had
almost recovered, and had recommenced her assiduous exertions.
My long-expected field-stoves had arrived. I made a trial with them
before the military and medical authorities, which succeeded admirably,
even surpassing my expectations in all respects. I was more anxious than
ever to return to the Crimea, and make my grand experiment before
General Simpson; and, if approved of by the authorities, to have the
proper number ordered by Government for the supply of the whole army,
reform the old system, and introduce my new one. The stoves would of
course require an outlay at first, which would soon be saved in the
great economy of fuel and transport, the small number of men required,
independently of the immense improvement in cookery, which was at first
the only object I had in view.
Lord W. Paulet’s visit took place, as agreed upon, about three days
previous to the arrival of the Duke of Newcastle. He found everything in
good order, and I was much pleased. A few days after, I was, owing to
the sudden departure of my head man, Jullien, busily engaged at my
forges, surrounded by my soldiers, like a modern Vulcan, dressed in my
culinary attire, and in the act of manipulating some hundreds of _mock
rice-puddings_ (made without eggs or milk--see receipt in Addenda) for
my numerous convalescent guests, the brave British, when suddenly my
kitchen was filled with military gentlemen of all ranks, amongst whom
was no less a personage than the late Minister-at-War, the Duke of
Newcastle, Lord W. Paulet, and numerous other high officials--military,
medical, and civil. His Grace, setting all etiquette aside, advanced
towards me, his hat in one hand, and kindly offered me the other,
saying, “How are you, Monsieur Soyer? it is a long time since we had the
pleasure of meeting.”
“True,” I replied; “not since I had the pleasure of seeing your Grace,
then Lord Lincoln, at the Reform Club.”
“You are right, Monsieur Soyer; you have an excellent memory.”
Though my present occupation was one of the humblest in the category of
my art,--viz., making puddings for the soldiers, still the kind
condescension of his Grace, and the complimentary remarks he made upon
my services, caused me to feel more proud of my humble occupation than I
did when I was dressing the great Ibrahim Pacha fête at the Reform Club,
in the year 1846, or preparing my hundred-guinea dish at the York
banquet, in the year 1850.
The Duke of Newcastle was not the first nobleman of his high rank who
had honoured me with that degree of favour; but the others had a certain
interest in so doing. For instance, while at the Reform Club, a number
of epicures used to pay me visits, shake me heartily by the hand, and
most cordially inquire about my health. These had, I always considered,
a twofold object in view: first, to induce me to give them the best of
dinners; secondly, to ascertain whether I was feverish or in good
health. In the former case they would postpone their dinner-party for a
few days, or else try to persuade me to follow the plan of the
celebrated Marquis de Coucy, one of the greatest French epicures of the
nineteenth century, who never engaged a cook without having a written
agreement, giving him power to compel him to take medicine a couple of
days before he gave any of his grand dinners, which never exceeded
twelve in the Paris season. Extra pay was allowed for this pleasant
concession on the part of the _chef de cuisine_, who no doubt turned the
funds to _tisane_--most probably, _tisane de champagne_.
In the present case, his Grace had no such object in view, as I had
nothing to offer him but soldiers’ hospital rations, diets, &c.,
composed of beef-tea, mutton-broth, rice-puddings, &c., and my new
biscuit-bread, which had been made three months, having the date of
baking stamped upon it. I drew the Duke’s attention to this, and then
broke a little into some mutton-broth; and in five minutes it had all
the appearance of a piece of fresh bread soaked in broth. In its dry
state, it was much more agreeable to eat than the usual biscuit. His
Grace was highly pleased with it, and advised me to recommend its
adoption to the War-office upon my return to London.
The kitchen was by this time full of officers and medical men, come to
pay their respects to the Duke, forming a numerous escort as he went
round the hospital. I gave a short account of my proceedings since my
arrival at Scutari, where I had closed all the kitchens but this one,
minutely explaining all its details, as well as the plan I had adopted
to keep it so clean and so cool; at which the Duke was much struck.
