Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War.
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Title: Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War.
Author: Alexis Soyer
Release date: April 15, 2013 [eBook #42544]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOYER'S CULINARY CAMPAIGN: BEING HISTORICAL REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE WAR. ***
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Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images available at The Internet Archive)
[Illustration: _The Author._
_From a Photograph by Bingham, (Paris)_]
SOYER’S
CULINARY CAMPAIGN.
BEING HISTORICAL REMINISCENCES
OF THE LATE WAR.
WITH
THE PLAIN ART OF COOKERY
FOR
MILITARY AND CIVIL INSTITUTIONS, THE ARMY, NAVY,
PUBLIC, ETC. ETC.
BY ALEXIS SOYER,
AUTHOR OF “THE MODERN HOUSEWIFE,” “SHILLING COOKERY FOR THE PEOPLE,”
ETC.
LONDON:
G. ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON STREET.
NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET.
1857.
[_The right of translation is reserved._]
LONDON:
SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS,
CHANDOS STREET.
TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD PANMURE, K.T.
ETC. ETC. ETC.
MY LORD,
Grateful, indeed, do I feel for the unlimited confidence reposed in me
by your Lordship during my late Mission in the East, and especially so
for your kind condescension in permitting me to dedicate to your
Lordship this work, which at once puts the final seal to your Lordship’s
appreciation of my humble services.
With the most profound respect,
I have the honour to remain,
My Lord,
Your Lordship’s most humble and dutiful Servant,
ALEXIS SOYER.
PREFACE.
The Author of this work begs to inform his readers that his principal
object in producing his “Culinary Campaign” is to perpetuate the
successful efforts made by him to improve the dieting of the Hospitals
of the British army in the East, as well as the soldiers’ rations in the
Camp before Sebastopol.
The literary portion the Author has dished up to the best of his
ability; and if any of his readers do not relish its historical
contents, he trusts that the many new and valuable receipts, applicable
to the Army, Navy, Military and Civil Institutions, and the public in
general, will make up in succulence for any literary deficiencies that
may be found in its pages.
At the same time, the Author takes this opportunity of publicly
returning his most grateful thanks to the late authorities at the seat
of war for their universal courtesy, friendship, and great assistance,
without which success would have been an impossibility.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
INTRODUCTION.--A SUPPER AT THE “ALBION,” AND
ITS CONSEQUENCES 1
I. BY RAIL AND COACH TO VIRGINIA WATER 13
II. A SUMMONS TO STAFFORD HOUSE 29
III. OFF TO THE WAR 36
IV. DELIGHTS OF TRAVEL 49
V. COMFORT ON SHORE AND PENANCE AT SEA 57
VI. THE LAND OF THE MOSLEM 70
VII. A BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF CONSTANTINOPLE FROM PERA 83
VIII. FIRST VIEW OF THE SCENE OF ACTION 91
IX. COMMENCEMENT OF THE CULINARY CAMPAIGN 101
X. A TOUR ROUND THE KITCHENS 111
XI. FIRST OPERATIONS 124
XII. THE SCUTARI MISSION ACCOMPLISHED 134
XIII. DEPARTURE FOR THE CRIMEA 147
XIV. COMMENCEMENT OF MY CAMPAIGN IN THE CRIMEA 160
XV. THE ENGLISH AND TURKISH COMMANDERS-IN-CHIEF 180
XVI. A NEW ENEMY 191
XVII. RECEPTION AT ENGLISH AND FRENCH HEAD-QUARTERS 200
XVIII. A UNIVERSAL CALAMITY 213
XIX. HAPS AND MISHAPS IN CAMP 227
XX. EXPEDITIONS ON HORSE AND ON FOOT 239
XXI. MATTERS GRAVE AND GAY 250
XXII. PREPARATIONS FOR ANOTHER TRIP 266
XXIII. OUR STEAM VOYAGE IN THE “LONDON” 289
XXIV. THREE WEEKS AT SCUTARI 297
XXV. FESTIVITIES AT SCUTARI AND VISITS TO FRENCH HOSPITALS 315
XXVI. MY SECOND TRIP TO THE CRIMEA 325
XXVII. CAMP LIFE AT HEAD-QUARTERS 334
XXVIII. MY GREAT FIELD-DAY 350
XXIX. THE EIGHTH OF SEPTEMBER 364
XXX. FALL OF THE DOOMED CITY 375
XXXI. ILLNESS AND CHANGE OF SCENE 385
XXXII. CAMP OF THE FOURTH DIVISION 400
XXXIII. HOSTILITIES AT TABLE 415
XXXIV. CRIMEAN FESTIVITIES 433
XXXV. LAST DAYS OF BRITISH OCCUPATION OF THE CRIMEA 459
XXXVI. LAST SCENE OF OUR STRANGE EVENTFUL HISTORY 484
ADDENDA 513
ERRATA.
In page 6, _for_ “Little Jack,” _read_ “Little Ben.”
Page 32, line 12, _for_ “I think,” _read_ “She thinks.”
A CULINARY CAMPAIGN
BY
A. SOYER
ILLUSTRATED BY H. G. HINE.
[Illustration: Title Page]
INTRODUCTION.
A SUPPER AT THE “ALBION,” AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.
Old Drury--Juvenile mirth--A sudden arrest--An invitation--No
excuse--Getting home--Mind your pockets--A trip to the
“Wellington”--An intelligent waiter--Reading the news--A sudden
inspiration--Letter to the _Times_--The stupid waiter again--Little
Jack--Supper fare--Receipts--Tough kidneys--How to cook
them--Kidneys _à la_ Roberto Diavolo--Kidneys _à la brochette_--New
bill of fare for London Suppers.
“Hurrah! hurrah! bravo! bravo!” For a few minutes rounds of applause and
shouts of laughter from the juveniles were heard and loudly re-echoed
throughout the vast cupola of Old Drury, sending home the delighted
spectators, in fits of sneezing and coughing, through a variegated
atmosphere. Sir Henry W----, turning to me, exclaimed, “Hallo, Mr.
Soyer, the pantomime is over early this evening!” and looking at his
watch, continued, “Why, it is only half-past eleven o’clock.”
“Yes, Sir Henry; but quite late enough for children, who after this time
begin to mingle gaping with laughter.”
“True enough,” replied Sir Henry; “it is painful to see those dear
cherubs kept at the theatre till midnight, or even later. Have you been
long here?”
“No,” I replied, “only a few minutes; just time enough to witness the
grand finale, and to hear the screaming and laughter of the children,
which to me is always very amusing.”
“Very true, very true; I am of your opinion, and never tire of
children’s mirth.”
In a few minutes the theatre was nearly emptied of spectators, but still
full of smoke. Considering myself that evening as free as a butterfly on
a spring morning, though unable, like that light-hearted insect, to
flit from flower to flower, I was trying to escape, with the swiftness
of an eel, down the gigantic and crowded staircase, hoping to get off
unobserved, as I had to start early in the morning for the country, when
suddenly a friendly hand pressed me forcibly by the arm. The owner of
the same cried, “Stop! stop! my friend; I have been hunting all over the
theatre for you.” I at once recognised an old Devonshire acquaintance,
whom I was indeed much pleased to see, having received a most kind
reception from him at my last visit to that delightful county--so justly
named the garden of England.
“Well, my dear sir,” said he, “myself and several acquaintances of yours
are here for a few days, and have ordered a supper this evening at the
‘Albion.’ We heard you were at Drury Lane, and I have come to ask you to
join us.”
“I must say it is very kind of you, Mr. Turner; but you must excuse me,
as I am going as far as St. James’s-street, by appointment; besides, I
leave for the country early to-morrow morning. But I shall be happy to
spend to-morrow evening with you and your friends; therefore, I beg you
will apologise for me.”
“To-morrow very likely we shall be off again; we only came for a couple
of days, to breathe the London air, and then return.”
“I beg your pardon--you mean London fog, not air.”
“Why, yes, fog should be the word; but for all that, I love London in
any season; so no excuse--I shall not leave you; you must join us, or
your friend the squire will be greatly disappointed. He came from the
Great Western Hotel this evening on purpose to see you.”
Finding it almost impossible to get out of it, and my friend having
promised we should break up early, I accepted, saying, “You must allow
me to go as far as the ‘Wellington,’ as I have an appointment there; I
will be back in about half-an-hour.”
My incredulous country friend would not grant permission till I had
assured him that I would faithfully keep my promise, and return.
This dialogue took place in the entrance of the vestibule, where a
number of ladies and children were waiting--some for their carriages and
broughams, others for those public inconveniences called cabs. This bevy
of beauty and group of children, the pride of young England, seemed to
interest my provincial friend so much, that I had some trouble to get
him out. It was then nearly twelve o’clock. The front steps were also
crowded; the weather was chilly and damp; a thick yellowish fog,
properly mixed with a good portion of soot, formed a shower of black
pearls, which, gracefully descending through the murky air, alighted,
without asking permission, upon the rosy cheeks of unveiled fair dames,
spotting their visages, if not _à la_ Pompadour or _à la_ Watteau, at
least _à la_ Hogarth. A few steps lower we entered a dense crowd--a most
unpicturesque miscellany of individuals, unclassically called, the
London mob. “Mind your pockets,” said I to my country friend.
“By Jove, it’s too late,” said he, feeling in his pocket--“my
handkerchief is gone!”
“Is that all?” I inquired.
“Well, let me see,” he observed, feeling again: “yes, thank God! my
watch and purse are quite safe.”
“Ah,” I continued, laughing, “the old adage which prompts us to thank
God for all things is quite correct; for you are actually thanking Him
for the loss of your handkerchief.”
“Not at all,” he replied; “I was thanking Him for the safety of my watch
and purse.” After a hearty laugh we parted, he going to the “Albion,”
and I to the “Wellington.”
On my arrival there, I found that my friend had been and was gone. My
intelligent cabby soon brought me back through the dense atmosphere to
that far-famed temple of Comus, at which crowds of celebrities meet
nightly--some to restore themselves internally, others to sharpen their
wits at that tantalising abode of good cheer. Upon entering, I inquired
of a waiter, a stranger to me, if he could inform me where my six
friends intended to sup.
“Yes, sir, directly.” Speaking down the trumpet: “Below! a Welsh rabbit
and fresh toast--two kidneys underdone--scalloped oyster--a chop--two
taters! Look sharp below!” To the barmaid: “Two stouts, miss--one
pale--four brandies hot, two without--one whisky--three gin--pint
sherry--bottle of port!”
“What an intelligent waiter!” thought I, “to have so good a memory.”
Having waited till he had given his orders, I again said, “Pray, my fine
fellow, in which room are my friends going to sup? They have a private
room, no doubt?”
“Yes, sir, a private room for two.”
“No, not for two--for six.”
“Oh! I don’t mean that, sir: I want a rump-steak for two,” said he;
“stewed tripe for one--three grogs--bottle pale Bass.” And off he went
to the coffee-room.
“Plague upon the fellow!” said I to myself.
As the barmaid could not give me any information upon the subject, and I
perceived through a half-opened door on the right-hand side of the bar a
table laid for six, I went in, making sure it was for my friends, and
that they had not yet arrived. Indeed, I had myself returned from my
appointment much sooner than I had expected. I sat down, and was reading
the evening paper, when a waiter came in. “After you with the paper,
sir.”
“I have done; you may take it.”
“There’s the _Times_, sir, if you have not seen it.”
“No, I have not; let me have a look at it.” After reading one of the
leaders, my attention was drawn to a long article written by the Crimean
correspondent of that journal. When I had read it carefully a second
time, a few minutes’ reflection on my part enabled me to collect my
ideas, and established in my mind a certain assurance that I could, if
allowed by Government, render service in the cooking of the food, the
administration of the same, as well as the distribution of the
provisions. These were matters in which I could detect, through the
description of that eye-witness, the writer of the above-mentioned
article, some change was much needed. I therefore wrote the following
letter to the _Times_, it being then nearly one o’clock in the
morning:--
THE HOSPITAL KITCHENS AT SCUTARI.
_To the Editor of the Times._
SIR,--After carefully perusing the letter of your correspondent,
dated Scutari, in your impression of Wednesday last, I perceive
that, although the kitchen under the superintendence of Miss
Nightingale affords so much relief, the system of management at the
large one in the Barrack-hospital is far from being perfect. I
propose offering my services gratuitously, and proceeding direct to
Scutari, at my own personal expense, to regulate that important
department, if the Government will honour me with their confidence,
and grant me the full power of acting according to my knowledge and
experience in such matters.
I have the honour to remain, Sir,
Your obedient servant,
A. SOYER.
_Feb. 2, 1855._
After despatching this letter, I again inquired about my friends and my
anticipated supper, which for some time had escaped my memory. “Did you
ring, sir?”
“No, I did not, sir, but the bell has;” recognising my stupid waiter.
“Oh, sir! are you here?”
“Of course I am; don’t you see me?”
“Well, sir, your friends have had supper; they inquired everywhere for
you; I told them you could not wait, as you had two ladies to see home
as far as Brompton.”
“You foolish fellow! I never spoke to you about ladies, Brompton, or any
such thing; I merely asked you where my friends were to sup; to which
you replied, ‘Rump-steak for two, tripe for one, two taters, pat of
butter, one pale Bass, and three kidneys for a gentleman, underdone.’”
“No more you did, sir. It was number three who told me to say so; not
you, sir; you’re quite right, sir!”
“I am sure I am right; but as for you, your head is quite wrong!”
“Well, I assure you, sir, we have so much to do at times, we hardly know
what we are about.”
“I don’t think you do,” said I, sharply.
“But I tell you what, sir, they are there still, and you had better go
to them.”
“No, it is too late now; give them this note from me when they go out;
and here is sixpence for yourself, for through your mistake you have
after all rendered me a service. I did not wish to come here this
evening, as I have an early engagement for to-morrow, so I will have a
bit of supper and go home.”
“Well, do, sir; I thank you, and am very glad I have given you
satisfaction at last.”
“Send Little Jack here; he knows what I like for supper.”
“Hallo, Mr. Soyer, everybody in the coffee-room has been inquiring after
you this evening,” said Little Jack upon entering.
“I know; but that foolish waiter who was here just now made such a mull
of everything, that he quite upset our party; I could not get any answer
from him, so I made sure this table was laid out for us, and here I
stuck.”
“No, sir, your friends supped in the coffee-room, and are still there,
if you like to have your supper near them.”
“No, no; give me what you like here.”
“What shall it be, sir? oysters, broiled kidneys, chops, steaks, stewed
tripe, broiled bones?”
“Have you nothing else?”
“Yes, sir, grilled fowl and scalloped oysters; only they will take some
time preparing.”
“Well, give me scalloped oysters, and my favourite Welsh rare-bit, made
in my style--you know; a pint of port wine, and fresh toast for the
rare-bit.”
“Yes, sir; the cook knows--I’ll tell him it is for you.”
“But how is it you never vary your supper bill of fare? it is very
scanty of choice for such a large tavern as this. I do not mean to
complain, but give a little change now and then, by introducing a few
new dishes.”
“Ah! you’re right, sir; it would please the customers, and be much
better for us waiters, to have something new to offer; but, bless you,
sir! I have been many years in this place, and it was always the same;
and no doubt will remain so for as long again, unless a gentleman like
you takes it in hand--they would then attend to it; but, of course, you
have something else to do.”
“So I have; yet I don’t see why, in my next book upon cookery, I should
not devote a few pages to the London suppers. I intend doing so, and,
when published, I shall be happy to present you with a copy.”
“That will be first-rate, sir; I thank you, and wont I recommend the new
dishes _à la_ Soyer, as some of our customers call them!”
“Well, my man, upon second thoughts, as you seem so anxious about it,
and I am not going to join my friends, give me a pen and ink, and while
supper is preparing, I will write a few practical receipts, which can be
easily introduced without interfering with your duty or the kitchen;
they will, no doubt, prove agreeable to your customers, who are in
general a class of _bon vivants_, fond of good things as well as of
variety in the bill of fare.”
“Here is the pen, paper, and ink, sir.”
