LAST DAYS OF BRITISH OCCUPATION OF THE CRIMEA.
A final trial--Distribution of the Order of the Bath--Letter from
Lord Gough--Farewell to the battle-field--Bonfires--Grand
_coup-d’œil_--Lord W. Paulet’s farewell party--Parting
visits--Depredations--Morning parade catechism--Stuart’s
canteen--The Theatre Royal of the Fourth Division--The scenes
shifted--Soyer’s new invention--Pilgrimage through a deserted
camp--Sanatorium Hospital--Six cemeteries--Trip to Odessa--Return
to Balaklava--A pleasant surprise--The yacht _Sylphide_--Letter
from W. H. Russell--Departures--The Nightingale Monument--The last
day--General Codrington’s letter--The keys of Balaklava given up to
the Russians--The place retaken--A parting invitation--Good-by to
the Crimea.
The following day I begged Sir William Codrington to fix a day for my
final trial, when I intended to place twelve stoves in the 56th
Regiment, then quartered at the back of the vineyard facing
head-quarters, and thus cook for the whole regiment. This would afford
Sir W. Codrington an opportunity of judging of their efficacy, and
enable him to give his opinion upon the subject. Lord Gough had arrived
to distribute the Order of the Bath; and, as his lordship was to remain
a couple of days longer in the Crimea, I was anxious that he should be
present at the inspection. The following Sunday was fixed for the
purpose, and the inspection was to take place after divine service.
Accordingly, Lord Gough, Sir W. Codrington, General Wyndham, General
Barnard, General Garrett, Colonel de Bathe, Colonel Blane, Colonel
Walker, Captain Ponsonby, with their respective Staffs, were present,
and tasted the various kinds of food I had caused to be prepared by two
soldiers only for the whole regiment, about six hundred strong. About
thirty gentlemen had assembled; and they all expressed in high terms
their satisfaction and approval, not only of the quality of the food
produced from the soldiers’ rations with so little trouble, but also of
the small quantity of fuel consumed in its preparation. In corroboration
of this, I the next day received the following letter from Lord Gough:--
LORD GOUGH begs, with his compliments, to inform Monsieur Soyer
that he had much pleasure in seeing his new cooking-stoves for the
army. Any measures which Monsieur Soyer may have in view to
simplify the cooking arrangements of the soldier will always meet
with Lord Gough’s hearty approval.
_Sebastopol, 10th June, 1856._
The French as well as the English camps diminished daily. Each evening
was ushered in by large bonfires, indicative of the early departure of
either French or English troops. This style of farewell to the
battle-field was generally adopted in both armies; but some of the
French, not satisfied with burning their lumber and loose wood, which
was very properly allowed by the authorities for those joyful volcanoes,
commenced setting fire to their huts, kitchens, &c.; for which they were
very severely reprimanded by their general, who, instead of allowing
them to start the following day, as intended, kept them in camp to the
last--compelling them to bivouac upon the spot, and thus fully enjoy the
consequences of their folly, having no kitchens to cook in, nor huts to
lie under. This was a good lesson for the remainder of the army.
The Fourth Division, under the command of Lord William Paulet, received
orders to depart. Every regiment distinguished itself more or less by
its peculiar style of bonfire. They were to be fired simultaneously on
the eve of their departure. Some were raised to the height of thirty
feet; one even exceeded that, with a base of at least sixty feet in
circumference, being composed of not less than ten or twelve tons of
wood and rubbish, brought together by the men of the 57th Regiment, who
worked very hard for some days in getting it ready. The night arrived,
all the bonfires, with the exception of the large one, which was kept
for the last, were fired; and when the smaller ones were about half
consumed, this monster was ignited in four places. The _coup-d’œil_
was indeed grand. The burning of Sebastopol had not offered such a
column of fire in one spot; added to which, all the regiments composing
the division had joined, and were dancing round that mountain of
flame--shouting, singing, playing on marrow-bones and cleavers, and upon
hundreds of tin camp-kettles as a substitute for drums. The camp was
richly illuminated for miles around till about ten o’clock, when, as
usual, all mustered in military order. The burning sky had recovered its
former azure splendour; the stars were twinkling and shooting; and the
next day nothing remained to tell the tale to the new-comers but a kind
of large black seal, about eighty feet in circumference.
That evening I had the pleasure of joining a farewell party, given by
Lord W. Paulet to a number of friends at his head-quarters. The time
passed very merrily and agreeably, leaving a most delightful impression
upon the minds of all.
The next morning, at daybreak, the whole of the division were on their
way to Balaklava. A long red line was seen marching in the distance; the
sound of the bands playing “Cheer, boys, cheer,” was faintly heard,
gradually receding from both sight and hearing. Those brave fellows were
then off for good. The Guards had left their camp some days before; but
they went in detachments--the Coldstreams first, the Grenadier Guards
next, and the Fusiliers last. I paid my respectful farewell visits to
Lord Rokeby, General Craufurd, Colonels Drummond, Foley, &c. &c.
Upon this occasion, Colonel Foley invited me to lunch at their grand
mess-room, which invitation I accepted with great pleasure. Every one
being on the move, invitations to dinner entirely disappeared from the
order of the day. The rations were the only provisions which graced the
last day’s bill of fare. Still, the salt pork, beef, and the fresh meat
were very good, and highly relished by a Crimean appetite: added to
which, the remains of a good English cheese, a salad _à la Zouave_, and
good English draught ale, completed the sumptuous gala. While freely
partaking of the gallant colonel’s hospitality, a number of officers
joined us; amongst whom I recognised the scion of a celebrated epicure,
who sat next me, and commenced manipulating in his plate a most
relishing sauce. Upon tasting this, I could not resist exclaiming--
“Oh! Sefton, Sefton! may your noble ashes repose in peace in your tomb!
The glory of your name has not faded: your grandson, the youthful Lord
Sefton, is an epicure!”