Cooking was done daily in it for more than one thousand men, the
weather being then intensely hot. After honouring me with most
flattering compliments, the Duke and party retired. Lord William kindly
informed me that the Duke would visit the other hospitals in a day or
two, and that he would give me due notice of his visit. Accordingly, two
days afterwards, we showed the Duke over the General, Hyder Pacha, and
the Palace Hospitals, with the arrangements of which he expressed
himself satisfied.
A few days after, the Duke of Newcastle left for the Crimea, but, prior
to his departure, honoured me with the following letter:--
MESSERIE’S HOTEL, _23rd July, 1855_.
DEAR M. SOYER,--Accept my best thanks for the copy of your book.
Your philanthropic labours in this country deserve the thanks of
every Englishman, and for one I am grateful for what I have seen of
your good work at Scutari.
I am, yours very truly,
NEWCASTLE.
At length I found two tolerably good cooks, and re-established
everything in the culinary department to my satisfaction. My presence
being no longer required, I prepared for my departure. I had taught
about a dozen soldiers my system of camp-cooking and the use of my new
field-stoves. I also engaged a French Zouave, named Bornet, belonging to
the 3rd Regiment, whose term of service was just out. He was to act as
my aide-de-camp, écuyer, master of the horse, and shield, in case of
blows. He knew the savate, single-stick, sword, foil, and could box
well; was a capital shot and extraordinary good horseman; he could sing
hundreds of songs, and very well too; had a good voice, danced
excellently, and was altogether of a very happy disposition.
Among his other then unknown qualities, he was very quarrelsome; a great
marauder _à la_ Zouave; remarkably fond of the fair sex, in his martial
way, running all over the camp after the heroic _cantinières_; and,
though never drunk, seldom sober, always ready to fight any one whom he
thought wished to injure or speak ill of me. In fact, he was, much
against my will, my bull-dog, and kept barking from morning till night.
He was allowed to wear his costume for twelve months longer. In fact,
my Zouave was a model of perfection and imperfection. The doctor of his
regiment, who admired him for his bravery and cheerful abilities,
impressed upon me that he was the man I required. “Very scarce they
are,” said he; “there are not more than one hundred left out of the
whole regiment who began the campaign; and he is sound, although wounded
at Inkermann.”
Upon this strong recommendation, and having to run so much risk about
the camp, as well as for the curiosity of the thing, I engaged Bornet,
the Zouave; had a new costume made for him; introduced him to Lord W.
Paulet, Miss Nightingale, &c. &c. Everybody found him extremely polite,
good-looking, and intelligent. We bought four horses, and he had the
sole command of the cavalry department. All admired his extraordinary
good style of horsemanship, particularly Lord W. Paulet. Thus, the
illustrious François Patifal Bornet, late of the 3rd Zouaves, was
recognised as belonging to the British army. He and twelve soldiers
composed the brigade of Captain Cook--a title I had assumed in the camp.
We were now ready to enter upon our campaign. I had paid my respects to
Lord and Lady de Redcliffe at Therapia, and to General Vivian at
Buyukderé: he was then at the Palais de Russie. In this town I and my
Zouave created quite a sensation. I had adopted an indescribable
costume. It seemed to have attracted John Bull’s particular attention on
his supposed visit to the camp. Such, at least, was the case according
to the _Times’_ correspondent, who, in a dialogue with John Bull, says,
“I beg your pardon, but who is that foreign officer in a white bournous
and attended by a brilliant staff of generals--him with the blue and
silver stripe down his trousers I mean, and gold braid on his waistcoat,
and a red and white cap? It must be Pelissier?”
“That! why, that’s Monsieur Soyer, _chef de nos batteries de cuisine_;
and if you go and ask him, you’ll find he’ll talk to you for several
hours about the way your meat is wasted. And so I wish you good morning,
sir.”