“Thank you; come again in about twenty minutes, and they shall be ready;
or, if you are not in a hurry, stay.”
“No, sir, I am not; our supper business is over.”
“Well, now listen: first, I do not intend to criticise your bill of
fare, which is as much varied, if not more so, than that offered at
other large taverns, and it is quite as well executed. Now, respecting
kidneys--you consume a large quantity of them?”
“So we do, sir.”
“Then I will give you a receipt or two for dressing them:--
No. 1.--Take two kidneys, split them lengthways as close to the
sinew as possible without parting them; remove the thin skin, lay
them flat upon the table, and season rather highly with salt and
pepper; then run them crossways upon a wooden, metal, or silver
skewer, forcing the sinew upwards; this will prevent their curling
up again while cooking. Next dip them in some well-beaten eggs, to
which you have added about a table-spoonful of dissolved butter; or
rub them over with a paste-brush, which will do it more equally;
roll them in fine bread-crumbs, and slightly beat them on both
sides with the flat of your knife to cause the ‘crumbs to stick to
the kidneys. Put them upon the gridiron, over a sharp fire, at a
proper distance; they will require from five to eight minutes
doing, according to size.
For the uninitiated, the following plan is the best to ascertain
when they are properly done. Press with the prongs of a fork or the
point of the knife upon the thick part of the kidney; if done
through, it will feel firm and elastic to the touch. When the
kidneys are done, slip them off the skewer on to a hot dish, and
place in each a piece of butter, _à la maître d’hôtel_, about the
size of a small walnut; send to table, and by the time it reaches
the guest, the butter will be half melted; quite so when the kidney
is cut by the customer, who, by turning the pieces and blending the
butter with the gravy, will make a rich sauce, and partake of a
delicious as well as a wholesome dish.
“Partaking of overdone kidneys at night is the forerunner of the
nightmare.”
“You’re right, sir; that it is,” said Little Jack; “for at times we have
some left, and keep them warm for supper; and they get as tough as
pieces of leather, when after eating three or four--and I am always very
tired at night--I never can sleep. Now I think of it, the tough kidneys
must be the cause; and if I do sleep, Mr. Soyer, I have such awful
dreams that I feel more fatigued when I rise than when I go to bed.”
“Of course,” I replied, “I am well aware of that; they cannot digest;
therefore, you see the importance of having them properly done.”
“Very much so indeed; I quite understand it now, and perceive that if
they cannot at all times be done to perfection, underdone is much
preferable to overdone. I perfectly understand you, sir; but you see we
require such a quantity.”
“Well, I have only given you the receipt for two. I will now, if you
like, give you the receipt for a hundred.”
“Do, sir; that will suit us better.”
“I suppose they are most in request for supper?”
“Indeed they are, sir.”
“Then, in the course of the day, the cook should prepare a hundred
precisely as the first--viz., ready for cooking. They should be put upon
skewers, two, three, or four in a row; so that, when called for, he has
only to remove them from the larder to the gridiron. About two pounds of
butter _à la maître d’hôtel_ should be prepared and kept in a cool place
to be ready when required. By following this plan, you could easily cook
several hundred during the evening, if called for. Should any remain
unsold, they will keep till the next day, and will only require rolling
in the crumbs again previous to broiling.”
“I see, sir; it will save a great deal of time by having them prepared
beforehand.”
“But suppose you had none prepared beforehand, a dozen can soon be got
ready by an active cook. The addition of the dissolved butter to the
eggs keeps the kidneys fresh and moist, and inserting them upon the
skewer retains them flat, and they are cooked more regularly in half the
time; while without the skewer they curl up, and are frequently
underdone on one side and cooked too much on the other.”
“I plainly understand what you mean.”
“These details upon the same subject are perhaps tedious to you.”
“Not at all, sir; I see the importance of them.”
“Well, the other receipts will come quite plain and easy to you. To tell
the truth, I have had those overdone kidneys upon my conscience for some
time. Mind, I do not intend to erase the plain broiled kidneys from the
supper bill of fare, for I am very fond of them when properly cooked.”
“They are very good; and many gentlemen will not have them any other
way.”
“Well, I do not blame them, for they are both agreeable and nutritious
that way; but here is another appetizing receipt, which we will call _à
la_ Roberto Diavolo.”
No. 2.--Put two plain kidneys upon a skewer, and with a paste-brush
butter them over. Set them upon the gridiron as near the fire as
possible, for they cannot be done too fast; turn them every minute,
and when half done season with salt, pepper, and a small spoonful
of cayenne; chop some gherkins and a little green chillies, if
handy; or, instead of either, a table-spoonful of chopped picolilli
with the liquor. Put these on a hot plate, with a tea-spoonful of
lemon-juice and a pat of butter. Take up the kidneys, and slip them
burning hot from the skewer to the plate; turn them round four or
five times in the mixture, and serve immediately. A small piece of
glaze added to the butter will prove a great addition. Three, four,
or five minutes will do them, according to the size.
_Kidneys à la brochette, Paris fashion._
The Parisian _gourmet_ would not eat a kidney if it was not served
upon the silver skewer; the only merit of which is, that they keep
hot longer and look better than when the skewer is omitted; as they
often shrink, especially if the sinew has not been properly divided
in the splitting of them.
“As, no doubt, you have something to do, you had better leave me; I will
write a few more receipts. Bring me my supper in a quarter of an hour,
and they will be ready.”
“Very well, sir; I will give a look round and order your supper.”
To the minute Little Jack walked in with the scalloped oysters, which I
must admit looked remarkably tempting. He handed me my supper, but upon
reflection I did not hand him the receipts, only a list of their names,
intending to put them into the cookery-book I had promised him, knowing
well enough that it was not in his power to bring them out. He thanked
me for my lecture on cookery, as he called it, and the following bill of
fare. I paid my bill, and left.
_New Bill of Fare for Tavern Suppers._
Rump-steak and fried potatoes; ditto with shalot, pimento, and
anchovy butter. Relishing steak, fillet of beef, à la Parisienne;
ditto à la Chateaubriand.
Mutton chops à la bouchère; ditto semi-provençale; ditto Marseilles
fashion; ditto with relishing sauce.
Plain cutlets with fried potatoes, à la maître d’hôtel, à la
Sultana, semi-provençale.
Lamb chops à la boulangère, à l’Américaine, à la printanière.
Pork chops with pimento butter, à la Tartare; ditto camp fashion.
Veal cutlets en papillote; with maître d’hôtel butter; with
relishing butter; with fried potatoes.
Kidneys on toast, semi-curried; ditto with sherry or port; ditto
with champagne. For kidneys à la maître d’hôtel, à la brochette,
and à la Roberto Diavolo, see Receipts, page 10.
Stewed and curried tripe; ditto Lyonnaise fashion.
Lobsters au gratin in the shell; scalloped ditto; curried on toast;
lobster cutlets; new salad, Tartar fashion; plain salad with
anchovies; crabs au gratin in the shell; crab salad with eggs.
Grilled chicken and Sultana sauce; à la Roberto Diavolo, with
relishing sauce; new broiled devil, Mayonnaise sauce; chicken,
American fashion.
Stewed oysters on toast; ditto American fashion, au gratin; fried
oysters.
Omelettes with fine herbs, mushrooms, sprue grass, ham, and
parmesan; poached eggs with cream; ditto with maître-d’hôtel sauce;
semi-curried, with ham or bacon.
Buttered eggs with mushrooms, sprue grass, ham with shalots,
parsley, and chervil.
Mirrored eggs with tongue, ham, or bacon; curried eggs; ditto with
onion sauce and tomato sauce.
Rarebit à la Soyer with sherry or champagne.
Fried potatoes in slices; ditto with maître-d’hôtel butter; ditto
with Cayenne pepper.
Cold asparagus salad, while in season; new potato salad, German
fashion; ditto, French and haricot beans.[1]
For receipts in Bill of Fare, see Addenda.
A Hansom cab was waiting at the door, so I jumped in. “Beg your pardon,
sir, I am engaged,” said cabby; “but if you’re not going far, I think I
shall have plenty of time to take you.”
“Do so, my man; I live close by, in Bloomsbury-street, Bedford-square.
Here’s a shilling for you--go ahead, cabby.”
Pst! pst! and off we were. In a few minutes, thanks to the evaporation
of the thick fog and its having left only a feeble skeleton of its
former substance, I found myself at my street door, and was trying for
some time to open it with the wrong key, all the while thinking to
myself what an extraordinary and uncomfortable evening I had passed to
return so late. Perceiving my mistake, I changed the key; opening and
shutting the door violently, I rushed up stairs with the intention of
booking that evening in my daily tablet as one of the most tedious and
uncomfortable I had spent throughout the series of cheerful years
granted to me by a Supreme Power. The fire was out, the supper divided
between my two friends the Angola cats, the servants in bed, the gas
turned off, and the lucifers, I believe, gone to their Mephistophelian
domain.
CHAPTER I.
BY RAIL AND COACH TO VIRGINIA WATER.
An early visit--Virginia Water--An eccentric friend--Rail _v._
coach--Humour of the road--The old coachman--The widow--Sally’s
trouble--Another surprise--The “Wheatsheaf”--Beautiful
scenery--Letter from the Duchess of Sutherland.
A most curious dream haunted my mind throughout the night, one of those
indescribable phantasmagorian illusions which set all the vibrations of
the heart at work without moving the frame, or in imagination only,
quite depriving our senses for the time of the true sense of existence.
Scarcely had the first gleam of Aurora peeped through my curtains, than
a double knock was heard at the street door, apprising me that the time
for rising had come, and forthwith brought back my wandering senses to
the realities of human life: a minute after, a friend popped into my
dressing-room, exclaiming, “Hallo! so you are going to the seat of the
war, I hear.”
“The seat of the war! who told you so?”
“Why, the _Times_, to be sure; I have just read your letter, which, at
all events, is very likely to carry you as far as Constantinople.”
“You don’t say so! What! is my letter in the _Times_ to-day?”
“Of course it is,” he replied.
“I sent it so late last night, I did not suppose it could appear till
to-morrow, if at all.”
“They would not have inserted it, arriving so late, I assure you, had
they not thought it of great importance, and that you were likely to
improve the hospital diets. No doubt you will soon set them to rights. I
read the article, and must say I was much pleased when I saw your
letter, and that is what brought me here so early: but mind, it is a
long journey, and rather a dangerous one.”
“Well, my dear friend, if Government honour me with their confidence, I
shall be happy to start immediately, and rough it for a short time--say
a couple of months, which will be about the time required.”
“My opinion is, that you will soon hear from the authorities.”
“I say again, they are perfectly welcome to my humble services.”
“Are you going out this morning?”
“Yes, I am; excuse my shaving.”
“Oh, by all means; which way are you going?”
“Anywhere but to a wintry place.”
“Where’s that--Gravesend or Margate?”
“Oh dear, no--Virginia Water.”
“To stay?”
“No; only to settle a few important matters there, prior to my departure
for Paris.”
“You were there the best part of last summer.”
“So I was; who told you that?”
“Don’t you recollect the party you gave there, when Messrs. R---- and
ladies were present, with myself, my wife, and two daughters? We never
enjoyed such a day in our lives; it really was a splendid affair
altogether; and what an excellent dinner you gave us in the open air, in
the long avenue of beech trees facing the lake! I shall not forget it as
long as I live--I may say we, for my young ones often talk about it.
There were about twenty-four guests--you recollect, of course?”
“Certainly I do now, and what a lovely day it was!”
“Never saw a finer,” said my friend; “the ladies walked round the lake
without their bonnets, and with nothing but their parasols to screen
them from the sun. But I tell you who was most amusing amongst the
party--that old Yorkshire farmer.”
“Ha, ha! old Lawrence--he is a squire now, if you please, and has
retired. He was very kind to me on the occasion of the grand
agricultural dinner at Exeter; the ox I roasted whole upon that occasion
came from his farm; it was roasted by gas, and in the castle yard.”
“Ah, I recollect seeing an engraving of it in the _Illustrated London
News_; I can’t help laughing when I think of the old man, for at every
fresh dish of which he partook--and he tasted a good many--he
exclaimed--‘Well! hang me, if I know what stuff I am eating, but it’s
precious good!’”
“I know he is very eccentric; he stayed with me nearly a week, and
really made me laugh heartily with his genuine repartee. He is a good
and a charitable man, I assure you. I taught his housekeeper how to make
cheap soup while I was at his residence, and ever since the old
gentleman has given it four times a-week to the poor round his small
estate, during the winter season.”
“I know the soup you mean. I cut the receipt from the paper in the year
‘47, at the time of the famine in Ireland, when you were sent there by
Government.”
“Exactly.”
“We tried it ourselves; and my wife’s mother has ever since given it
throughout the winter to about twelve or fifteen poor people. The old
lady was at first obliged to make it herself, her cook saying that no
soup could be made with such a small quantity of meat. She would not
even attempt to make it.”
“I believe you; but those people are not aware that in Scotland, where
the strongest people in the British dominions are to be found, and
especially in the Highlands, they live principally upon oatmeal porridge
and vegetables, partaking of a very small portion of animal food;--and
did you ever see a finer carnation cheek, or purer blood, than that
which flows through the frame of a Scotch lassie, or in the veins of the
descendants of the Bruce?”
“No, never; not even on the Continent. But, to return to the receipts: I
would advise you to publish them. They would be eagerly purchased, and
would render greater service. You must be aware that a slip from a
newspaper is often lost.”
“Very true; and I intend to give a series of new receipts on food for
the poor, still more simplified.”[2]
“With reference to our conversation about old Lawrence: no doubt he is a
good fellow, and a genuine rough diamond into the bargain.”
“Yes,” said I, “and you may add, of the finest water. By the bye, didn’t
he go to bed rather top-heavy?”
“Ah, that he did, and fancied himself at home blowing up his old woman,
as he calls her, for having let the cat into the dairy, and being unable
to find his gun to shoot her. What most astonished the old boy, he told
me on the coach next morning on our way to London, was having no
headache and feeling as hungry as a hunter--as I did myself. He made
sure, after such a mixture of dishes, wines, liquors, and spirits of all
kinds, that he should be ill and unable to eat anything for a couple of
days. Quite the contrary, however: when at Staines, we made a hearty
breakfast at the hotel; and for my part, I never felt better in my
life.”
“And do you know,” I replied, “I should have been surprised if my dinner
had produced the contrary effect; rest assured, that a dinner well
conceived and properly executed, coupled with well-selected beverages,
is more than half digested. As Hippocrates says, very justly, ‘What
pleases the palate nourishes;’ and we may add, greatly helps to
accelerate the digestion when properly cooked. The palate alone can
relish the charm of degustation, and only feels satiated when the
stomach, being the working organ, refuses to deal with improper food,
never failing to acquaint you physically of its ill treatment, both as
regards ill-cooked food or bad beverages. Now, to illustrate this
argument more forcibly, I would wager that I could give a first-class
indigestion to the greatest _gourmet_, even while using the most
_recherché_ provisions, without his being able to detect any fault in
the preparation of the dishes of which he had partaken; and this simply
by improperly classifying the condiments used in the preparation; thus
deceiving the cleverest doctors and the finest palate by a mere
counterbalance of unctuous seasoning, which no doubt caused the
celebrated Leibnitz to say, in his treatise upon the chemistry of food,
now translated into English, and to which I have already referred in my
_Shilling Cookery Book_, ‘That among all the arts known to man, there is
none which enjoys a juster appreciation, and the products of which are
more universally admired, than that which is concerned in the
preparation of our food. Led by an instinct which has almost reached the
dignity of conscious knowledge, as the unerring guide, and by the sense
of taste, which protects the health, the experienced cook, with respect
to the choice, admixture, and preparation of food, has made acquisitions
surpassing all that chemical and physiological science have done in
regard to the doctrine or theory of nutrition.’”
“Well, no doubt if the celebrated Leibnitz, who is considered one of the
greatest authorities of the age, says so, you cannot be wrong, having
had so much practice in the culinary art.”