Some of my stoves remained in use in the Crimea till the day of the
departure of the First Division. I was in duty bound to watch over and
rescue them from the hands of the marauding Tartars, who seemed to claim
as their own everything left behind by each regiment, even previous to
the surrender of the Crimea by the Allied Governments.
All that remained of the British army consisted of the 20th with two
Scotch regiments at Kamara, and a body of the Land Transport Corps at
Cathcart’s Hill, (the Land Transport Corps were even at that time
raising their bonfires); and the 56th Regiment at head-quarters, as Sir
William Codrington’s body-guard. So few troops being left upon such a
vast space, made it not only very dull, but also very unsafe, compelling
us to keep loaded guns and revolvers at the head of our beds. The
precaution was most necessary, for, with all our care, we were daily and
nightly robbed by the Tartar Jews who infested the camp. Tents actually
disappeared, and several huts were fired in the English camp; and no one
could detect the authors of these outrages.
The Fourth Division retained its name and the ground, but that was all.
The chief of that colossal body alone remained--General Garrett having
to the last maintained his head-quarters upon the memorable spot. The
loss most felt upon Cathcart’s Hill was the departure of Lord Alexander
Russell’s brigade of Rifles, who were in the habit of parading and
exercising daily upon the plateau. A parting dinner given to his
lordship by General Garrett, and to which I was invited, closed merrily
enough; but the day after their departure the camp was as desolate as a
desert; only one regiment, the 20th, remained. General Garrett and
myself were the only proprietors on that far-famed spot, Cathcart’s
Hill, though no end of new tenants were arriving in shoals; I mean the
rats from deserted camps, who boldly took possession of our
head-quarters. All around had in a few days assumed such an aspect of
desolation, that it appeared to me like a sudden exile from a lively and
brilliant capital to a deserted rock: the beating of drums, sounding of
trumpets, and the harmony of the bands; as well as the eternal morning
parade catechism of the drill-serjeant, shouting with all his might,
“Fall in! eyes fifteen paces to the front!”--or occasionally, as the
French would say, “Les yeux fixes et la tête à quinze pas!” “Shoulder
arms! slope arms!” Now and then, an awkward fellow would be thus
apostrophized by the witty Serjeant: “Now, my man, has not your country
been generous enough to present you with a musket? Then, do your country
justice by learning the use of it.”
The profound silence which succeeded the tumult of camp life would have
depressed the greatest philosopher. Stuart’s celebrated canteen,
attached to the theatre, and which appeared in the series of engravings
already published, was on the move; and Stuart’s head man, Joe, was at
his last score of bottle-breaking, when I called and ordered
half-a-dozen of pale ale.
“You may boast,” he exclaimed, “of being the last served here, for we
are going off to Kadikoi immediately.” I then walked into the theatre.
The stage offered a singular _coup-d’œil_: the figure of a child, as
well as a black doll, were hanging by the neck from a cross beam at the
top of the stage; the elaborately-painted curtain was torn into ribbons,
the scenery partly whitewashed over, and the furniture of the apartment
of Serjeant Blowhard was thrust into Miss Greenfinch’s bedroom; while
Slasher and Crasher had left the theatre in a most dilapidated state.
Female attire, including wings, ringlets, caps, bonnets, bunches of
flowers, crinolines, and toilets of all fashions, bedaubed with chalk,
bismuth, vermilion, and red brickdust, instead of carmine, were
scattered about the stage in such a state that a French _chiffonnier_
would not have disgraced his hamper by including them amongst its
contents. The painting-room floor was like a rainbow; all the powdered
colours had been kicked in every direction, forming a mulligatawny of
shades enough to puzzle an Owen Jones and his disciples. The benches in
the stalls and pit were piled up into a formidable barricade. Nothing
had been respected but her Majesty’s royal arms, which ornamented the
centre of the proscenium. These had been painted by Major Dallas,
General Garrett’s aide-de-camp.
By the aid of a ladder, I carefully removed them, with the intention of
placing them amongst my Sebastopol trophies, as a memento of the
dramatic art in the Crimea. Upon leaving this desolated skeleton temple
of Melpomene, I inquired of Mr. Stuart’s bottle-breaker the cause of
this awful disorder. He told me, frankly enough, that so far as the
wardrobe was concerned, the rats had taken possession, but that for the
remainder, himself and a few friends had done the work of devastation by
way of closing the season. Thus terminated the dramatic performances in
the Theatre Royal of the Fourth Division; and it was, no doubt, a fair
specimen of what happened in other divisions, if left in the hands of
similar good managers.
Indeed, I could not but feel hurt at this sudden devastation, for it was
only a few evenings before that this tumble-down temple of Momus was
gloriously shining through the resplendent glare of a dozen brown
candles, and that the celebrated band of the Rifles (by permission of
Lord A. Russell) was delighting a crowded audience numbering upwards of
five hundred soldiers, when, at the end of the first piece, to the
astonishment of all, and myself in particular, a distinguished artist
and “non-_commissioned_” poet came forward, who, though not in the style
of Victor Hugo or Moore, but rather in the poet_less_ “_or you-go-not
style_,” poured forth the following song, to the amusement of the
audience, who at its conclusion encored it most lustily. The “_poetry_”
(?) ran as follows:--
SOYER’S NEW INVENTION.
A trifling thing, gentlemen, I am going to mention;
Oh tell me, pray, have you seen this great and new invention,
To cook in camp I believe it is their intention;
For Soyer’s patent, I confess, it is a perfect creation.
Steam! Steam!
For in it you can burn coal, wood, or patent fuel,
Put in your meat, and then you’ll find it will soon be doing;
And when lighted, away it goes, and everything in motion;
For Soyer’s patent, I confess, it is a perfect creation.
Steam! Steam!
They gather round for to see the wonderful man who made it,
And stand in amaze and have a gaze, and then begin to inspect it.
All the cocked hats, I believe, say it’s a stunning notion;
For Soyer’s patent, I confess, it is a perfect creation.
Steam! Steam!
It’s greatly approved of, I believe, by all the nation,
And they are about to contract for this great new invention.
I sincerely hope that there’s no harm in anything I mention;
For Soyer’s patent, I confess, it is a perfect creation.
Steam! Steam!
_Composed by_ A. THOS. PRICE,
_Lance Corporal 20th Regiment_.
My presence being discovered, the whole of the troops rose _en masse_,
and favoured me with three cheers, when, mounting a bench, I addressed
them as follows:--
“My worthy friends and brave fellows, allow me to express to you my most
profound gratitude for the honour you have conferred upon me thus
unexpectedly. My humble services have often been approved of by your
superior officers, but believe me, nothing can be more gratifying to me
than your genuine and spontaneous approval of my endeavours to improve
the cooking of the soldiers’ rations; and now that peace has
re-established order amongst us all, I shall only be too happy to devote
my time in instructing you in the plain art of cookery; for, believe me,
it is the desire of her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, and your
superiors, that you should live well, long, grow fat, and die happy.”
Shouts of laughter and rounds of cheers terminated this unexpected
dramatic impromptu. The performance in consequence terminated twenty
minutes later than usual.
On leaving this heap of ruins, I felt as though haunted by a day-mare
instead of one worthy of Young’s Night; but I persisted in conquering
the feeling, and in continuing my sorrowful pilgrimage. As if to add to
the gloomy appearance of the deserted camp, the sun, which long threw
his burning rays upon the dry soil, disappeared behind vaporous clouds,
and rain fell fast. Nevertheless, nothing could prevent me carrying out
my first idea, which was to visit in all their loneliness the various
camps. I reasoned thus with myself:--“I am probably the only person who
has the chance of doing this, and, therefore, the only person who will
be able to tell the tale.” In spite of the great desire I had to
continue my journey, as evening was approaching, I was compelled, though
reluctantly, to put an end to my camp review until the day prior to my
evacuating the Crimea; therefore I returned to Balaklava, which place,
together with Kamiesch, alone showed signs of martial movement, the
latter less so than the former. The French troops got away before our
own, and at last there were as many Russians as French at Kamiesch. I
had scarcely anything to do, which was not amusing after having had so
much business continually upon my hands. Mr. Crockford asked me whether
I should like to take a trip to Odessa. I jumped at the proposal with
delight. That gentleman kindly allowed me to invite a few friends, and
assured me that the trip would only occupy five or six days, going and
returning. In less than four hours the list was filled, and two days
afterwards we were on board the _Belle Alar_, but under more prosperous
circumstances than on our former pleasure expedition. The weather was
fine, the vessel properly ballasted, and furnished with provisions of
all sorts, besides a cargo of goods. Our appetites were first-rate; and
after thirty-eight hours of fair steaming, we came in sight of the
far-famed city of palaces--Odessa, into the harbour of which we were at
once admitted.
Thanks to General Lüders, who obtained of the governor a suspension of
quarantine, and Brigadier-General Staunton, whose arrival had been
telegraphed, we were allowed to enter even without passports. Among the
fortunate tourists were General Staunton, Colonel Smith, Major Earle,
Mr. William Russell, Mr. Angel, Mr. Crockford, and myself.
During the trip, our party was as turbulent as the ocean was calm. Each
day commenced and ended with shouts of laughter, contrasting singularly
with the former melancholy days in the camp. I need not relate that
which is so well known to every one--that the most successful parties
are those which are got up _à l’impromptu_. This was the case with this
delightful trip; so much so, indeed, that some who came on board at five
o’clock were not aware of it till two or three.
I do not think I can give a better idea of this delightful trip than by
republishing the following descriptive letter, which appeared in the
_Times_:--
SOYER AT ODESSA.
_To the Editor of the Times._
SIR,--From the arid and partly-deserted soil of the Crimea, and the
everlasting view from Cathcart’s Hill of the now silent ruins of
Sebastopol, nothing can be more refreshing to the mind than the
aspect of a civilized and inhabited town.
I and a few friends agreed to make a trip by water to the famed
city of Odessa, where we are now enjoying the favours of peace, and
it is with great pleasure that I return our sincere thanks to the
authorities and inhabitants of that city of palaces for the most
cordial and charming reception which could have been conferred upon
strangers after such a destructive war.
Being anxious to visit the public buildings, military hospitals,
and the various institutions, I expressed my wishes to General
Lüders, which his Excellency not only acceded to, but deputed his
aide-de-camp, Colonel Scariatine, to accompany us in our visitorial
pilgrimage.
The party consisted of Brigadier-General Staunton, 4th Division,
Adjutant-General Colonel Smith, Major Earle, and myself.
This noble man, who spoke excellent French and English, was indeed
a valuable _cicerone_. The most important of the institutions we
visited are the Military and Civil Hospitals, the Foundling
Institution, the Salles d’Asile, and the Hospital of the Sisters of
Charity. We were received at, and shown over, the Hospital by the
chief medical officer, Dr. Grime, and staff; at the Foundling, by
the director, Mr. Fourman; at the Salles d’Asile, by the
inspectress, Madame Pera Ergard; and by the Superior of the Sisters
of Charity, Madame Marie Retchakoff--one of the latter had just
arrived from Bakschiserai; she had been all through the campaign,
and was slightly wounded in the trenches. She related that several
sisters were killed in Sebastopol, and many wounded during the
siege; the latter are now recalled to St. Petersburg, and enjoy the
favour and patronage of the Empress. These ladies were most anxious
to hear of Miss Nightingale’s doings, and spoke of her with the
greatest veneration. They listened with much interest to my account
of that excellent lady’s efforts in the cause of humanity.
All these institutions, though based upon similar principles to
those in England and France, possess a type of their own, both as
regards the expense and management. Cleanliness, simplicity, and
judicious economy seem to be closely studied in all the
establishments.