“I also maintain that with the simplest and cheapest of all aliments,
when in good condition, I have turned out a most wholesome and palatable
food, quite worthy of the most refined palate, or of that of the
initiated epicure. For instance, if only first-class provisions could be
converted into succulent dishes, the gastronomic bill of fare of this
sublunary world would indeed be so limited that more than two-thirds of
its inhabitants would be classified as martyrs to the Mageric art--or,
more plainly speaking, martyrs to the science of cookery--a too often
neglected art, though of daily requirement; for, believe me, the
everlasting pleasures of the table, which favour all ages, are not only
the basis of good health when properly managed, but also the soul of
sociability, not merely in high circles, but in every class of society,
no matter how humble, the stomach of each individual having been nursed
according to rank and wealth. Those most to be pitied are the real
epicures of limited means, or the wealthy man without appetite or of bad
digestion. The proverb is quite correct, ‘What the eye does not see the
heart cannot grieve;’ and appetite being the best of sauce, will cause
the coarsest food to be digested with delight by a robust stomach. By
the same rule, what is more relished by our noble epicure than a dry
sandwich or a coarse crust of bread and cheese at a farmhouse after a
hard day’s sport?”
“Upon my word, you are perfectly right; appetite is really the best of
sauce, for I often make a good and hearty supper upon baked potatoes, a
little salt, and butter.”
“Now, my friend, I am ready to start; come with me--it is a fine frosty
morning, and will do you good--come on.”
“I wish I could, but my City business is very heavy this morning, so I
must decline; besides, we have a railway meeting called for three
o’clock at the London Tavern.”
“Master, here’s a Hansom coming this way; shall I call it?”
“Yes, Annette, that’s a good girl.” I shook hands with my friend, and
jumped into the cab--“I say, coachman, look sharp and drive to the
Windsor railway station; I fear I shall miss the special train.”
“No, you will not,” said my friend, looking at his watch, “you have full
twenty minutes; good-bye, a pleasant journey.”
“Well, adieu! I shall see you some evening at Jullien’s or Drury Lane
Theatre.”
“Very probably.”
“Stay a minute, cabby;”--to the servant--“Annette, put any letters which
may come on my desk; if anybody calls, say I shall be here to-morrow or
next day at the latest.”
“Very well, sir, I will do so.”
On my arrival at the station, I merely had time to take my ticket and
run to the train, which was just on the move. In a few seconds we were
flying over rows of houses like vampires, leaving the then desolate
Royal property, Vauxhall tumble-down theatre, with its skeleton firework
frame, on the left. We passed through Chiswick, Barnes, Mortlake, Kew,
with its toyish pagoda, leaving to the left Richmond, with its
picturesque banks, cheerful villas, heroine of the hill, and its
exquisite maids of honour; at the same time crossing the Thames,
cheerfully smiling beneath us in its serpentine bed. Its limpid
currents flowed merrily downwards to the mighty ocean through green
bushes, aquatic plants, and the alabaster-coloured plumage of hundreds
of swans. In twenty-five minutes we arrived at Staines station. I
descended and immediately ascended again, but on the top of the Virginia
Water coach, which generally waits for the special train. “Very frosty
this morning, coachman.”
“Hallo, Mr. Soyer! is that you? We have not seen you God knows how long.
I suppose you have left us for good now?”
“No, not quite; but your flat and unpicturesque country looks so dull
and unsociable at this time of year.”
“Then you prefer town just now?” said he.
“I certainly do; there is always something to be seen there, and to keep
one alive, morning, noon, and night.”
“Very true, Mr. Soyer; we are very dull here in winter.” The top of the
coach was loaded with passengers. “Well, boy, what are you about below?”
“All right, coachman,” cried the parcel-boy. “Pst! pst! Go it, my
Britons!”
We were now at full trot, the north wind in our faces, and a kind of
heavy sleet, which in a few minutes changed the colour of our noses to a
deep crimson, very much like the unfashionable colour of beet-root,
freezing our whiskers and moustaches like sugar-candy, but by no means
quite so sweet-tasted. By way of a joke, I said to the coachman, “This
is the good old English way of travelling, is it not?”
“That it is, sir; and I’m very glad to see you know how to appreciate
it. Talk about your railways, it’s perfect nonsense compared with a good
four-in-hand coach, sir.” As he said this, he whipped his horses, “Pst!
go ahead, my true blue! I recollect the good old time when we took from
fourteen to fifteen hours from London to Dover, changing horses and
drinking your glass of grog at almost every inn on the road--in fact,
enjoying ourselves all night, especially when the widow was out.”
“What widow?” said I.
“The moon, to be sure!”
“That is a bright idea of yours. I was not aware the pale queen of night
was a widow.”
“Lord bless you, sir, she must be a widow, for she always comes out
alone, and keeps very late hours; a maid or a married woman can’t do
that, you know,” said he, laughing heartily.
“If your remark is not correct, it is at all events very original.”
“But to come back to coach-travelling--then you really knew if you were
travelling or stopping at home; while now they pack you up under lock
and key, in strong wooden boxes, such as we keep our horses in at the
stable; and at the head of them they have a kind of long iron saveloy,
full of nothing, which runs away with the lot like mad, belching and
swearing all the way, taking sights at us poor coachmen just so,”
putting his hand to his nose, “when we go by, as though we were a set of
ragamuffins. Call that a gentlemanly way of travelling, sir! They make
fun of all the passengers who are a little behind time, saying the like
of this: ‘Don’t you wish you may get it?’ If you drop anything by
accident, the deuce a bit will they stop to pick it up; and you are no
sooner in than they turn you out, and pocket your money without
blushing, the same as though they had dragged you about from morning
till night, as we used to do in the good old time. That was indeed money
honestly earned, sir!”
“There certainly is a great deal of truth in your argument,” said I,
laughing at his devotion to his old business.
“Is it not brimful of truth, sir?”
“Of course it is!” I was by this time about half frozen.
“Ah, sir, you’re a gentleman, and know life as well as I do. Depend upon
it, sir, coach-travelling is the best after all--no danger of being
smashed to pieces or of breaking your limbs. Not the slightest accident
ever can happen. Hallo!” said he, stopping the horses short, “what the
deuce is the matter with that horse? Look out, Bob!”
“Yes, sir; the old trace is broke again.”
“The deuce it is! Well, we must mend it.”
“You can’t--it’s broke in a fresh place, and we have no rope here.” The
coachman getting down, unceremoniously threw the reins to me. “Hold them
fast, sir.”
“Well, well, my lad, you must run back and fetch another.” The snow was
then falling heavily, and we had not got more than a mile on the road.
In about forty minutes the boy returned, perspiring terribly, though
covered with snow.
“I’ve not been long, coachman, have I?”
“Not been long, my lad--why, my cargo is nearly frozen to death!”
“You’re right, coachman,” said an old gentleman. “And I promise you I
will never travel by your coach again. This is the second time this
month.”
“Well, sir, we are not travelling now--we are at a stand-still, and no
mistake.”
“You may joke, but I don’t like it.”
“No more do I,” said coachman; “so we are of the same opinion.” At this
we all laughed, except the old gentleman.
In a short time all was right again. The coachman had resumed his
important position as well as the reins, which I abdicated to my great
satisfaction, and we were on the move. “Very slippery, governor; my
horses can scarcely keep their feet. Thank God, we are not in a hurry;
we can do the journey much more comfortably.”
“Excuse me,” said I, “if I do not hold exactly the same opinion as I did
just now about the railway.”
“My dear sir, are you in a hurry?” he asked.
“Yes, I am, and very cold besides.”
“What a pity you did not say so before! I should have made my stud fly,
and beat to atoms that fussy stuff they call steam.”
“That’s a good man; show off a bit.”
“Pst! pst! pst! Look out for a full charge, Cossack; fly away,
Cannon-ball. Pst! pst! that’s it, lads.” We were now nearly at a gallop.
“Coachman,” said I, “I see that your horses have martial names, if they
have not a very martial appearance. Pray, who gave them such warlike
titles?”
“The boys in the stable, sir. Everybody dreams of war now, sir; the very
air we breathe smells of powder. Don’t you think so, sir?”
“No, I think it smells of cheese.”
“By-the-bye, there’s a basket of cheese for that foreign gentleman who
lives at Virginia Water. Jump up, boy, and move that basket of cheese
from here.”
We arrived at Wimbledon Common, and stopped to take up parcels and
boxes, during which time the coachman pointed out to the old country
gentleman with whom he had the argument, the window of the room where
Cournet, the French officer of Marines, and the opponent of Barthélemy,
who had just been hanged, died after the Windsor duel. He was saying
that since Barthélemy had been hanged the house was no longer haunted,
and that the pool of blood, which never could be washed out, had
suddenly disappeared.
“Marvellous!” exclaimed the old gentleman; “I never heard anything like
that in my life.”
“No more did I,” said our witty coachman, winking at me. The boy now
called over the various parcels, and Cossack went off as fast as a
cannon-ball. We made a few more stoppages at Englefield Green, to
deliver several scolding letters and parcels from mistresses to their
servants having charge of the summer abodes of wealthy merchants who
reside in London during the winter. At one house, during the unloading
of two or three boxes and a child’s cradle, a tidy-looking girl, who was
waiting till they were taken in, had opened her letter, over which she
appeared very sulky. The coachman, perceiving this, said, smiling--“Any
answer, Sally?”
“No!” said Sally. “Oh, yes; tell the old lady that I will not live with
her any longer;” and the girl cried.
“What’s the matter?” said the coachman.
“She’s an old plague! there’s my Harry of the 46th has not been here
these four months, and she writes to say she hears that he comes every
day.”
“Of course not--how could he? he’s been gone to the war with his
regiment ever since last September.”
Sally, crying still louder, and wiping her eyes with her apron,
exclaimed, “Perhaps the poor fellow is killed by this time, and don’t
care a fig about me.”
“Well, well, lass, never mind that; soldiers are used to it.”
“Do you think I shall ever see him again, Mr. Coachman?”
“No doubt, my lass, but you must wait a little longer; and when he does
come back, if he has distinguished, instead of extinguished, himself, he
will have the Crimean medal, and perhaps be made a
colonel--captain--general--marshal--or even a corporal; who knows? in
these war times, every brave man has a chance.”
“Thank you, Mr. Coachman, you make me very happy--I shan’t cry any
more.”
“But, Sally, am I to tell your mistress what you said?”
“Oh, dear, no! because I should lose my place; they are not such bad
people after all, and master is so very kind to me.”
“I shall say nothing about it.”
“Pray, say nothing.”
“Pst, pst! now, my true blues, full speed for Virginia Water.” In twenty
minutes we were before the very picturesque inn called the “Wheatsheaf;”
every living soul came out to welcome us, thinking some accident had
happened. There was the landlord, landlady, thin and bulky barmaids,
house and kitchen maid, cook, pot and post boy, and a number of
customers.
“What has happened that you are so late to-day?” said the landlord to
the coachman.
“Nothing particular, governor; only a trace broke, and we had to fetch
another: besides, the roads are very slippery.” To the barmaid--“Give us
a light, girl, and a go of keep-me-warm.”
“Don’t believe him, sir,” exclaimed an old lady, who, upon the sudden
stoppage when the trace broke, had a quarrel with the coachman. In
opening the window violently, she broke it in twenty pieces; popping her
head, half of which was covered with snow, out of the window--“He is a
perfect brute,” said she; “he tried to upset us, and then would not move
for above an hour at least--see the state I am in; is it not a great
shame, a woman like me?”
“Well, madam,” said the landlord, “why don’t you shut the window?”
“What’s the use of pulling it up?--it’s broken in a thousand pieces, all
through that nasty fellow!”
“I can assure you, madam, he bears a very good character with the gentry
about here.”
The coachman, lighting his short pipe, and coming near them, said,
“Don’t take notice of the old lady, she means no harm.”
“Don’t I, though! I say again, before everybody, you are a brute and a
villain!”
“Go it, marm, go it,” said he, getting up. “It’s nothing new to me--my
wife tells me that every day, which is partly the cause we have no
family.” The favourite horse language of the coachman was again,
heard--“Fly away to the assault like a set of Zouaves!” and in a few
minutes nothing but a small black spot, resembling a fly crossing a
sheet of paper, was seen running up the snow-covered hill which leads to
the small village of Virginia Water.
I speedily joined the worthy and well-known landlord of the
“Wheatsheaf”--Mr. Jennings, and his cheerful wife and barmaid; all of
whom gave me a hearty country welcome, shaking my hands and arms in
every direction _ad libitum_, in anticipation, no doubt, of my
remembering them for a few days at all events. At the close of this
gymnastic exercise, I requested them to give me some breakfast, in the
small pavilion near the garden; also some pens, ink, and paper. My
request was at once attended to.
“Do you intend to stay with us a few days, Mr. Soyer?” asked the
landlord.
“No; I shall try and get back this evening, if possible--but to-morrow
morning, at the latest. I only came to close a few pending accounts of
my last summer’s stay at your lovely Virginia Water, and am going to
Paris for the Exhibition, having been offered the superintendence of a
large establishment.”
“But I hear that the Exhibition is postponed till next year.”
“So it is; but this is to be quite a new building, and erected close to
the Exhibition, if we can get permission granted.”
“Good morning, sir; I shall see you before you leave. I am only going to
the farm.”
“Yes, you will.”
I was sitting down to my breakfast, when, to my annoyance, as I had much
business to transact, some one knocked at the door, and, without waiting
for the reply, came in. It was the landlord, with a face full of anxiety
and astonishment, his glasses raised to his forehead, a newspaper in his
hand, and looking as serious as if he had just been married, or had lost
one of his favourite pups. “I say, master,” said he, “do you mean it?”
“Mean what, man?”
“But now, really! do you mean it?”
“I’m puzzled to know to what you allude. Is it about my trip to Paris?”
“Paris! no, that has nothing to do with the letter of yours I have just
read in the _Times_ of this day.”
“Oh! now I understand you, and can easily account for your long face and
evident astonishment.”
“Now you understand me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, allow me to tell you frankly that you are very foolish; you are
not a military man, and have made the offer, it is true, very likely in
a moment of enthusiasm; but plead any excuse you can to get out of it if
you are sent for; remain where you are--‘Good folks are scarce,’ says
the proverb.”
“Thanks to the proverb first, and you afterwards,” said I.
“And if you do go, it is a hundred to one against your returning.”
“Many thanks for your frank advice; but I am determined to go, and if
Government send for me, I wish to be ready at a day’s notice; so sure I
am that I can render some services to my fellow-creatures by so doing.”
“I have no doubt you can--but you may catch the fever, or God knows what
besides! Why, they are dying by fifties and sixties a-day in the
hospital at Scutari; look, here is the latest account, the names of the
poor fellows defunct, and number of their regiments. There is no mistake
in that.”
“I am aware of all that; but mind you, my firm belief is, that no fruit
falls from the tree to the ground till it is perfectly ripe; and I also
believe that we are never gathered from this frivolous world till we are
really wanted in the other.”
“Such being your determination, it is no use talking any more about it;
I only hope your health will not fail you, and that you will return and
keep us alive as you did last year. I can assure you, your joyful dinner
party, or ‘feet shampeter,’ as Mary the barmaid called it, and you used
to say in French, was the talk of the country round. It is only three
days ago that Colonel Cholmondeley was inquiring after you, and asking
whether you had left the neighbourhood.”
“Ah, really! how is the Colonel?”
“He looks remarkably well, I assure you, and will be very glad to see
you.”
“When you see the Colonel, pray present my most sincere compliments.”
“So I will.”
“I’m off, but hope to see you this evening; good-bye, in case I do not.”