The culinary department, which, of course, was of vital interest to
me, I found extremely clean and well constructed, though rather
complicated. The boilers are made of wrought iron, which I at first
sight feared was copper, but the lids only were made of that showy
but dangerous metal in such vast establishments, where the
apparatus is in continual use and tinning difficult to be often
repeated.
We were at the Orphan’s School in time to taste their food, which
consists of a basin of soup, one pound of meat, one ounce of
oatmeal, and one pound and a half of white bread. The soup is of a
thinnish nature, and strongly flavoured with pleasant aromatic
herbs, the whole forming, no doubt, a very wholesome and nutritious
food, and well adapted to the climate. Their beverage, which is the
one of the soldiers, is called Quielyë and Chtschy in Russian, and
Quataee in the Polish language. It is made with rye, mead, and a
small portion of hops, requiring only a few hours to prepare it.
I must say that to an uninitiated palate it is anything but a
pleasant drink, but, no doubt, very refreshing and agreeable when
used to it; for after drinking one goblet of it my thirst was
allayed for several hours during one of the hottest days I had
experienced for some time.
Now, a few words for the epicures. The sturgeon, which is here
abundant, and in England despised and valueless, forms a principal
and an exquisite article of food, which is partly owing to the
method they have of dressing it. On my return I intend to try and
reinstate this queenly fish in its pristine fame.
Fresh caviar, which is made from the roe of the fish, is daily
eaten by the Russian population as an introduction to the dinner.
Crawfish of an extraordinary size are caught in the small rivulets
close to the town; they are cheap and very plentiful. The tail and
claws are generally the only parts eaten, and tons weight of the
part which makes the exquisite bisque d’écrevisses are monthly
thrown away.
The receipt of this excellent soup I have promised to send to the
worthy host of the Europa Restaurant, he having promised to give it
a trial, and thereby enrich his already luxurious bill of fare.
With the highest consideration, I have the honour to remain, your
very obedient,
A. SOYER.
_Europa Hotel, Odessa, June 23._
We left the far-famed city of Odessa, and thus joyfully terminated our
trip to that land of new friends.
Upon our return to Cathcart’s Hill, we found that General Garrett and
suite had removed to the commandant’s house at Balaklava, the general
having succeeded to that important post at the departure of Colonel
Hardinge, which post he retained till the final close of this great
political and military drama. My majordomo, my engineer, and followers,
were not able, with all their bravery, to resist the nightly attacks of
the Tartar camp-rovers. Robbery it was impossible to prevent; for they
in one night, as I heard, cleared off everything out of doors, as well
as an old bell tent and a box with the servant’s clothes. The matter at
last grew so critical, that my people were obliged to fire upon them in
the night at random. Such Arabian marauders are worthy of the finest
type of Zouaves for pillaging.
I found also, on my return, that my people had, immediately after I set
off on my trip, left the hill, at the recommendation of General Garrett.
He kindly sent word that he did not consider it safe for them to remain
there any longer. They were quartered in one of the wards close to the
General Hospital, where some of the Sardinian sick remained. They had
all daring, adventurous, and extraordinary anecdotes of what had
occurred during my absence to relate. Shell-proof, in particular,
pretended to have wounded several in the nocturnal engagements.
On his departure for Odessa, Mr. Wm. Russell had left his iron castle,
with his farm-house, stables, garden, and dependencies, in a most
nourishing condition; but upon his return that gentleman found the
castle pulled down, folded up, and packed ready for removal by land
pirates. He thus describes his feelings on the occasion:--
MY DEAR MONSIEUR SOYER,--What do you think? I am now a houseless,
homeless wanderer: they have pulled down my house, so it is really
time for me to evacuate the Crimea. The shell of the house only
stands; and as I am not a lobster or an oyster, that will scarcely
give me a shelter; so I must hang out on Cathcart’s Hill, in the
old cave where Sir John Campbell lived long ago.
W. H. RUSSELL.
Upon returning to Balaklava, we found it but a dismal place. Everybody
you met--and the number was not great--quietly asked, “What, not gone
yet!--when are you going?”
“In a few days,” was the general reply, or perhaps “to-day” or
“to-morrow.”
For my part, I told every one who inquired that I had gone, and what
they saw going about dressed like me was only my shadow. Joking apart, I
may state, for the information of those whom I respect and who deserve
to know the truth, my reason for remaining so long was this: I was in
duty bound to see the remainder of my field-stoves, which were in use
till the last moment of the campaign, shipped for England. Not only was
I responsible for them, but I had to give my official report to Sir
William Codrington, and close the mission entrusted to me by the British
Government.
Glad was I to be once more at liberty, as my health, though partially
restored, was anything but satisfactory. The Commander-in-chief had gone
to Odessa only for a few days, it is true; but during his absence there
was nothing doing. Balaklava was deserted, the camp lifeless; Kadikoi
still more so--not a hut, tent, shed, store, canteen, shop, or stable,
was inhabited. Brick and stone houses, as well as hospitals, were to let
at the very moderate price of nothing at all, and glad to get tenants at
that rather reduced rate. It was not at all extraordinary for one to
rise a poor man in the morning, and at night find oneself a large
proprietor. Every person, upon leaving, presented you with rows of
houses, shops, &c., which they could not sell or take away.
Nevertheless, all was stale, flat, and unprofitable, as a day or two
after coming into possession you yourself had to give them up. Riding
through the camp, even at mid-day, was a dangerous experiment, as it was
invaded by hundreds of people of all kinds and tribes, who prowled
about, pillaging everything they could put hands upon. Therefore
Balaklava was the only safe quarter, and dull enough into the bargain.
The heat was great, and amusement scanty. Like the song of the
Manchester operatives, “we had no work to do-oo-oo.” Eating little,
drinking much, and sleeping all day, was our principal occupation. I
removed from the General Hospital to a very comfortable hut, then
recently occupied by an officer of the Commissariat, comprising three
rooms, a stable, and yard.
About noon one day, while in deep slumber, I was suddenly aroused by a
joyful voice. It came from Captain Hall, General Codrington’s
aide-de-camp. “Hallo!” said he, “I fear I am disturbing you.”
“Not at all, captain; pray walk in--I have nothing to do. I was taking
an Oriental nap, which calms one’s senses, to that extent that I had in
imagination travelled as far as England and back again to my duty in the
East in less than half an hour.”
“I have done more extraordinary things than that,” said he. “By the same
conveyance I have been as far as the East Indies and back to
head-quarters in the Crimea in twenty minutes.”
“You have certainly beaten me; and I think the human mind can at any
time beat the electric telegraph for speed.”
“What do you intend doing to-morrow?”
“The same as to-day, captain--nothing.”
“Captain Leyland and family have just arrived in the harbour in the
beautiful yacht, the _Sylphide_. I have spoken to him about you, and he
will be glad to make your acquaintance. They called upon you at
Cathcart’s Hill, but you were at Odessa. If you like to see that
gentleman at once, I will introduce you.”
“Most happy, captain.”
In a short time we were climbing up the side of the bulky _Sylphide_, an
immense yacht. From her deck, her beauty was seen to the best advantage.
The real Sylphide was, however just perceptible, surrounded by a group
of gentlemen and ladies, beneath a large union-jack which formed an
awning upon deck. This was no other than Miss Leydell, a beautiful lady
eighteen years of age, with blue eyes, fair hair, rows of pearls for
teeth--in fact, a real Sylphide, a sight of whom would have driven
Taglioni to despair. After I had had the honour of an introduction to
her sylphideship and the surrounding group, the conversation became
animated. The topic was upon a monster gipsy party which was to take
place the following day in the valley of Baidar, and to which I received
an invitation, no sooner made than accepted by your humble servant. The
captain then offered to show us over his yacht, which might be compared
to a nobleman’s floating house, for elegance, perfection, and comfort.
The Land Transport Corps and Commissariat had all left, and only the
General-in-chief and Staff remained, forming the last link of the chain
which still bound them to the Crimean soil. They were at the time
preparing for an excursion to Odessa, on a visit to General Lüders. The
excellent account of the courteous reception we had received at his
hands, as well as from the inhabitants of that beautiful city, rendered
them more anxious to go. Miss Nightingale was preparing for her
departure. I was waiting the closing of the Land Transport and General
Hospitals, to see my field-stoves embarked; and after delivering them in
person to Captain Gordon, I was anxious to follow. Balaklava church, now
deprived of its sacerdotal character, was being prepared for the
reception of the Commander-in-chief upon his return from Odessa, as
head-quarters had been given up to the original proprietors. General
Wyndham, accompanied by his aide-de-camp, had left for England.
The _Algiers_ had arrived in port, to conduct Sir William Codrington to
England, via, Constantinople and Malta. A few days afterwards, Miss
Nightingale and nurses left for Scutari. All the hospitals in the
Crimea were then closed.
A few days after the departure of Miss Nightingale, a marble monument of
immense size arrived, and was erected, by an order left by that lady,
between the Sanatorium heights and the Sardinian graveyard and monument,
situated on the peak of a mountain. It is perceptible from a great
distance at sea. The Nightingale Monument is a monster marble cross,
twenty feet high, of beautiful Marmora marble. I believe it was ordered
and paid for by that benevolent lady, and dedicated by her to the memory
of the brave, and the deceased Sisters of Charity. Nothing was written
upon it when we left; but the following line was, as I was informed, to
be inscribed:--
Lord have mercy upon us.
Gospodi pomilore nass.
Shortly after the return of Sir W. Codrington, Sir John Hall, the chief
doctor, and Dr. Mouat departed. The only acting parties now left upon
the Crimean shores after the awful struggle were, General Sir William
Codrington, Admiral Freemantle, Rear-Admiral Stewart, General Garrett,
Colonel Halliwell, Major Dallas, Captains Hollis and Barnard, Colonels
Hugh Smith and Ross, and Captain Gordon; Mr. Osborn, the Commissariat
officer, and Mr. Fitzgerald, the purveyor.
The last day, so anxiously waited for and so sweetly anticipated, had
arrived. It was ushered in by nightly burnings of huts and canteens.
The day before our departure, and the one prior to the surrender of
Balaklava to the Russians, being fixed for my grand review, after in
vain endeavouring to induce several individuals to accompany me, I had
to go alone, as nobody else took any interest in my solitary pilgrimage.
Even my Snow-hill Zouave at the same time pretended that he had too much
to do to waste his valuable time, as he called it--valuable indeed was
the word; for at that instant my Cockney Zouave, the brave, was busily
engaged making a family drawing. A Stanfield would have been at a
standstill at the ingenuity of this modern Joseph Vernet, as a marine
painter. Miss Nightingale’s carriage had the night previous arrived at
my domicile from a store in the Land Transport Corps camp, where I
rescued it from a heap of vulgar wagons; it was now standing before the
door of my hut, which faced the General Hospital, and had attracted the
attention of Mr. Landells, the corresponding artist of the _Illustrated
London News_, who was first struck at the many peculiarities of this
vehicle, and afterwards more so with the production of my artist, when
he broke out into a genuine shout of laughter, after gazing for an
instant on my Zouave’s picture. Nothing for originality could have
matched it, but a late Turner, in its _demi-chef d’œuvre_, from which
the halo of glory had departed, and age had left genius alone
galavanting from his palette to its now immortal canvas. Turner did I
say--yes, and without disgracing the name of that great man; for in the
presence of Mr. Landells, my modern Stanfield, who was anxious to gather
as much as he could for the edification of his large family on a small
sheet of foolscap, and being compelled from the great heat of the
morning sun to keep in-doors, would occasionally get up and peep round
the corner. On being asked by Mr. Landells how he could see from where
he was sitting the entire range of the harbour, and more particularly
the Genoese Tower, which was situated directly opposite the back of my
hut, my clever Zouave, disgusted with Mr. Landells’ ignorance of the
rudiments of sketching, and vexed at being disturbed, quietly replied,
“D--- n it! did you not see me turn round the corner.”