The days being short, and my business more complicated than I had
anticipated, prevented my visiting my favourite summer spot, the
_Paradis Champêtre_ of England.[3]
I slept that evening at the “Wheatsheaf;” I had given orders to be
called the next morning at daybreak, and was crossing the avenue of
lime-trees leading to the lake, in anticipation of witnessing, as I was
wont of a summer’s morning, its interminable sheet of silvery waters and
green moss velvet banks, sprinkled with myriads of daisies--or stars of
the fields--intermixed with golden cups, covered with pearly dew,
bordered also by mountainous trees forming a formidable forest; the
glittering Chinese fishing temple, Corinthian ruin, the flag floating on
the castle tower, “Royal George” frigate and barks, the swans, and the
music of thousands of birds with their notes of freedom so wild and full
of nature. Alas! all my illusions were dispelled, as I could scarcely
see a yard before me; a thick veil, caused by a severe white frost,
seemed to monopolise and wrap in its virgin folds the beauty of this
lovely spot. Though greatly disappointed, I was returning to the humble
country inn with my soul filled by sublime reminiscences of that
charming spot, worthy of the enchanted gardens of Armida, when a
deformed and awkward-looking lout of a stableman, peeping from a clump
of evergreens, thus accosted me:--“Will you take a red herring for
breakfast, sir?”
I leave my readers to imagine the effect produced upon my then exalted
imagination. Pushing him violently from me, “Away with you! unsociable
and ill-timed Quasimodo!” I said. Having thus unceremoniously repulsed
my evil genius, and being by that electric shock entirely deprived of
my appetite, I ordered a post-chaise in lieu of breakfast, and in a
short time was at the turnpike-gate adjoining the inn, waiting for
change to pay the toll. It was then about ten minutes to eight o’clock.
In three-quarters of an hour the post-chaise took me to the railway
station, and an hour after I was ascending my homely staircase, when the
servant apprised me that many persons had called; some had left their
cards, and a mounted groom had brought a letter, saying he would call at
noon for an answer. Amongst the various letters I found upon my desk, I
recognised one in the hand-writing of the Duchess of Sutherland. It was
as follows:--
The Duchess of Sutherland will be much pleased to see Monsieur
Soyer at Stafford House at two o’clock this day; or ten to-morrow
morning, if more convenient to Monsieur Soyer.
7th February, 1856.
I had scarcely read this letter, when a double knock was heard at the
street door. It was the footman from Stafford House, sent for an answer.
I at once informed him I was going to wait upon her Grace; but as he was
there, he might say that, at two o’clock precisely, I would do myself
the honour of attending at Stafford House. Concluding, naturally enough,
that the summons had reference to my letter, I immediately began to
reflect how I should explain the plan I intended to adopt, in case my
services were required. In the first place, I had decided that the most
important question of all would be the entire freedom of my actions when
I arrived at Scutari. This, of course, could not be granted, unless the
Government, impressed with the importance of the subject, thought proper
to do so. The active part would easily develop itself to my free and
experienced mind.
CHAPTER II.
A SUMMONS TO STAFFORD HOUSE.
Stafford House--A distinguished circle--The plan detailed--Its
practicability admitted--Home again--Another summons--The War
Office--An appointment made--Second interview with the Duchess of
Sutherland--Samples of hospital diets--Question of seasoning--New
system.
At ten minutes to two I entered the superb portico of Stafford House,
and was shown to the ground-floor library by the Duke’s piper, young
Mackenzie. “Her Grace will be with you presently,” said he. “Walk in,
sir, and I will apprise the Duchess of your arrival; who, I am aware, is
anxious to see you.”
I thanked him for his politeness, and he left me alone. I had scarcely
time to cast a glance of admiration upon one of the _chefs-d’œuvre_
of Landseer, representing the juvenile Stafford family, when her Grace
entered, followed by the Duke and Duchess of Argyle, the Marquis and
Marchioness of Stafford, the Marquis of Kildare, Lord and Lady Blantyre,
her brother, and the children--about eighteen in number--Lady Grosvenor,
and others. The Duchess of Sutherland introduced me to the noble circle,
and requested all to be seated, which request was at once complied with;
and her Grace addressed me in these terms:--“Monsieur Soyer, we have
read with deep interest your letter which has appeared in the _Times_,
and I cannot but express my admiration of your noble devotion when any
good can be effected, or the position of the suffering be relieved or
ameliorated by your assistance. The results of your interference would
be very important--and especially at the present time--in our hospitals
at Scutari, and in the Crimea, where, in consequence of such unexpected
calamities, all is in the greatest confusion. I shall also observe to
you, that I am well aware this offer is not your _premier coup d’essai_,
or first trial. But I should advise you to consider the matter well, in
case the Government accept your services. Judging from the tenor of the
letters I receive daily from various departments at Scutari, I can
perceive great difficulties, of which you are perhaps not aware.”
“Your Grace,” I replied, “is extremely kind to initiate me into the true
position of the case; and first of all, I beg to observe that, were
there no great difficulties to surmount, I should not have offered my
services. But will you permit me to set forth, in a few words, the plan
I propose adopting if Government should honour me with their
confidence?”
“Pray do,” exclaimed several of the circle, especially the Duke of
Argyle, close to whom I was seated. Looking at his watch, and addressing
me, the Duke continued, “Pray, Mr. Soyer, give me a slight conception of
your project, as I have only a few minutes to stay. The Council of the
Ministry, of which I am a member, meet in about an hour, and I must be
there. I should be very glad to submit your plans to them; it might
greatly tend to their adoption.”
“Very true; your Grace shall judge if they are practicable or not. First
of all, I should beg the entire confidence of the Government relative to
my actions concerning the culinary department of the hospitals--that is,
that they should grant me the power of obtaining the necessary articles
of food already in the hospitals, and other things which might require
to be purchased by either the commissariat or purveyor’s department,
without the slightest delay, as the want of such power would tend to
certain failure--which I wish to avoid; while the possession of their
confidence will ensure success. I will then pledge my word to do
everything in my power, and with the greatest economy, and, if possible,
with the same quantity of provisions as at present allowed by
Government, or even less, which would be a source of high gratification
to me; and I sincerely hope to be able to do so after the inquiries I
made this morning, previous to attending your Grace’s appointment; for I
perceive, in many instances, that too much is given of one thing, and
not enough of another. Having, therefore, the power to vary the
ingredients and quantity, as well as to change inferior provisions for
better, when possible, will greatly assist me in my undertaking.”
“I have no doubt,” said her Grace, “that what you request will be
granted without the least hesitation.”
“My plan would also be, never to act without the sanction of the
doctor-in-chief respecting the diets I mean to introduce; and I would
not interfere in the slightest degree with any former department, or
displace a man from his duty except for incapacity, insubordination, or
bad conduct; for believe me, if I am sent to Scutari, I go with the
intention of doing all the good I can, and simplifying my difficult
undertaking in such a manner as to ensure success. I should also claim
the power of being able to condemn inferior provisions, and to
substitute better, always without deviating from any army contract which
has been, or may be, made by the Government, as I do not mean to hold
myself responsible for the purchase of any provisions or stores, but
merely to give my approval or disapproval of them. Upon my arrival at
Scutari, I propose at once to take two hundred patients, and diet them
for a week or more, according to the doctor’s approbation, and then
gradually increase the number, till I have the whole under my direction,
if approved of by the chief medical officer. Such is the plan I propose
adopting, and I shall beg your Grace to give me your opinion upon it.”
“The way you intend carrying out your plan seems very practicable.”
“Well,” said the Duke, addressing the Duchess of Sutherland, “you must
excuse me leaving now, as I have but a short time to get to
Downing-street. Mr. Soyer, I shall have much pleasure in submitting your
plan to the Ministerial Council, and will report progress.”
After the Duke’s departure, a general conversation was opened upon the
subject, and having exchanged a few words with Lord and Lady Blantyre
and the Duchess of Sutherland, who kindly promised to acquaint me with
the result, I withdrew, and left Stafford House. No sooner home, having
obtained the correct ration-scale of provisions from Dr. Andrews’s
office, than I formed a very fair idea of what I could do for the best.
The next morning, February 11th, about ten o’clock, I received the
following communication from her Grace:
The Duchess of Sutherland has just seen his Grace the Duke of
Argyle, who has spoken to Lord Panmure upon the subject of Mr.
Soyer’s offer. I think Lord Panmure is willing to forward the
humane and practical views of Mr. Soyer, and will see Mr. Soyer at
the War Office to-morrow.
The Duchess wishes to have the pleasure of seeing Monsieur Soyer
after his visit to Lord Panmure.
Upon receipt of this letter I immediately went, as desired, to the War
Department to see Lord Panmure’s private secretary, Mr. Ramsay, and
inquire when and where I could see his lordship. The hearty reception I
met with from that gentleman was a most favourable augur, and encouraged
me to persist in the very precarious undertaking in which I was about to
engage, although many friends and near relations strongly tried to
prevent me from pursuing it, placing constantly before my eyes the most
sinister pictures, which, I am proud to say, never for a moment altered
my mind. Having but one object in view, I was determined to see only the
best side of the medal, and chance the rest.
Mr. Ramsay having arranged my interview with Lord Panmure for the next
morning, I then retired, thanking him much for his very kind and
courteous reception. I went home to test a few samples of diets and
aliments I had prepared from the soldiers’ rations; placing the whole of
them in small vases, well packed, I sent them to Stafford House, there
to remain till my arrival. In about an hour I had a second interview
with the Duchess of Sutherland and a number of her noble family. After
speaking of my visit to the War Office, and my appointment with his
lordship for the morning,
“Lord Blantyre,” the Duchess said, “has some business at the War
Department to-day, and I shall trouble his lordship to remit another
letter from me on the subject to Lord Panmure, who has, at the present
time, so much to do that it is likely your interview might be postponed
for another day.”
“I can assure your Grace that the extreme interest you take in my behalf
appears to me a good omen, assuring me of success, in case I should be
sent to the seat of war. I would also observe that, being well aware of
the value of Lord Panmure’s time, in a few minutes I shall be able to
unfold my plan, and he will no doubt at once perceive whether it is
practicable or not, and will give me a decided answer; therefore, to
lose time, on either side, would be impolitic. But, before I leave, will
your Grace honour me by inspecting a few samples of hospital diets which
I have prepared as a test, from the rations as at present given to the
soldiers? They will form part of my new system, if approved by the
medical officers.”
“Have you some here, Mr. Soyer?”
“Yes, your Grace, I have; one of the footmen has taken charge of them
till required.”
The order having been given, a footman entered with the samples on a
plateau, with spoons, &c., which were tasted by the select and noble
party, who at once pronounced them very palatable, and to which I
remarked, that through the nature of the ingredients they could not fail
to be nutritious and light.
“It is to be regretted,” I said, “that the cooks in many hospitals are
not allowed to put the seasoning in the savoury diets, which restriction
will invariably produce very unsatisfactory results. I will here repeat
the saying of Hippocrates:--‘What pleases the palate nourishes.’ If this
great man has said so, it is a pity that some of his modern disciples
have altered or deviated from such an ancient and just maxim, for I will
vouch that a diet properly seasoned is far more generous and
invigorating to the patient than the unpalatable food prepared without
anything of the sort; at the same time many maladies will require
various degrees of seasoning, as too much in some cases would prove
equally if not more injurious than the want of it in others. This point
must be left to the doctor’s discretion. I am also aware that in some
hospitals salt and pepper are allowed, and, I may say, too abundantly;
and each patient is permitted to season his food, not according to his
taste, but his judgment: this is another evil, as he is or may be at the
time entirely deprived of either taste or judgment. These remarks will
be the first I shall submit to the notice of the principal doctor, and I
am morally certain he will agree with me as soon as they are properly
explained.”
“A most important observation,” said the Duchess; “for, even when in the
enjoyment of good health, what is more disagreeable than an insipid
dish?”
“I have always, madame, maintained that the cook must season for guests
or patients, and not these for the cook.”
“In fact,” said I to the Marquis of Stafford, who had tasted several of
the samples, “does not your lordship opine that salt and pepper should
be almost excluded from the ward, and that the cook should be as
responsible for seasoning the food as the apothecary is for making up
the doctor’s prescription correctly?”
“Certainly; but can you persuade them to do so?”
“Very easily; by my system of diet, every recipe will be printed,
framed, and hung up in the kitchen, so that any person, even a soldier
(provided he can read), will be capable of executing them well, as each
receipt will be comprised in a few lines.”
“Ah! that will, indeed, be most valuable, and readily applied in every
hospital.”
During this conversation, the Duchess of Sutherland and the Marquis of
Stafford had tasted another kind of food which I had made for the camp.
It was prepared from peas-meal, in which I had introduced a due
proportion of salt and pepper,--called “Symon’s ground baked
peas-meal,”--and by pouring a pint of boiling water upon a good
table-spoonful of it, made a most excellent and thick purée of peas
quite hot. I one day, as a trial, ate nothing but that and a biscuit,
and did not feel the least inclined for anything else. I do not mean to
imply that such fare would do for a continuance, but when nothing else
could be obtained, it certainly would be a great comfort for the troops
to get a hot meal, made in a few minutes, and without trouble. All
present tasted this, and expressed themselves very favourably about it.
Having also left some samples of coffee, I was retiring, when the
Duchess of Sutherland kindly reminded me that she should be happy to see
me the morning after my interview with the Minister-at-War. Of course I
should not have failed in presenting myself, even without this kind
invitation.
CHAPTER III.
OFF TO THE WAR.
Reception at the War Office--Full powers granted--The Duke of
Cambridge--His _chef de cuisine_, Comte--Model of a portable camp
or field stove--Visit to Lord Shaftesbury--Dr. Andrews--An
encouraging porter--Phonetic experiments--Mr. Stafford’s kind
reception--Model of the stove inspected by the Duke of Cambridge
and by Lord Panmure--Interview with Mr. Brunel--Dr. Mayne--Question
of patent--Sir Benjamin Hawes’ office--Stafford House
again--Letters of introduction--Honourable Mrs. Herbert--A recreant
secretary--Quite at a non-plus--A friend in need--Farewell at
London Bridge--Pavilion Hotel, Folkestone.
At nine o’clock next morning I was at the War Office by appointment.
Lord Panmure arrived at half-past, and by the kindness of Mr. Ramsay,
who had mentioned my arrival, I was immediately introduced and most
cordially received. After a few words on my part, as I had not had the
pleasure of seeing Lord Panmure since I left the Reform Club, he
inquired what I proposed doing in respect to the cooking department of
Scutari Hospital. Stating briefly that which I had previously explained
in detail to the Duke of Argyle when at Stafford House, and with which
Lord Panmure seemed to be perfectly acquainted, he said to me,--
“You must, after you have done there, go to the Crimea, and cheer up
those brave fellows in the camp;--see what you can do! Your joyful
countenance will do them good, Soyer; try to teach them to make the best
of their rations!”
I then observed that, first of all, I must try and succeed in the
hospitals; secondly, that, if the troops in the Crimea had the same
small tin camp-kettle I had seen in the camp at Chobham, it would be
impossible for me to improve the style of cooking, as they were much
too small, and burnt too much fuel, more especially in the open air.
“Well,” said Lord Panmure, “can you substitute anything more applicable
for the camp, and which can be easily carried with the regiments while
on march?”
“I will set my head to work and try, and if any plan which I consider
practicable strikes me, I will have a model of it made, and submit the
same for your lordship’s approval.”
“Well, do.”
“With reference to the hospital at Scutari, I believe that is a
permanent building, situated near a large metropolis, full of resources,
and I have nothing to risk going there and setting to work immediately.
I shall start in the full conviction of being able to do some good, if
your lordship honours me with your full confidence and grants me the
power of acting according to my own judgment in a profession which I
have successfully practised for upwards of twenty years.”
“Very good, Soyer! I shall give orders to that effect, and furnish you
with letters of introduction to every department.”
“Now, I hope you will do me the honour of accepting my services as I
offered them, through the medium of the public press; such acceptance on
the part of your lordship will, I can assure you, much facilitate the
progress of my undertaking.”
“I understand your meaning, Mr. Soyer; but I must make some arrangement
for your expenses.”
“Those, of course, I shall accept, or I should be giving offence to your
lordship as well as the Government; more especially as I am, after
visiting Scutari, to proceed to the Crimea.”
“Well, tell me when you can start,--the mail leaves at noon to-morrow.”