“Pray don’t, my dear sir,” I exclaimed, “interrupt my artist; as you may
perceive he is a regular Turner--round the corner, I mean.”
With the courage of Don Quixote, but without a Sancho Panza, I undertook
my grand military review. I could not but regret the absence of my brave
travelling gent, Peter Morrison, who, through an assumed illness, had
three months previous abandoned the field of glory, thus terminating his
brave and brilliant military career; for had he been still with me, I
might have depended upon his formal refusal to follow me.
It was six in the morning: the sun was shining feebly through watery
clouds; the breeze blew freshly; the road was moist, my pony in good
order, sandwich-case full, leather bottle filled with brandy-and-water,
and my revolver loaded. My mind was full of anxiety and wild reverie,
for I was about to pass a review of, to me, a defunct army, with the
fortunes of which I had been so intimately connected during the war. I
knew that upon my return to England I should only meet a few fragments
of this splendid force, and not the entire mass, as I had done in the
Crimea. I had twelve hours before me.
I commenced at the Sanatorium Hospital, which had been to me such a
scene of animation and vivid interest. A mournful silence reigned in
this small wooden city. My kitchens had suffered the least in the
terrible ordeal; all the framework and brick stoves were still standing,
and looked just as if waiting to be again put in action. The grand row
of huts forming the various wards, without being much disturbed, were
rather in a state of dilapidation. Lastly, I visited Miss Nightingale’s
sanatorium residence, situated on the peak of a rock at the end of the
row of huts. This wooden palace, with its rough verandah, was divided
into three separate apartments, giving it a more cheerful appearance
than the rest. The iron stove, and its rusty pipe, beds, &c., had been
removed, but the remainder of the furniture was intact. Tables, benches,
wooden stools, empty pots and bottles which had contained medical
comforts, a few rags, a piece of an apron, no end of waste paper, a pair
of wooden shoes, and a live cat that appeared to have lived upon the
remnants of the kitchen-diets, or more likely the rats, met my inquiring
gaze. I caught Miss Puss and closeted her in Miss Nightingale’s
store-room, with the wooden stool in daily use, intending to send for
both at night. The latter I proposed to keep as a relic, and to restore
the former to society by either taking him on board ship or letting him
loose in the town. I sent my servant; but the pillage had
commenced--the cat was gone, and I only got the stool.
Anxious to continue my tour of inspection, I ascended the mountain
towards the old Sardinian camp, lately occupied by a few English
regiments shortly before embarkation. In the space of a few hundred
yards I passed not less than six cemeteries--viz., the one for the
Sisters of Mercy and doctors, Sailors’ Hospital, Sanatorium, a large
Turkish one, and two belonging to the Sardinian troops. Leaving the
Marmora Monument on the left and the Nightingale Cross on the right, I
merely cast a _coup-d’œil_ to the tumble-down Sardinian hospital and
fragment of camp, and took the road to Kamara. Not a soul did I meet for
three miles while crossing the rustic road, cutting immediately through
the peak of these lofty mountains, with their base in the Euxine on one
side, and on the other, through deep ravines, solemnly reposing on
Balaklava’s glorious plain. No, nothing but a poor horse, who had been
ineffectually shot, was grazing near a pool of blood. Life, the mother
of all, seemed to have rescued him from the grasp of Death--the animal
was no longer bleeding, the perforation made by the bullet appeared to
be healing up. I gathered him a heap of grass, gave him some water from
an adjacent rocky rivulet, washed his wound, and to my regret abandoned
him.
Shortly after, I crossed through the late camp of the Highland Division,
through the vales, dales, and rocky mountains of Kamara. Russian
officers and soldiers had taken possession of Sir Colin Campbell and
General Cameron’s head-quarters, with its green turret. Although no
sentries were posted, any quantity of Tartars were wandering about laden
with spoils of the deserted camp. What a contrast! Only a few days ago
this picturesque spot was all life and animation; indeed the cloth was
hardly removed from the festive board, the echo of the shrill pibroch
was still vibrating through the adjacent mountains. It was there, only a
short time since, that I bade farewell to the brave generals, Sir Colin
Campbell and Cameron. Space will not allow me further to descant on the
past beauties of this scene; a volume could be filled with its
splendours. Not a mile from there stand the fortifications, and
mud-built huts of the Sardinians, looking more like a deserted
rabbit-warren than the abode of an army; it was on this spot they
bravely withstood the attack of the enemy at the battle of the Tchernaya
on the 16th of August, 1855. Gipsy families had taken possession of a
farm and small church on the left, which is so well known. I looked with
amazement at the once blooming gardens of the French camp, and the
myriads of wild flowers. Death and desolation seemed then to be the only
attendants on this once fascinating scene. Crossing the plain of
Balaklava at full gallop, over the celebrated ground where the grand
charge of cavalry took place, a distance of several miles, I perceived a
white speck: it was the remains of the grand ball-room built by the
French in honour of the birth of the Imperial Prince. Heaps of ruins
were perceptible at a great distance; this was the once over-populated,
but now deserted, Kadikoi. A few minutes after I reached the plateau of
Inkermann, arriving near the celebrated windmill where, at the time of
this battle, his Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge and staff were
encamped (see Addenda). I next proceeded through the park of artillery,
and went direct to the Light Division’s head-quarters, carefully
inspecting the late abode of Lord William Paulet, where once more I met
with a most cheering reception, this time from a Tartar family who had
taken possession, and they supplied myself and horse with refreshment.