“I should be most happy to leave to-morrow, but previous to my departure
for so long and unexpected a journey, I have some important private
affairs to settle; it will therefore be impossible.”
“Ah, truly! then I leave it to you, Soyer; but the sooner you go the
better.”
“Your lordship may depend upon my anxiety and promptitude; not a day, or
even a minute shall be lost.”
“Fare you well, Soyer; come and see me before your departure.”
“Of course I will; but, begging your pardon, to whom shall I address
myself for any further information I may require?”
“To myself, and no one else,” was Lord Panmure’s reply.
“I should be sorry to interrupt you in the incessant business you have
from morning till night.”
“My secretary, Mr. Ramsay, will always be here; but do not hesitate, if
you require it, to see me.”
“I certainly will not.”
After a few words with Mr. Ramsay upon the subject of my interview, and
what was decided upon, I immediately went to inform the Duchess of
Sutherland of the result of my visit, at which her Grace expressed her
gratification, and requested me to call again prior to my departure for
the East, stating that she would give me some important letters of
introduction to persons at Scutari, which would be most useful to me.
After promising to do this, I retired. My intention was then to pay a
visit to the Duke of Cambridge, who at that time took great interest in
the subject, he having lately visited the hospital at Scutari; and made
important observations upon the system of cooking carried on there.
As I was on my way to St. James’s Palace, I met his Highness,
accompanied by the Honourable James Macdonald, leaving the house; and
having paid my respects, he inquired if I was going to Scutari, to which
I replied in the affirmative. In a few words I gave him the result of my
interview with Lord Panmure, and also spoke of the warm interest the
Duchess of Sutherland took in the subject.
“Yes, I am aware of it,” said he. “I had the pleasure of seeing her
Grace yesterday.” I then made a few inquiries respecting the state of
the hospitals there, which his highness very kindly described to me.
The Duke remarked--“Your friend Comte will be able to give you all the
information you may require, as he was with me at Scutari, and saw all
the kitchen department in detail.”
“Many thanks, your highness; I shall do myself the pleasure of paying
him an early visit.”
Five minutes after I was with my friend Comte, the Duke of Cambridge’s
_chef de cuisine_, who kindly initiated me into all the doings, both in
the camp and in the hospitals on the Bosphorus. This information was of
great service to me.[4]
Upon leaving my friend I hastily returned home, intending to draw out
the plan of a model for a portable camp or field stove, which could also
be applied to the use of the hospitals. Having heard that no regular
kitchens had been established there, I was anxious to have a simple
apparatus to take out with me of which I understood the working, and
which might be put in action immediately on my arrival. In a very short
time I hit upon an idea which I thought could be easily carried out, and
would answer perfectly. Losing no time, I jumped into a cab and
immediately drove to the eminent gas engineers and stove makers, Messrs.
Smith and Phillips, of Snow-hill. On submitting my plan to those
scientific gentlemen, they pronounced it practicable, and promised me a
model, one inch to the foot, to be ready in a day or two.
Although the snow was falling heavily, I paid an early visit to Lord
Shaftesbury, to whom I had the honour of being permitted to dedicate my
last work--the “Cookery for the People.”
His lordship gave me a most cordial reception, and was much, pleased to
hear of my intention of going to the East. Lord Shaftesbury made several
useful observations respecting the importance of my mission. I bade him
adieu. His lordship kindly wished me all the success I could desire, and
said that he should be happy to hear of my proceedings, of which I
promised to inform him a short time after my arrival.
As I had a letter of introduction from Mr. Ramsay to Dr. Andrews, I
proceeded to that gentleman’s office, where I found several medical
gentlemen waiting, with some of whom I had the pleasure of being
acquainted. Others were engaged testing samples of preserved milk in
glasses; and having asked me to test some, I selected one which they all
agreed was the best: I believe it turned out to be Gamble’s preserved
milk, in tins. My letter of introduction having been given to the
doctor, I had an immediate interview.
After listening to my few inquiries, he kindly wrote me a letter of
introduction to Dr. Cumming, the superintendent at Scutari, and all the
hospitals on the Bosphorus, promising me his support, and requesting
that I might have all I required in my department upon application to
the purveyor. He then put me in communication with a gentleman in charge
of the stores, who would give me all the information respecting the
kitchen utensils then in use in the hospitals. Having taken notes of
everything, I retired perfectly satisfied with the important information
I had gathered in so short a time.
I was well aware of the multiplicity of business daily transacted by the
doctor, and the difficulty of obtaining a private interview with him,
even on business, as one of the assistant porters told me when I called
early one morning, that I might call till doomsday, and not be able to
see him. This, of course, I took for granted, as no doubt the doctor
would upon this solemn occasion be more engaged than ever. I must,
however, observe that he at first took me for a merchant who had been
for several years trying to persuade the English faculty to sanction or
adopt the use of leeches to the same extent as is done in France. Not
much flattered by the comparison, I wished him better manners for the
future.
“I beg your pardon, sir; but not being on the military list, I did not
know you. Why didn’t you tell me you was Monseer Soyewere, then I should
have knowed you? Of course, everybody knows you in England, Ireland,
Wales, and Scotland.”
“Well, never mind; but did I not give you my card?”
“Of course you did; but I could not make out the name of So-ye-were from
five such letters as that,” said he, showing my card to some one
present. “Soyer! surely that never can be So-ye-were!”
“You spell and write admirably. Thank you for the wrinkle. I shall have
my card altered.”
I told the cabman to drive me to the residence of Mr. Stafford, M.P., at
whose chambers I had the day before left a letter of introduction from
the Duchess of Sutherland. I had the pleasure of a very interesting
interview with that gentleman, who had then just returned from Scutari.
Having given me the necessary details of what was most required, and
about the number of assistants I should take with me to insure immediate
success, he promised to furnish me with several letters of introduction,
if I would send or call for them before my departure.
“I shall, certainly,” said I, “much prefer calling, were it only to have
the advantage of a little more of your valuable information upon any
subject which may strike you after my departure; and I thank you for
your kind and valuable suggestions.”
“When do you think of starting?”
“In a couple of days at the latest.”
“Very well; the letters shall be ready without fail, and two or three
small parcels, which you will be kind enough to deliver for me--one
especially for Miss Nightingale, rather fragile, and which I cannot send
by post.”
“I shall be most happy; jusqu’au plaisir de vous revoir.”
I devoted the rest of that day to my private affairs, packing, and
paying farewell visits. The next morning, at half-past nine, Messrs.
Smith and Phillips, according to promise, brought me a most beautiful
small model of the field-stove, which they warranted first-rate, and to
be capable of working in or out of doors, and in all weathers. I
immediately proceeded to the War-Office, to show the model, and explain
the principle to Lord Panmure. In the waiting-room I had the honour of
meeting the Duke of Cambridge, which gave me an excellent opportunity of
explaining its merits. The Duke appeared to approve of it, and
particularly noticed the great economy of fuel consequent upon the
construction and smallness of the furnace. The Duke made some important
remarks, and gave me a few hints upon the cooking regulations both in
the hospitals and in the camps. These I took note of, and after
explaining my plan of transport, I was quite delighted at having had
such an opportunity of conversing with the Duke on a subject in which I
was aware he felt particular interest. Mr. Ramsay, the secretary, having
sent for me, I quitted the Duke; and, before leaving, I informed him
that I had seen my friend Comte, and that he had given me all the
assistance in his power, and had also told me that his highness had
presented the hospital with a very nice _petite batterie de cuisine_,
which, no doubt, I should find very useful upon my arrival.
“Adieu, Monsieur Soyer, I wish you well, and hope you will succeed.”
On reaching Mr. Ramsay’s office, that gentleman kindly informed me that
if I wished to see Lord Panmure I had better wait till he went to take
his luncheon. I then stated that my object was to show his lordship the
model of a stove I had invented for the use both of the hospitals and
the army.
“Walk into the next room; Lord Panmure will be there in a few minutes,
and you will have plenty of time to show it without interfering with his
business.”
I had not waited ten minutes before Lord Panmure came in alone.
“Ah, Mr. Soyer, what have you there?”
“The model of a stove I wish to submit to your lordship. It is one which
will, I believe, suit admirably for cooking both in and out of doors.”
After closely examining it, and listening to the details I had
previously given to the Duke of Cambridge, Lord Panmure approved of it,
and requested me to have another made, which he might keep by him for
inspection.
He then inquired how many cooks I should take with me.
“Only a few from Paris,” I replied, “as I wish to make a trial before
engaging many people; besides, I hope to be able, in a very short time,
to instruct the soldiers, who, being under discipline, might prove as
useful as any cooks.”
Lord Panmure seemed pleased at my anxiety to instruct the soldiers; and,
as he very justly remarked--“We want them to learn how to cook their
rations to the best advantage, and that your instructions should remain
for ever among them. Well, I have settled all you wished me to do; and
my secretary, Mr. Ramsay, will remit you all the letters you require.
When do you think of starting?”
“By the next mail.”
“Well!” said his lordship, shaking me heartily by the hand, “Good-bye,
if I do not see you again before your departure.”
“It would only be troubling you; I therefore beg to take this
opportunity of thanking your lordship for the kind reception and
encouragement I have received, and, still more, for the confidence with
which you have honoured me. I assure you that it will cause me to be
most careful and economical, and it will be my pride to improve the diet
without increasing the expense to Government. This may not be effected
at first; but when the system is once introduced, and fairly
established, I will answer for both a great amelioration as well as a
saving.”
“I am confident, Soyer, that you will do your best.”
“Your lordship may depend upon me for that, were it only for my own
sake.”
“Well, write as soon as you arrive, and let us know how you get on.”
Upon leaving, I met Mr. Ramsay, and related to him _verbatim_ what had
passed between Lord Panmure and myself. I then showed him the model,
which he understood perfectly well, and gave me the engineer, Mr.
Brunel’s, address. I called upon that gentleman, and had the pleasure of
an interview. He at once gave his full and entire approval of the
principle, saying, “You really come at a most propitious time; Dr. Mayne
and myself are actually busily engaged discussing a plan for
establishing kitchens in the Smyrna hospital. Yours will answer very
well, and assist us materially, as it is always a tedious department to
construct in order to be effective, and work properly. No doubt they
will be applicable to every public institution; besides, what a small
quantity of fuel they must consume.”
“Very little, indeed; and with this simple regulator you may manage the
ebullition to a nicety, even in the open air. I shall also beg to
remark, that they will be made of a beautiful metal, that will never
require tinning; and the whole, though light in weight, will be
extremely strong, and will last several years without needing repairs,
or, at least, very trifling ones, that will not interfere with their use
for a single day. They will take up but little room, and may be easily
kept clean. No bricks are required, no chimney to be swept, and they can
be as easily removed as any piece of furniture in your room.”
“You are perfectly right; and I give you my candid opinion, they are the
very stoves required for the purpose. I should like Dr. Mayne to see it;
if you can, call as you go to the War Office, and show him the model. I
can then speak with him upon the subject.”
“With the greatest of pleasure.”
As Dr. Mayne had not arrived when I called, I went and fetched a
passport for myself, and one for my secretary. Upon my return, the
doctor had examined the model, and seemed much pleased, saying--“It
will answer very well.” I left the address of the manufacturers with
him, and then retired. They were immediately adopted both at Smyrna, and
later at Rankioi.
A gentleman present, who seemed to have taken a great deal of interest
in our descriptive conversation, followed me to the door, and, in a low
voice, asked if I had taken out a patent.
“No, I have not; but I shall put my name and label upon them.”
“Well, if you were to take out a patent, you would make a fortune.”
“You may be right; but upon such an occasion I should fancy myself
wrong. I will therefore give it, _pro bono publico_. I am well aware
that by making it more complete I could take out either registration or
patent, but I would not do that for the world; as it would be
immediately reported that I expected to be repaid for my services by the
profits of the patent of the stove, and upon these grounds I decline any
such proceeding.”
As it was then about three o’clock, I went, by appointment, to Sir
Benjamin Hawes’ office to bid that gentleman adieu, and to receive his
final orders, showing him at the same time the model, which he seemed to
appreciate thoroughly. He gave me the best advice, and promised me his
powerful support throughout my culinary campaign. In return, I engaged
to communicate all my movements, and retired.
At noon, next day, I again called at Stafford House, “not by
appointment.” On being informed of my visit, the Duchess at once
favoured me with an audience. “I am come,” said I, “to announce my
departure. I wish, ere I leave to-morrow, to thank your Grace, and to
show you the model of my new stove which I mean to introduce into the
hospital kitchens.”
“Ah!” exclaimed her Grace, “I must go and fetch the Duke. He will be
highly pleased with it, and he wished very much to see you before your
departure.”
The Duke soon entered the great hall, with a large party, to whom I
explained the principle, as I had before done to the Duke of Cambridge.
I also stated that the day previous I had had the honour of showing it
to Lord Panmure, and Mr. Brunel, the celebrated engineer, all of whom
were much pleased with its efficacy, simplicity, and economy; more
especially Mr. Brunel, who so highly appreciated the principle of its
construction, that he at once adopted it, and applied it to the hospital
kitchens at Smyrna and Rankioi, which he was there about to fit up.
The Duke made many remarks respecting the simplicity of its construction
and the immense economy of fuel; “the transport of which,” I observed,
“was so extremely difficult and costly.” I also remarked that one stove
might be placed in a tent or hut containing fifty or sixty men; and they
could cook there without the smallest inconvenience or difficulty, while
it would throw out sufficient heat, “being in use nearly all day, viz.,
for breakfast, dinner, and tea,” to warm the hut in winter, while in
summer it might be turned out of doors.
Having been complimented by all present, I was about to retire, when the
Duchess observed that she had written several letters of introduction
for me. “Among the number,” said her Grace, “you will find one for Miss
Nightingale.”
I returned my sincere thanks to all present, and in particular to the
Duke and Duchess. I assured them that the kindness and great
encouragement I had received from them would be for ever engraved in my
memory. The Duke remarked that he was very glad to see me in such high
spirits. I acknowledged this with a bow.
“But, Mr. Soyer, suppose you should be taken ill?” said the Duchess.
“Well, your Grace--_cela est à la volonté de Dieu_--at present I am
happy to say I have not any fears on that head, and am quite resigned to
whatever Providence may dictate. Once more I beg to reiterate my
feelings of gratitude, and bid your Grace and your illustrious family
adieu.”
As it was nearly one o’clock, I called upon Mr. Ramsay, who had all my
letters ready. He did me the honour to introduce me to General Vivian,
of the Turkish Contingent, and his brother, Captain Ramsay, the
general’s aide-de-camp. Anticipating the pleasure of meeting those
gentlemen in the East, I departed with the best wishes of all.
Mr. Ramsay gave me a letter for the Honourable Mrs. Herbert, to whom I
was anxious to pay a visit, well aware of the important information I
could gather from that benevolent lady, who was in constant
communication with the hospitals in the East, and also with Miss
Nightingale. I was very kindly received; but, instead of giving me an
encouraging prospect of success, that lady very candidly informed me
that the number of letters she daily received were most unsatisfactory,
and that she did not think it possible for me to restore order in the
cooking department at the great barrack hospital. “The difficulties you
will encounter,” said she, “are incalculable.”
“So I anticipate,” was my reply; “but I must observe, that I love
difficulties, in order to surmount them. And with the power so
graciously conferred upon me by Lord Panmure, I cannot fail to do some
good, if my health does not fail me.”
“I hope,” said Mrs. Herbert, “you will succeed, and shall be happy to
hear of an amelioration. When do you think of going?”
“To-morrow.” Bidding her adieu, and thanking her for her kind reception,
I retired.
On reaching home, I found the promised letters from Mr. Stafford, all my
luggage packed, and was on the point of starting, when I learned that
the gentleman who was going with me as secretary, and had his passport
ready, declined to accompany me. His relations and friends had persuaded
him not to go, the fever being so bad there, and so many deaths
occurring daily. I was thus placed in an awkward position, and was,
moreover, pestered at home by intrusive visitors, and no end of
ridiculous letters. I thought of starting alone; but, upon reflection, I
decided upon passing the evening at the Adelaide Hotel, at London
Bridge, and in the morning looking out for another party; thus, to my
great annoyance, losing another day. To start alone without a
first-class companion for so long a journey was a sad affair. I must
observe that I had previously engaged two young men, at high wages, as
cooks, one of whom declined going to Scutari, but did not mind the
Crimea; the other fell ill. Thus, my prospects on the eve of my
departure were anything but favourable.
Next morning, while driving along Piccadilly, I met a friend, who, in
congratulating me upon my proposed journey, and wishing me success in my
undertaking, said, “So Mr. L---- is going with you as secretary, is he
not?”
“No, he is not! he has left me in the lurch at the last minute; and, my
dear fellow, I can tell you what, there is a chance for you--it is only
for two or three months--you will be well paid, and all expenses
defrayed.”
“It is very kind of you to make me the offer,” he replied; “but I cannot
leave my business at a minute’s notice. How long could you give me to
prepare?”
“Oh! I am off this evening by the mail.”
“I have no clothes ready for travelling.”
“Never mind that; you can get all you require in Paris, where I shall
remain two days upon business.”
“Indeed! then in two hours I will give you a decided answer.”
At the expiration of that time my friend made his appearance. We drew up
an agreement, got his passport, and started the same evening; but not on
the sly, as I had anticipated. Having forgotten to warn T. G. not to
mention the fact of our intended journey, he had called upon several of
his friends, with some of whom I was acquainted, and to my surprise,
when I reached the station, I found about twenty assembled to bid us
farewell. If I mention this circumstance, it is only to have an
opportunity of publicly thanking those gentlemen for their hearty
farewell, and three cheers--the echo of which still vibrates in my
heart, and was through the whole of my culinary campaign a high source
of gratification to my feelings. That night we slept at the Pavilion
Hotel, Folkestone.
CHAPTER IV.
DELIGHTS OF TRAVEL.
The lost pocket-book--Found at last--Scene at a station--Caught in
a fog--Arrival at Boulogne--The Emperor’s first
valet-de-chambre--An avalanche of earth--Table talk--Napoleon’s
projected trip to the Crimea--News of the death of the Czar--An
incredulous auditor--A bet quickly won--Paris--Lyons--Marseilles.
The Boulogne steamer was to start at half-past seven in the morning; the
weather was anything but favourable, as rain was falling in torrents,
and a thick fog coming on. T. G. and myself were ready to start, when a
sad adventure occurred--my pocket-book, containing the best part of my
cash and my official letters, was not to be found.[5] As I recollected
having put it safely in the side pocket of my great coat before leaving
the Adelaide Hotel, I feared that during the journey (owing to the
fatigues of the day I had slept some time in the train) it might have
been abstracted from my pocket.
After hunting in vain all about the room, I informed Mr. Giovanni and
Mr. Brydes, the landlord of the hotel, of my loss, and those gentlemen
immediately instituted inquiries. The news was soon known all through
the hotel, and the crier was ordered to go round the town. I also
dispatched T. G. to London, to make inquiries at the station and the
hotel, lest by chance I had taken it out during my short visit at the
London Bridge house, where I had been surrounded by a number of friends.
While making a last search in the room, by accident I shook the heavy
wooden frame of the bed, from which everything had been
removed--bedding, beds, and all, but without success--to my
astonishment and delight, I heard something fall. It was my lost
pocket-book. I had thrown my great coat over me in the night (the
weather being cold), and the book had worked its way out, and got
between the frame of the bedstead and the wall. Upon this discovery I
immediately telegraphed for T. G. to return, in these words: “Stop a
gentleman of colour--it’s all right.”
On the arrival of the train at Tonbridge, the cry of “Stop the gentleman
of colour” was loudly shouted along the station. “All right, all right,”
cried T. G.; “here I am.” He immediately jumped into the special down
train, and arrived time enough to save the steamer.
The _quid pro quo_ of passengers as well as railway employés was, that
the thief had been captured, and it served him right. I heard afterwards
this was the exclamation of many at the time.
T. G.’s devotion was certainly not repaid, but, when explained at the
hotel, the incident caused great mirth. This was our first tribulation,
which, though unpleasant, had the merit of being the first germ of
excitement.
The same morning, in a rough sea and heavy rain, we sailed for
Boulogne-sur-Mer. The steamer was very much crowded with Crimean
passengers, and almost every one paid the usual nautical debt to
Neptune, looking more or less uninteresting. The beauty of the female
part of the passengers had faded, and nothing but pale, livid faces
remained, in place of the blooming, peach-like countenances. A very
thick fog came on, and the speed of the steamer was of course checked.
We progressed slowly through the opaque atmosphere and heavy rain. After
we had made all the signals required, the steam-whistle was heard, and
we found ourselves going ahead towards the round tower on the right hand
side of the port, the sight of which seemed to astonish the crew of the
vessel, and more so one of the passengers, an old gentleman, who
exclaimed, “We are in the same position as the _Amphitrite_, which was
wrecked in 1833, when above two hundred souls perished. A fisherman
named Pierre Hénin distinguished himself so greatly on that occasion,
that he was decorated by both countries--France and England.”
I observed, that the sea must have been about three times as rough at
that time, and it was to be hoped, in case of danger, we should meet
with several Pierre Hénins. However, by backing for about twenty
minutes, and the fog clearing off by degrees, we arrived safely, but too
late for the train. The jetty was rather crowded for that time of the
year. Our delay and the fog had rendered our passage interesting--rather
more so than pleasant. My intention was to take the first train, when,
on reaching the jetty, who should I perceive but my friend M. Léon, the
Emperor’s first valet-de-chambre, one of the persons that have been
longest employed about his Majesty’s person, having been with him above
sixteen years. He is much esteemed by his imperial master, none but
himself approaching his person while in his private apartment. It is M.
Léon who sleeps before the door of his illustrious master’s chamber
while travelling, as the Mamelouk Roustan did before that of Napoleon
the First. “Hollo!” he exclaimed, “are you here, my dear friend?”
“Yes, I am. What brings you here at this season? And where is his
Majesty?” said I.
“You may depend upon it,” he replied, “that if the Emperor were not
here, I should not be at Boulogne; but we have only come for a few days.
The Emperor is going to attend a review to-morrow. I hear you are going
to the Crimea.”
“Yes, I am.”
“So we saw by the newspapers, and the Emperor was much pleased to hear
it, and expressed his satisfaction by no doubt thinking it was an
excellent idea for you to be sent over there. When do you start?”
“Almost directly,” I replied.
“Stay here to-night. I will tell the Emperor you are here. Come and sup
with me this evening.”
“Thank you, I will.” We then parted; I sending some of my attendants on
to Paris. The implacable douaniers then commenced their perilous sport;
and although, thanks to a friend of mine, I had an official passport
from the French Embassy, signed by Count Walewski, two of my boxes
containing my Shilling Cookery Books were confiscated till the next
morning, but eventually allowed to pass free of duty, but not of
trouble, and would have been the cause of my losing a day for nothing,
had it not been that we were too late for the train. At ten minutes to
seven o’clock, through a very heavy rain and a brisk gale, we arrived at
the “Grand Hôtel du Pavilion,” which had just been finished, and was
inhabited for the first time. This hotel is situated about five hundred
yards from the Etablissement des Bains, at the foot of the bank, on the
right hand side of that establishment. Any person who has visited
Boulogne must be acquainted with the spot. It is rather remarkable that
soon after the arrival of the Emperor--in fact, he only just had time to
dress after his journey--an avalanche of earth fell from the top of the
bank, shaking the very foundations of the hotel. At the back of the
house the earth reached higher than the second floor, breaking the
windows. Some of the _débris_ actually fell into the Emperor’s
dressing-room, only a few minutes after he had left it. The slip of
earth was supposed to have been caused by the melting of the snow, which
had lain there for some time, as well as the rain, which had been
pouring down, night and day, for a week.
My friend was just sitting down to supper, when I joined them, it being
then eight o’clock, _heure militaire_, punctuality being the motto in
every department in the imperial household. Having introduced my
secretary, T. G., the conversation turned upon the avalanche, then upon
the _grand repas de corps_, as it is called in France, or military
banquet, given that evening to the generals and officers of the Camp de
Boulogne. But the most important part of the conversation was upon the
contemplated departure of Napoleon for the East. He was to travel from
Paris to Marseilles incog., with but very few of his suite.
“Everything,” said M. Léon, “is packed and ready, and we may start at
an hour’s notice. Your friend Benoit has already sent his _batterie de
cuisine_, and a quantity of preserved provisions.” (M. Benoit is the
Emperor’s _chef de cuisine_.)[6]
Whilst we were conversing, a footman entered, in a state of anxiety and
excitement, and exclaimed--“There is not a single cigar, and the Emperor
has asked for some.”
“Very well,” said the maître d’hôtel, “go and buy some.” In about half
an hour he returned with a square box, three parts full of various kinds
of cigars, which he had no doubt purchased at all the nearest grocers’
shops, clearing out their stock of _French_ Havana cigars.
“Couldn’t you get better ones than these?” said the maître d’hôtel.
“No doubt I could, but not near.”
“Then, take them up.” He despatched another servant to the Rue de l’Ecu
for a box of good ones, which arrived too late. Owing to a most
unexpected circumstance, the company only had the opportunity of
partaking of a few of them, for they scarcely had time to light cigars,
when a telegraphic dispatch arrived. My friend M. Léon told one of the
attendants to go and see if his Majesty had left the banqueting-room,
and if he was in his cabinet. While this was passing, I took the
dispatch in my hand, and by way of a joke, said to him, “As France and
England are now allied, and have the same policy, I have here an
official English Government letter, which, if you like, I will exchange
for your dispatch.”
“It might be done,” said he, laughing; “but, upon consideration, the
Emperor would very likely prefer his own.” The servant returned, and
informed him that the Emperor was still at table. The dispatch remained
about ten minutes longer near M. Léon, when they came and apprised him
that Napoleon was in his cabinet. M. Léon went up with the dispatch, and
in a few minutes returned, saying to me, “Do you know what the contents
of the letter you wished to exchange for yours were?”
“Certainly not,” I replied.
“The contents are, that the Emperor Nicholas is dead.” Every one was
thunderstruck by the unexpected announcement, and we could hardly
believe it. “If you come up quickly, you will hear the Emperor himself
announce it to the company in the banqueting-room.”
We obeyed, but only arrived in time to hear the last words--“a cessé de
vivre.” Special orders were then given that no demonstration should be
made, and a low and mournful conversational sound was alone heard
amongst those assembled. A few minutes after leaving the imperial
palace, a friend and myself were quietly taking our coffee at a
celebrated establishment, and in conversation said loud enough to be
heard by our neighbours, that certainly the death of the Emperor
Nicholas was very likely to change the state of affairs, as the present
Emperor, Alexander was, so we had always heard, rather a pacificator.
Before we could finish the remark, an elderly gentleman, who was sitting
near us, exclaimed, “What do you say? What do you say, sir?--the Emperor
Nicholas dead?”
“Yes, sir, he is dead.”
“Go to ----, sir; that’s another Crimean shave, like the taking of
Sebastopol.”
“Sir,” I replied, “I can vouch for this not being a shave, and that his
Majesty, the Emperor Nicholas the First of Russia, expired yesterday;
and what is more, I will lay you a wager of it.”
In a few minutes some jumped upon the chairs and benches, others upon
the billiard-table, looking at me, no doubt anxious to see whether I was
intoxicated or mad. One gentleman raising his voice, said, “I’ll bet
anything this report is not true.”
“Done for a dozen of champagne.”
“I take you, and we will drink your health at your own expense.”
We scarcely had time to deposit our money with the lady who presided at
the bar of the establishment when mine was again in my pocket. A number
of officers who had returned from the banquet entered, and affirmed the
truth of what I had stated. Nevertheless, no one could believe it; so I
proposed returning my money to the stakeholder till the next morning,
and turning the champagne into an early _déjeuner à la fourchette_.
At the custom-house the following morning I was detained, and reached
twenty-five minutes behind the time appointed by my friend, and perhaps
thereby lost the chance of a short interview with the Emperor, which
made me bless the douaniers who were so long at their breakfast, and
longer still in clearing my luggage. I found my friend M. Léon smoking
his short pipe at the hotel door, with his hands in his _pantalon à la
cosaque_, a type _de troupier_ well worthy of the past and present
empire; so I made sure his Majesty was off.
“Oh, here you are at last--a fine fellow truly, and very punctual
indeed! Why, his Majesty has been gone this half-hour. I intimated you
were still here, and he would probably have seen you; but mind, if you
don’t look sharp, we shall be at Constantinople before you. You are sure
to see his Majesty there, for the first thing he will do will be to
visit all the hospitals, both French and English.”
“I am very glad to hear you say so, for the loss is on my side; but what
can you do when you are in the hands of the authorities; if you
recollect, the last time I was here, I fared worse, for I was locked up
more than two hours for coming without a passport, fancying myself a
true Briton, as they are allowed to land without any.”
“Then you really expect to go?” I again asked.
“Nothing can be more certain, when I tell you that everything is ready
for our departure. I much regret missing so excellent an opportunity.
When do you leave?”
This afternoon; our places are taken by telegraph at Marseilles through
the War Office; and I shall only remain in Paris twenty-four hours,
instead of two days, as I had anticipated.
Having related the scene at the café the previous evening, and invited
him to the dejeuner, he declined attending it, on the ground that some
unexpected news from Russia might cause his Majesty to return to Paris
immediately.
“Do you mean to say,” I exclaimed, “that you had not heard of the
Emperor Nicholas being indisposed previous to the arrival of the
despatch which announced his death?”
“Oh, yes; we did hear last evening. This was the third dispatch we
received yesterday, but we never dreamed of his dying till that one
came.”
“Well, many thanks for your kindness, my dear friend; and I hope to see
you at Scutari soon. I shall pay you a visit there.”
“Do,” said he; “I understand we shall have one of the Sultan’s palaces
on the Bosphorus. Adieu!”
After the dejeuner, and a protracted journey to the Boulogne Camp, my
friend and myself took the last train and arrived early in the morning
at Paris. My first visit was to the military hospital of the Val de
Grace, the Invalides, the Hôtel Dieu, &c. I was politely shown over each
establishment by the authorities on duty, and took notes of all the
ingredients used for the preparation of the daily diets of both officers
and soldiers.
We started the same evening for Lyons, stayed a few hours there, and
visited the military hospital at that place, and took the steamer to
Avignon. On board we found the Smyrna ladies, about thirty in number,
under the orders of Mrs. M. Cooke; there were also many doctors. I had
seen them the day previous at the Hôtel des Princes, Rue Richelieu, but
had not the slightest knowledge of who or what they were. As the ladies
were all dressed in grey, I took them for Quakeresses upon a
pilgrimage.
CHAPTER V.
COMFORT ON SHORE AND PENANCE AT SEA.
Tour of inspection at Marseilles--The booking office--Sleeping upon
deck--Places transferred--The bouillabaisse--The Olio--Marseilles
dishes--A harrowing spectacle--The _Simois_--A pleasant
prospect--Good ballast--The Bay of Ajaccio--_Compagnons de
voyage_--Birthplace of the first Napoleon--La Signora
Grossetti--Twenty minutes in the kitchen of the house of the
Emperor Napoleon the First--Memorials of the Emperor’s childhood--A
charming evening--Once more afloat--An enraged
_restaurateur_--Struggle for a leg of mutton--Messina--The
Piræus--Athens.
On arriving at Marseilles, I made inquiries at the Station as to what
provisions could be obtained for the army, if required. I bade my
friends adieu, in hopes of having the pleasure of seeing them on board
the next day, and in particular Mr. and Mrs. Cooke, who really took
their duty to heart, and had a most difficult task to perform. After
viewing all the magazines of Marseilles and its warehouses, I perceived
that my countrymen, in the way of national business, were very little
boys, who could hardly walk, when compared with English commercial men
and the houses of Crosse and Blackwell, Fortnum and Mason, Hogarth,
Gamble, &c. Having done my duty, so far as the victualling department
was concerned, I found that with such a stock of provisions any
Government might keep its army in a state of perfect
_starvation_--should the French Government depend upon them--though at
the same time the quantity and quality might have served very well for a
dainty pic-nic of a couple of thousand epicures, the price also being so
high.