The only gloomy reminiscence from this spot was the sight of the
numerous graveyards, where mother earth had wrapped in her bosom all
that was mortal of many hundreds of her brave sons. At the bottom of the
ravine the watering-place for the horses still remained. The water, as
usual, was gurgling on its way from tub to tub; an abandoned mule was
alone slaking his thirst where once hundreds of horses were to be seen
drinking. From here it took me only a few seconds to reach the Second
Division and General Barnard’s head-quarters. The Russians by this time
had indeed taken possession of all he had left there, though still I
must say that all things were here kept in good order; labouring men
were making a garden close to the hut. Soon after this, roaming to the
top of Cathcart’s Hill, I found the theatre and canteen in perfect
keeping, both having been burnt to the ground. Soyer’s villarette,
though very dilapidated, still remained. The green plot of grass was in
great disorder, no doubt the work of the loose horses, who, anticipating
a feed, had found to their disgust that art, for once, had been
triumphant over nature, and they accordingly vented their spite upon the
painted grass. The clergyman’s hut had been respected. General Garrett’s
palazzo had been invaded by an indescribable _miscellanea_ of animals.
The rocky grotto, which had been severally tenanted by General Sir John
Campbell, General Wyndham, General Paulet, General Bentinck, and his
Grace the Duke of Newcastle, was left to the mercy of the rats, who here
vegetated by hundreds; the floor was strewn with rags, paper, and other
rubbish, which had been gathered by these industrious and destructive
vermin.
Immediately after ascending and descending three steps, hat in hand, I
paid my last solemn duty and respects to the resting-place of the dead
brave. A picture indeed it was to see the respect paid to those who had
so gloriously died for their country’s cause--Père la Chaise or Kensal
Green could not look in better condition than this solitary cemetery.
With my heart full of emotion I bade adieu to this consecrated spot, and
retired. Once more, and for the last time, I gazed on the ruins of
Sebastopol. Life seemed to have deserted this once mighty city; one
solitary chimney alone emitted smoke; the sun was still shining on this
defunct place, which a few days previous I had visited in detail, and
found still in the deserted state so often described.
Crossing Lord A. Russell’s Rifle’s quarters, I soon arrived in the Third
Division. General Adams’s villarette had been turned into a farmhouse;
sheep and other cattle grazed in the ravine.
From this spot I visited the General Hospital located in this division;
which I found in a similar state as the Sanatorium. Not a sign of life
was perceptible in this mournful spot, where so lately I had witnessed
so many painful scenes. From here I journeyed to the Brigade of Guards,
the theatre of my semi-martial _début_, having previously inspected the
intermediate camp. All was as silent as the grave. A line of obstruction
lay on the ground where once the busy railway passed. The Rokeby Castle
and its vicinity had the appearance of a travelling caravan of gipsies
reposing; children in rags escaped from the group to solicit alms; a few
halfpence contented them. In the camp, the kitchen and a number of huts
had been burnt down; the mess-room of Colonel Foley was still ornamented
with the rustic chandelier which had been bequeathed to me by the
gallant colonel before his leaving. Colonels Walker, De Bathe, and the
late Colonel Drummond’s habitations were selected as a home by the
wandering tribe of gipsies.
General Craufurd’s head-quarters were uninhabited; a few loose horses
were grazing near, on the celebrated cricket-ground. The close of my
visit was to the English and French head-quarters; in the former I was
informed the proprietor had reinstated himself on his domains. The
turmoil and traffic of war had here given place to the quietude and
repose of peace. The post-office, telegraph, and printing machines had
ceased their movements; the vineyards alone appeared refreshing to the
eye. Dr. Hall’s snuff-box hut was left open, and partly unroofed;
General Wyndham’s quarters were quite deserted. The rope curtains taken
from the Redan, and laid on the ground before the hut door, was all that
remained which I could recognise, as they had upon my demand, been
presented to me by the general’s aide-de-camp, whose name, to my regret,
has escaped my memory.
The French head-quarters presented a similar aspect, but was more
animated by crowds of adventurers.
Having on my way home taken a glimpse at the ruins of the Seacole
Tavern, Land Transport Corps, Army Works Corps, and hospital, I arrived
at Bleak House (the head-quarters of Mr. Doyne the engineer), which was
drearier than ever, and, like a lost balloon in mid air, entirely
deserted; all that remained was the almost indescribable view which, at
one glance, stamped the scene as something more than beautiful. From
the rock where I stood I could pass in review the remainder of the
camp, as yet unexplored by me. On my left once lay Colonel Wood’s park
of artillery, and towards it were a few mules clambering, led by
Tartars. At the foot of the hill were Captain Gordon’s late quarters;
further on, on the next mound, were the head-quarters of the Land
Transport Corps, in the occupation of Colonel M’Murdo and Captain Evans;
but the most striking object in view was the combined Railway Station
and Engine House, once the focus of noise, but now the abode of repose.
In abandoning this rural spot, and running my eye a few hundred yards
below me, lay a most charmingly built villarette, most suitably called
Prospect House, which was the private residence of Mr. Doyne. Science
had here conquered what was wanting in material; the goddess Flora had,
like the owner, abandoned this pretty landscape; the dry soil and the
sun’s rays had “dishabilled” each root from its flower. The cavalry camp
and its numerous rows of stables were the last I visited. Dusk gently
stole over the horizon when I re-entered the Col of Balaklava. The stars
were brightly shining; it was nine o’clock; every bell in the harbour
was tolling. Before retiring to rest no less than thirty-seven
cemeteries did I count on my daily tablet, which I had passed during my
solitary wandering.