Passing by the Bureau des Messageries Impériales, I called in to see
about our places for the next day. I found an old friend, of fifteen
years’ standing at least, at the head of that department. “Ho!
pardieu,” said he, “I thought it was you, having seen several paragraphs
respecting your departure for the Crimea. I was afraid at one time you
would have gone by sea. I have two first cabin berths for you to-morrow;
but as you are a very gallant man, you will not mind sleeping upon deck
from here to Smyrna.”
“Sleeping upon deck! what do you mean? My places have been taken this
week past.”
“I know that--I have two first-cabin berths for you. How many cooks and
attendants have you got with you?”
“We are about eight in number.”
“Oh, I can manage them then; although I assure you we are cramped
everywhere.”
“What do you mean by my sleeping upon deck?”
“Why, because if you don’t, some of those ladies who are going to Smyrna
must. Four of them must sleep upon deck, as all the places are taken;
and I am sure you are too gallant to allow them to sleep in the open air
while you remain snug in your cabin. Tell me, are you obliged to start
with them?”
“Certainly not.”
“Then, wait for the next boat; it will not make forty-eight hours’
difference, and you will be very comfortable. You will go by Messina and
Athens, and be there nearly as soon. Moreover, you will be rendering a
great service to those ladies; besides, we should pack five or six
persons in your cabin.”
“Very well, transfer our places.”
“The next vessel is quite new, and it will be her first voyage. She is
most handsomely fitted up, and you will meet with capital company on
board. All the first cabins are taken by English and French officers;
you are sure to know some of them.”
“Very well; at what time shall we be here?”
“Be ready the day after to-morrow, about three P.M., at the Hôtel
d’Orient, where you are staying. I will send some men with a few cabs.
Mind you have all your luggage ready.”
“I will. Many thanks for your kindness.”
The next day, after visiting several public institutions, I was very
desirous to taste an excellent dish called the bouillabaisse, which is
exclusively a Marseillaise dish, as turtle-soup and roast beef and
plum-pudding are essentially English. I therefore invited a few friends
to that far-famed place, the “Reserve.” Among my guests, I had the
pleasure of numbering a most eminent, amiable, and gallant gentleman,
Captain Taunton, who, a few weeks previous, I heard, had the temerity to
run his ship, the _Fury_, so close to the port of Sebastopol, that a
round shot passed through her beam.
The Captain, my friend M. Giraldo, and myself, formed the trio of
degustators of the Grand Provençale dish called the bouillabaisse, as
well as another celebrated one called the olio. The first one I, with
veneration and justice, recognised as worthy of being immortalized in
the archives of cookery. The olio, like many of its companions, so
admired by the Marseillais, is only to be appreciated by the inhabitants
of that city, who must have sprung from a bed of garlic, instead of that
more genteel and more sweetly-perfumed one, the parsley-bed--so well
known to the juveniles, who are made to believe they were found
ruralizing amidst that delicate aromatic plant.
The bouillabaisse pertains to Marseilles, as the whitebait to Greenwich
and Blackwall. Even at Marseilles it is only at a few houses that you
can get it in perfection, among which the celebrated “Restaurant de la
Reserve” ranks as A 1, and next, the “Grand Hôtel des Colonies.”
After all, the “Reserve” is the principal place. This beautiful and
picturesque restaurant, with its pavilion and slim turrets, is
gracefully situated on the top of the high rock at the entrance of the
old seaport. When required, the proprietor procures the particular fish
alive, at the threshold of his door, and shell-fish required for the
composition of this dainty dish.[7] In less than an hour--during which
time we had partaken of a few small oysters, and some shell-fish
peculiar to Marseilles--the bouillabaisse was upon the table, smoking
hot, and perfuming the room with its aroma.
Although the bouillabaisse can be made with any kind of firm fish, in
all countries, and at all seasons of the year, I should be deceiving my
readers were I to say that it could be made in the same perfection as at
Marseilles; nevertheless, it can be made good if the receipt is closely
followed. The choice of fish for the purpose in England, although not as
suitable as those of the Marseillaise coast, being of a different
nature, will still produce an excellent, dainty dish.
Though this _petit déjeuner_ was very _recherché_, the bouillabaisse
threw all the accessory dishes into the shade. The landlord, who
favoured us with his company at dessert, informed me he made it himself;
and at my request, favoured me with the receipt, and the names of the
fish composing it.
I returned my best thanks for the condescension and trouble on his part
in so doing.
“Ah, Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “you may thank your name for that. I have
often seen you mentioned in our papers, and should have been sorry if
you had left our seaport without tasting our national dish in
perfection.” He observed, in handing it to me, “You are, of course,
aware that this dish cannot be made except at a seaport.”
“I am well aware of that fact,” I answered, “and that this semi-soup and
stew ought, by right, to be made at a seaport; nevertheless, the finest
seaport I have ever seen in England, and I might say in the world, for
fish, is London; therefore, my dear sir, give me the receipt, and I
shall, no doubt, fish out the fish from a good quarter.”
ORIGINAL RECEIPT FOR THE BOUILLABAISSE A LA MARSEILLAISE.
Before entering upon details, I will specify the different kinds of
fish most applicable. They are of two classes: one acting as a
mucilaginous agent, the other merely imparting the flavour; also an
essential point. The first class comprises--whitings, loups or
lupins, red mullets, soles, and turbots. The second--gurnets,
boudroies or boudreuils, lobsters or cray-fish, sea toads or
rascasses, galinettes, limbers, lazagnes or lucrèces. These latter
are plentiful in the Mediterranean seas.
As a general rule, this ragoût should be cooked in a stewpan,
rather broad than deep, and of thin metal, in order to the
ebullition proceeding quickly. Those in tin or thin iron are the
most appropriate, as the concoction must be done in a few minutes,
and with such rapidity that the liquor must be reduced to the
necessary point by the time the fish is cooked. It should also be
sent to table and eaten at once, as the shortest delay will cause
the quality to deteriorate. The principal fish must be cut in
pieces or slices sufficiently sized to serve each guest; the others
being merely accessories.
RECEIPT.--Slice up two large onions, place them in a stewpan as
before mentioned, wide but not deep, and of thin metal, add a few
spoonfuls of olive oil, and fry the onions of a pale brown colour.
Next, place the pieces of fish in the pan, cover them with warm
water, but no more than the depth of the contents; add salt, “in
moderation,” half a bay leaf, the flesh of half a lemon, without
pips or rind, two tomatoes cut in dice, after extracting the seeds,
a small tumbler of light white wine, a few peppercorns, and four
cloves of garlic. Set on a fierce stove and boil for twelve
minutes; by this time the liquor should be reduced to a third of
its original quantity. Add a small portion of saffron, a
table-spoonful of chopped parsley, allow it to boil a few seconds
longer, taste, and correct the seasoning, if required, and remove
from the fire.
During this process you should have prepared two dozen of slices of
light French bread or penny-roll, about half an inch in thickness,
which place in a tureen or dish, pour over them some of the liquor
from the ragoût, let it soak a minute or so, and again pour over in
order to soak the top as well as the bottom of the layers of bread.
Dish up separately the best pieces of fish with the remaining
liquor, and serve.
The variation called Bourride, differs in this only, viz., the
addition of seven or eight yolks of eggs to a good portion of the
liquor, which is stirred quickly over the fire till of the
consistence of a custard cream, and then poured upon the slices of
bread, with the addition of a tablespoonful of eau d’ail, or ayoli.
The eau d’ail or ayoli is prepared by crushing several cloves of
garlic, and saturating them with water; adding the requisite
quantity to the bourride.
My reason for printing this receipt, although partly impracticable
in England, is, that it is the original as given to me by the
worthy host of the “Reserve,” as so successfully made by him.
But as many of the fish required are not to be obtained in England,
and the quantity of garlic used would be objectionable to an
English palate, I beg to refer my readers to the Addenda for a
Bouillabaisse à l’Anglaise, which possesses two great
qualities:--firstly, to suit the palate of the _gourmet_; secondly,
that of being very strengthening. The broth is very generous and
wholesome for the invalid,--for the authenticity of which assertion
I appeal to the faculty.
Giraldo now informed us it was past three o’clock, and that we must be
on board by half-past six at latest. So shortly after, much to our
regret, we left our worthy landlord and his sanctorum of good cheer, and
at half-past four left the Hôtel d’Orient to go on board the steamer,
accompanied by the gallant Captain Taunton, Mr. Giraldo, and a few other
friends.
Upon arriving at the docks, a most painful sight fell under our notice;
it was indeed a spectacle calculated to pain the soul of the greatest
philosopher. The quays round the harbour were thickly lined with sick
and wounded. There were about seven or eight hundred, who had just been
landed from two French steamers, one from Constantinople, the other from
the Crimea. Some were placed upon straw, others upon bedding, until they
could be removed to the hospital, according to the nature of their
cases. Their appearance, I regret to say, was more than indescribable.
All the afflictions so common to the fate of war seemed to have met and
fallen at once upon those brave fellows, who, a few months previous,
were the pride of their country. Many of them, to their sorrow, had not
enjoyed a chance of facing the enemy; while those who were wounded
looked joyful compared with those who were the victims of
epidemics--typhus fever, diarrhœa, dysentery, cholera, or frostbites.
I conversed with several; not one complained, but merely regretted the
friends who had died on the passage and those sick left behind, and
bewailed that they had done so little for their country in the campaign.
Mr. Giraldo, who had superintended the disembarkation, informed me that
such scenes were of daily occurrence at Marseilles; adding, this must be
very encouraging for you. Saying also in irony, “lend soldiers to the
Turks--how well they thrive under the banner of Mahomet! Well, well, my
dear sir, after all, this is nothing more than the fortune of war: ‘à la
guerre comme à la guerre.’”
This was the first disastrous sight I witnessed in this great war, and
though anything but encouraging, merely grated upon my sensibility,
without in the least affecting my mind. I must say T. G. showed much
firmness upon this solemn occasion, which firmness rather failed him
afterwards.
At five we were on the deck of the _Simois_, the name of our vessel. It
was her first trip, she having only arrived a few days previous from
Liverpool. All on board was in great confusion; a part of the vessel had
just taken fire, and the sailors were engaged putting it out, and
cutting away the burning portions; however, it was soon extinguished. We
then learnt, that upon coming into dock she had met with serious damage,
which they had scarcely had time to repair, and the painters were still
on board busily employed varnishing the first cabin. I was next told
that about four hundred troops, who were expected, had not arrived, and
that we should start without them. A lady, who was standing by,
exclaimed, “Oh, thank God for that! I cannot bear soldiers.”
“I thought,” I said, “it was a very bad job instead of a good one, as
the vessel would be crank, through not being sufficiently loaded, and
would in consequence roll very much.”
The weather being reported very rough outside, we were in suspense as to
whether we should leave that night or not. On a sudden the screw slowly
commenced its evolutions, and propelled us, not without difficulty, from
the narrow port to the wide ocean--passing amongst huge rocks, on the
very summit of which the furious waves were breaking. The evening was
fast advancing, and the vessel was already rolling very heavily. We soon
made the rock of Monte Christo, immortalized by Dumas. A yellowish
sunset, piercing the heavy rain, faintly lighted the crest of this arid
and uninhabitable spot. Shortly after, all was darkness, and many
retired. Two or three remained till about ten o’clock, when the steward
cheerfully informed us, that the weather was about the same as when the
_Semillante_ was lost ten days before, and not a soul escaped. Nearly
five hundred troops, besides passengers and crew, were drowned.
“Was she bound eastward?” inquired a passenger.
“Yes, sir, she was; we are steering the same course, but there is
another passage. I hope we shall get through before night to-morrow, and
if the sea holds as rough as it is now, no doubt we shall take the
other.”
We all turned into our berths, laughing at his mournful tale. Before
going, I said: “Believe me, steward, we are safer than ever, for you
seldom hear of two accidents alike.”
“Very true, sir; but this boat seems unlucky. I can’t tell you all the
mishaps we have had in her since I have been on board, and that is only
one month.” She was then rolling at a tremendous rate. At each plunge, a
fearful noise was heard. Upon inquiry, some one on board informed me
that he believed they had projectiles for ballast, and these were
rolling and shifting at each plunge the steamer made. Such a cargo,
though quite in harmony with the martial trip, was anything but
pleasing. Everything rolled and tumbled about fearfully during the whole
of the night. At length day broke, with a glowing sun and a heavy sea
running mountains high; so much so, that it was dangerous to attempt the
passage. Such must have been the case, as the mail-boats are not allowed
to stop except in cases of extreme danger. Our careful commander gave
orders to bring up in the Bay of Ajaccio. After sixteen hours’
flirtation on the wild ocean, we entered this calm and peaceable port,
much to the relief of all. We then collected round the table; and while
partaking of a light lunch, we had time to become acquainted with each
other. Among our _compagnons de voyage_ were General Cannon, Captain
Arbuckle, Colonel St. George, of the Artillery, Captain Ponsonby, Major
Turner, Captain Gordon, ---- Murrogh, Esq., ---- Ball, Esq., the Queen’s
Messenger, and three or four French officers, among whom was Captain
Boucher, aide-de-camp to General Canrobert, and afterwards to General
Bosquet. After some remarks upon our unfavourable start, we all blessed
our stars for the shelter we were then enjoying in the peaceable
harbour, so picturesquely surrounded by its beautiful _petite ville_,
the cradle of the first Napoleon--Ajaccio--so well situated in that
savage and energetic island of poetically ferocious heroism, habits, and
eternal vendettas, so interesting to all since the revival of that
illustrious dynasty in the person of Napoleon the Third.
All of course were anxious to visit this celebrated spot; and on
inquiring of the commander, he told us he should sail the next morning
early if the weather was more favourable. We formed ourselves into
parties of five or six, and as it was only three o’clock, we had plenty
of time before us: our greatest anxiety was to visit the house in which
the great Napoleon was born. Our party arrived first, as we had a very
clever guide, who promised if possible to introduce us to La Signora
Grossetti, saying we should have a great treat, as the old lady, who was
then eighty-three years of age, had been all her life in the Buonaparte
family in Corsica. We luckily met the old lady just coming out, and upon
being introduced, she immediately returned to do us the honours of the
house. She has been housekeeper there for above thirty years. After
visiting the apartments which are always on view--viz., the
drawing-room, dining-room, concert and ball room, library, and the small
bed-room in which that almost fabulous hero was born, I asked the old
gentlewoman, as a special favour, to show me the kitchen. No one was
ever more astonished than she appeared to be at my request. “Why, surely
there is nothing to be seen there but ruins, and I don’t even know where
the key is.”
All this redoubled my interest. We went up stairs, and found in an old
drawer three rusty keys, which we brought down; one of them opened the
door, which, on being pushed rather forcibly, fell from its hinges. We
then descended, and opened the shutters, which likewise tumbled from
their fastenings. After visiting the various departments which
constitute a gentleman’s kitchen, I wrote upon the stove the following
letter to the public press, which, through the mismanagement of my
servant, who threw it into the post without paying the postage, never
reached its destination:--
_Twenty Minutes in the Kitchen of the House of the Emperor Napoleon the
First._
MR. EDITOR,--It is an incontestable truism that “It is an ill wind
that blows nobody good;” but in this case it will be found the
reverse. Owing to most terribly rough weather, in fourteen hours
from our departure from Marseilles, _en route_ to Constantinople,
we are brought up here by our prudent Captain, sheltering us in the
bosom of the harbour of Ajaccio, the birthplace of the alliance now
existing between the two great nations of France and England. Such
reminiscences of the first of the great Napoleon’s family caused
the shore to be invaded in a few minutes by the numerous
passengers, particularly the distinguished military men of both
nations. Many visited the Hôtel de Ville, full of objects of
interest, reminding one of the late empire; others, the Letitia
House; and some inquired, with great coolness, if it were possible
to see either of the Corsican Brothers now in existence. In a very
few minutes my curiosity was gratified by a cursory examination of
the above-mentioned interesting subjects; and by a great deal of
courtesy and perseverance, I obtained from La Signora Grossetti
(who had been in the late Emperor’s family from her infancy) the
rusted key of the kitchen-door of that interesting and now deserted
domicile--such a request having never before been made by the
numerous travellers who daily visit it.