The night before the surrender of Balaklava, a large fire broke out in
the village of Kadikoi, which, had the wind been high, would have
destroyed more than a thousand huts. As usual, the miscreant who had
done the mischief escaped detection. General Sir W. Codrington was much
vexed at this, as some huts had been sold to the Russian officers. I
was, in consequence, deputed by Mr. Bennett, of the Army Works Corps,
who was just leaving in another vessel, (at that time I was on board the
_Argo_, and ready to sail the following day) to accompany the Russian
officer to Sir W. Codrington, to inform him of the fact that the money
had been received, and to request that it might be returned. Sir
William, though overwhelmed with business, it being the eve of his
departure, kindly attended to the Russian officer’s request; and the
next morning, as I was going on board the _Argo_, I had the pleasure of
meeting the Commander-in-chief on his way to the spot where the fire had
taken place, in order to assure himself that the huts burnt were those
which had been paid for. I had a short walk and conversation with Sir
William upon various subjects, and took the opportunity of thanking him
for the following letter, with which he had kindly favoured me,
containing his opinion of my culinary services during the war:--
BALAKLAVA, _July 9th, 1856_.
I believe Monsieur Soyer to have given great assistance in showing
the soldier how to get the best meal from the food that is given to
him; and I have no doubt Monsieur Soyer’s stoves accomplish this
purpose in a standing camp or barracks with but little expenditure
of fuel. It gives me great pleasure to say that Monsieur Soyer has
always been ready to advise and personally superintend the carrying
out improvements in the system of cooking: his knowledge and
attention have therefore been of service to the army in the Crimea.
W. CODRINGTON, _General_.
We then parted, the general going to Kadikoi; and I, to select my berth,
and see Miss Nightingale’s carriage shipped.
The day turned out fine, though rather gloomy in the early part, and
very windy. As the last day of such a series of fine weather, it was
anything but a promising farewell. At twelve precisely, the keys of
Balaklava were to be given up. A picket of the Land Transport Corps were
placed on the small bridge at the Col of Balaklava.
A few minutes after, three or four gentlemen sailors, accompanied by
some parties whom we at first took for heroic Kadikoi tradesmen, arrived
at full gallop, crying out--“The Russians are coming!” which report
spread alarm through the camp, and in less than two minutes caused all
the troops, twenty-five in number, to be under arms, and rush full speed
upon the assailants, by whom they were entirely defeated--as in a few
minutes Balaklava was retaken, and has ever since remained in the hands
of the Russians. Thus ended that friendly battle of which I was so
anxious to be an eye-witness, where champagne flowed freely in lieu of
blood.
The grand reception and ceremony was to take place at the Commandant’s
head-quarters. A few minutes after twelve, Captain Stamaki, the new
governor of Balaklava, made his appearance, accompanied by only one
aide-de-camp. Being met by the English authorities, he made a full stop,
and the password was exchanged, I believe, in the Greek language. The
governor of Balaklava then galloped into his new kingdom. In about
twenty minutes a body-guard of about seventy men, some on foot and some
mounted, made their appearance. The horsemen, upon nearer approach, we
found to be a picket of Cossacks. When about one hundred yards from the
bridge, the British picket went towards them--the Russians having
halted. This conventional performance lasted but a few minutes; and
then, the British posts were relieved by the Russians as they passed on
their way to the commandant’s, where they were received by Sir W.
Codrington, General Garrett, Admirals Freemantle, Stewart, Captain
Codrington, &c. &c. A squadron of the 56th, the last regiment remaining
in the Crimea, were in attendance with their band. On one side were the
English, and the Russians opposite, for the first time on duty facing
each other in friendly feeling. The centre was occupied by the
authorities. Amongst the group of lookers-on was the illustrious Mrs.
Seacole, dressed in a riding-habit; and for the last time this excellent
mother was bidding farewell to all her sons, thus ending her benevolent
exertions in the Crimea. Having given her my parting salute, I left the
_mère noire_ for the Black Sea. The sun shone brightly upon that
animated group, now performing the last scene of the great drama enacted
upon those shores.
A few minutes after the curtain had fallen, spectators and performers
had separated, and all were entering upon their new duties. The last
remnant of the British army was that day ordered to sail for home.
The weather, which had been rather boisterous, increased in violence;
and in consequence, the captain of the _Argo_, with whom I had been in
company since the morning to witness the grand closing scene, made sure
that we should not sail till the next day. He therefore proposed
inviting several of the Russian officers to dine on board. This I
immediately communicated to them in French, and they politely accepted
the invitation. The party was six in number: among those invited, was
Monsieur le Conte de Maison, a French nobleman, who had lived many years
in Russia, and was a large proprietor in the Crimea. After replying to
several of his questions, I told him my name. He appeared doubly
interested, having heard, as he said, so much about me in the Crimea. In
Russia this gentleman was looked upon as an epicure, and probably the
interest he felt in my acquaintance had something to do with the good
dinner he anticipated. Dinner was to have been upon the table at six,
and at half-past five the boat of the _Argo_ was to fetch them on board.
All was settled, and a pleasant evening with our new friends expected. A
violent shower of rain scattered us in all directions, and, much to our
sorrow, we never met again.
We had hardly regained the ship, when Admiral Stewart came on board and
ordered the captain to sail immediately. I went home through the rain to
inform my people of the sudden change of orders, and found they had
already heard the news and had started. I arrived just in time to
prevent a Tartar stealing one of my horses, of which I had made a
present to Mr. Smith, a wine-merchant, as there was no possibility of
selling him. Horse-dealing with the Russians about that time was pretty
much after this fashion: a rather decent horse would fetch from three to
five roubles--which latter sum makes a pound sterling. Under these
circumstances, to place them in good hands was not only a charity, but a
duty.
Everybody had got on board, and the new-comers were under shelter. The
rain fell heavily, and not a soul did I meet in my way from the General
Hospital to the _Argo_, which was lying at the other side of the
harbour. Nobody was out but myself, my horse, and my umbrella, which I
had much difficulty in holding up in the gale I was then braving. The
thousands who had witnessed and mingled with the noisy crowd which for
so many months had encumbered the place, can form but a faint idea of
the gloomy appearance of the desolate Balaklava.