And it is, Mr. Editor, while writing upon the stove in this
celebrated kitchen--which first alimented the brain of that great
hero--that I beg to address you the following few lines at random,
as the weather bids fair and our departure is immediate. On my left
hand is a well-constructed charcoal stove, containing six nine-inch
square cooking-places, covered with glazed red tiles (a piece of
which I have procured, and intend placing in my kitchen at
Scutari); an oval one, about eighteen inches long by about six
inches wide, on which the most delicious fish, game, meat, and
poultry, were no doubt submitted to the highest perfection of the
culinary art. At the spot at which I am now writing, the roasting
by wood fire, and the broiling by red ashes, were carried on, as I
perceive, by the remains of the hearth. There is also the old Jack,
with the pulley that supported the rope and weights. On my right is
an old semi-circular oven, partly in ruins, with an old-fashioned
wrought-iron door, in which no doubt the cakes and choice pastry
were prepared to gratify the imperial infant’s palate. Larders,
confectionery, and all the requisite appointments of a kitchen are
not wanting; which, though in a most dilapidated state, still left
an appearance of grandeur which none but a family of distinction
could afford--very different from what has been often reported and
believed by the vulgar--viz., that this great man had his origin in
the bosom of an indigent family.
With the highest consideration, believe me, Mr. Editor, yours very
faithfully,
A. SOYER.
_March 13, 1855._
[Illustration: KITCHEN AT AJACCIO OF NAPOLEON THE FIRST.]
The old lady seemed much pleased with the very extraordinary interest I
took in the place, and proposed to show us her private apartment at the
top of the house, which she assured us was full of reminiscences of
the Emperor’s childhood. His wooden arm-chair and desk, inkstand, and a
few boy’s toys--such as a small gun, soldiers, shako, &c.--are carefully
preserved by the old and faithful servant of her illustrious master.
Though of great age, she was very animated, and made all sorts of
inquiries about the war, and if we had seen the present Emperor; having
satisfied her curiosity, we retired, highly pleased with our visit to
Ajaccio.
We were much indebted to La Signora Grossetti, who had really shown us
things that no former traveller could boast of having seen. I could not
part with the old dame without saluting her on both cheeks, which she
very kindly returned, it being the custom of the country, as she said.
This scene terminated, much to the surprise and enjoyment of my
_compagnons de voyage_--Captain Gordon and Mr. Munro of the Ordnance,
with several French officers--our interview with that kind and
extraordinary lady.
I had taken (as I mentioned in my letter) a piece of tile from the
charcoal stove, and a rough wooden meat-hook which I found in the
larder, dating, as the Signora told me, from that epoch. Our time being
short, and the night rapidly approaching, we re-embarked, and related,
to the great delight of all, our amorous adventure with the nurse of the
first Napoleon. All regretted not having been of our party. We spent a
very charming evening on board, each one relating what he had seen. The
Town Hall, I must observe, is very interesting, being filled with relics
of the Buonaparte family, with full-length portraits of the father and
mother of the Emperor. I was also much pleased at seeing one of the best
statuettes of the late _arbiter elegantiarum_, the celebrated Count
D’Orsay, given by him to the present Emperor for the town of Ajaccio. It
is the well-known statuette of Napoleon the First on horseback; and in a
frame beside it is the original letter of presentation written by the
Count himself, which I can vouch for, “having many of his letters in my
possession.” The style is so charming, that I regret not having had time
to take a copy.
Next morning, with a fresh breeze, bright sun, and a clear sky, we left
this immortal and delightful spot, where avenues of orange-trees, loaded
with ripe fruit, ornament both sides of the streets; and at the same
time, “by the bizarrerie of nature,” the chain of mountains which
surround this romantic spot are always covered with snow. In ten minutes
we were again launched upon the wide ocean. Though the sea was not so
rough, the waves dashed about furiously, and made the vessel roll even
more than the day before. This is always the case after a gale. We were
all much amused at the _restaurateur_ of the steamer, who kept cursing
everybody, because all his glass and crockery were smashed to pieces;
and all because, as he declared, the vessel had started before she had
been properly fitted up. The Captain, in trying to soothe him, drove him
raving mad, and he commenced throwing overboard all the plates, dishes,
and glass on which he could lay his hands. At length he caught hold of a
leg of mutton, and was about to serve it in the same manner. I happened
to be near him, and not quite approving of casting good victuals
overboard while at sea, I took upon myself to object to this part of his
proceedings. I was the more induced to do this because I had promised my
illustrious _compagnons de voyage_ to look after the cook and his
cooking, with which he really took much pains, and gave us great
satisfaction. The infuriated Marseillais poured a volley of the most
foul language in his Provençal dialect, while he and I were holding the
doomed leg of mutton. He then asked me who I was?
“A passenger,” I replied; “and one who has a most decided objection to
your feeding the fish--with legs of mutton,” I continued, boldly. He
then gave it up; and, in acknowledging he was in the wrong, exclaimed,
at the top of his voice, “I wish you no harm, but I should be highly
pleased if you and all in the steamer were at the bottom of the sea.”
“Wherefore?”
“You ask me wherefore! Because I shall lose above a thousand francs.”
[Illustration: COOKING ON THE MAGIC STOVE IN THE ACROPOLIS AT ATHENS.]
“The directors will make that up,” I said.
“Not a sous,” said he.
The comical part of this scene was enhanced by the continual rolling of
the ship.
This incident kept us alive till we reached Messina. The following
letter, addressed to the _Illustrated London News_, will explain my
subsequent proceedings:--
ACROPOLIS, ATHENS, _March 18_.
Having left Marseilles, on the 12th inst., for Constantinople, in
the prosecution of my mission to the Hospital at Scutari, owing to
a sudden and unexpected change from a beautifully calm to a rough
and stormy sea, M. Favre, the captain of our vessel (the _Simois_),
was compelled to seek shelter in the peaceable harbour of Ajaccio,
in Corsica, the birthplace of the immortal Emperor Napoleon I.
Since our departure from that celebrated port, a favourable breeze
succeeding a most tempestuous gale, soon brought us alongside the
Levrazzi Rocks, on which the French frigate _Semillante_ was
wrecked a few weeks ago, and all her passengers and crew lost. At
night we were gratified with the sight of a slight eruption of the
Stromboli Mountain, which rises immediately from the ocean to the
height of several thousand feet. Next morning we arrived at
Messina, the spring garden of Sicily, where, in the open air,
orange and lemon trees were in full blossom, and covered with
delicious fruit. Lilies, roses, and violets perfume the air; whilst
peas, beans, artichokes, and asparagus are gathered at the foot of
the lofty mountains covered with snow. Although Messina is well
known to travellers, yet they are not so well acquainted with the
productions of its early spring. After a few hours’ ramble in this
interesting city, our party embarked, and rapidly passed on our
left the small but pretty town of Reggio, and on our right the
mighty Mount Ætna, covered with deep snow. In less than forty-seven
hours the _Simois_ brought us before the Piræus, the voyage never
before having been accomplished under fifty.
The _Simois_ is an English vessel, built at Liverpool by Mr.
Layward, and recently purchased by the Messageries Impériales, and
this is her first voyage in this sea. From the unexpected quickness
of our passage, we were allowed to remain at this port four hours,
and availed ourselves of the opportunity of visiting Athens. At the
present time, in the ancient Parthenon, I am cooking, with my new
camp-stove, on a fallen capital of the stupendous ruins, a _petit
déjeûner à la fourchette_, with Greek and Sicilian wines, for my
distinguished fellow-travellers; amongst whom are General Cannon
(Behram Pacha); Colonel St. George, of the Woolwich Artillery;
Captain Gordon; Captains Turner and Ponsonby; G. Munro, Esq.; W. S.
Ball, Esq., Q.F.M.S.; Captain Arbuckle; Captain Boucher,
Aide-de-camp of General Canrobert; and Signor Pitaki, the Governor
of the Acropolis.
We shall speedily re-embark for Constantinople.
A. SOYER.
CHAPTER VI.
THE LAND OF THE MOSLEM.
Departure from Greece--Amusements at sea--The
Dardanelles--Gallipoli--A philharmonic soirée--Approach to the
Bosphorus--First view of the Scutari Hospital--Reflections--The
deserted steamer--The lady and her maid--Beautiful scene--The
Golden Horn--Castle of the Seven Towers--Kadikoi--General and
Barrack Hospitals--Grand panorama--Various
edifices--Stamboul--Grand Oriental pageant--The Sultan’s
kitchens--The Harem--Punishment for Turkish ladies--The Leander
Tower--A romantic tale--On shore again--The enchantment
dissolves--First glimpse of a pacha--The terrace of my hotel.
On leaving the Piræsus the weather was fine, and the sea as smooth as a
lake. All our party were themselves again--jovial, happy, and talkative
at meals; reading, writing, games at cards, draughts, dominoes, &c.,
filling up the time. We were like one happy and united family. I paid my
daily visit to the _restaurateur_ and his _chef_, with whom I was soon
on good terms. Towards evening, we collected on the upper deck, where
many French sous-officiers from the second-class cabin joined us, and
sang most admirably, from the simple ballad to the gay gaudriole, the
high operatic solo, and comic or classic choruses.
Next morning, we passed the straits and town of the Dardanelles, where
the Allied flags were gaily floating from the houses of the respective
Consulates. We made but a short stay in its cheerful and animated bay to
deliver the mail. The rapid current, with the numbers of Greeks, in
their gay costumes and slim caiques, trying to sell the passengers all
sorts of things, and so do them out of a few piastres, rendered our
short stay at that place highly amusing. Our next and last stay, before
reaching Constantinople, was Gallipoli, where every one of our party
landed, and remained on shore about an hour. General Cannon had an
excellent idea; he sent some oysters on board, which made a good
addition to our bill of fare. The Gallipoli oysters are small and
ill-formed, but very sweet. The same cannot be said of the town and its
inhabitants--both extremely dirty. Indeed, this first Oriental seaport
contrasts most outrageously with the grand paraphernalia of the “Arabian
Nights.” The evening before our arrival, to our sorrow, we learnt from
the Captain that, owing to the favourable winds we had experienced
during the last sixty hours, if nothing happened, we should enter the
Bosphorus before daybreak. Thus all chance of the view of the grand
panorama of Constantine, so highly praised by travellers, and especially
by poets, which we had so long anticipated, was entirely lost. What can
be more charming and refreshing, after a long sea-passage, where life
has long been suspended in space between heaven and the mighty deep,
than the gradual development of a cheerful panorama, a view of which we
had been some time anticipating?
The first quarter of the moon, forming the crescent--the favourite
emblem of the Moslem--was seen now and then peeping through the murky
clouds, which, in their swift career, cast a dewy shadow upon the ocean.
This did not, however, prevent our philharmonic party from mustering
upon deck in greater numbers than on previous occasions, probably
because it was the last. We kept it up till eleven o’clock, and then
retired perfectly delighted with our voyage, having already forgotten
our unfavourable departure, and regretting nothing but our too-early
arrival in the Bosphorus. The night was calm, and, on going on deck at
daybreak, I heard, to my great satisfaction, that we had proceeded very
slowly all night, there having been a thick fog, which was slowly
disappearing--“a thing,” said the Captain, “seldom seen in the sea of
Marmora.” I returned to my cabin, and only lay down that I might be
ready when Constantinople came in sight, as the Captain had promised to
send and let me know.
About eight in the morning every one was on deck, and the crew busily
engaged getting up the luggage, as our arrival was fixed for nine
o’clock. We then commenced inquiring about the hotels. All fixed upon
Messerie’s hotel, called “L’Hôtel d’Angleterre,” as being the best. By
this time, we were slowly approaching the mouth of the Bosphorus. The
weather was anything but favourable--rain kept falling--everything on
deck was wet, and the air very chilly. General Cannon said to me, “I am
very sorry, Mr. Soyer, for your sake, and that of Captain Ponsonby and
Colonel St. George, that we shall not see the famed view of
Constantinople to advantage. I have already witnessed it, this being my
third voyage. However, as the weather is very changeable here, it may be
a fine day after all.” The great Oriental City was then opening to view,
but, owing to the thick atmosphere, appeared nothing but a confused
mass. Twenty minutes later we were entering the Bosphorus, the grandeur
and magnificence of which, though often described, I cannot pass without
a few remarks.
My mind was quite overpowered when I learnt that the monster building
before us was the Scutari Hospital--a town in itself--and I reflected
that it was full of sick and wounded; that each patient would require
from three to four articles of diet daily, making a total of several
thousand per diem to be provided in some shape or other; and that I had
undertaken to reform and introduce a better organization in the cooking
department, where all was confusion, in so strange a country. I must
confess that, for an hour or so, I was quite at a loss to think how I
should commence operations. I did not know one official there. I had not
the least idea how I should be received; and, after all, I might
probably catch the fever, or some other complaint at the time raging
within its walls. Suddenly I recollected the plan I had explained to the
Duchess of Sutherland and her noble circle, which was to be tried upon a
hundred patients. This had entirely escaped my memory; and in a few
minutes my puzzled brain was as clear as a bell, and I felt confident of
success. “If I succeed with a hundred,” said I, “in a very short time I
can manage a thousand, providing I meet with proper support.”
I afterwards learnt from the doctor on board, that the large red brick
building on the right, about half a mile from the Barrack Hospital, was
called the General Hospital, in which there were at least five or six
hundred patients. My resolution as to how I should act was then fixed;
nothing appeared difficult to me; and, instead of fearing the
undertaking, I was most anxious to begin. Having been advised to call at
Pera, to announce my arrival, and pay my duty to Lord Stratford de
Redcliffe, before going to Scutari, I ordered my people to go on shore
as soon as possible; for, during my reverie upon hospital duties, our
good vessel had anchored.
There was only room at Messerie’s Hotel for General Cannon and his
aide-de-camp. He had bespoken his apartments. Two young gentlemen
apprised us of the fact, and recommended their hotel, as we could not
get accommodation at the “Hôtel d’Angleterre.” As I had a letter of
introduction to Mr. Messerie, I directed my friend T. G. to call there
and make inquiries; and if he found that we could not be received, to go
to the “Hôtel des Ambassadeurs,” that establishment being the next in
standing. As I promised to remain on board till he returned, I was left
almost alone. There was only a lady and her maid. The former was going
by a transport-ship the same evening, to join her husband at Balaklava;
she therefore had no time to go on shore. Colonel St. George, Captains
Ponsonby and Gordon, Mr. Ball, and General Canrobert’s aides-de-camp,
and others, had all left.
By this time the weather had assumed a most brilliant aspect--the morose
and monotonous-looking clouds, which before monopolised the region in
the immediate vicinity of the famed city of Mahomet, had been chased
away by a strong breeze; the sun shed his golden rays in gorgeous
streams from the purple vault of heaven, and the utmost depths of the
lucid waters of the Bosphorus reflected his splendours. The entrance of
the Corne d’Or--so called, no doubt, because it takes the shape of a
horn of plenty--is in truth a Golden Horn, from the facilities it
affords for maritime and commercial intercourse, as well as navigation,
penetrating, as it does, into the very bosom of the imperial city.
Constantinople, like London, has no quays; and on every side this
immense metropolis plunges its feet, or banks, into the Bosphorus, from
which it rises, offering to the view the most magnificent spectacle
beneath the canopy of heaven. This is particularly the case from the
Seraglio Point, where the real city of Istamboul is seated. The soil
rises from the level of the water, presenting a vast amphitheatre of
myriads of houses, mosques, minarets, and monuments of all descriptions,
intermixed with forests of sombre cypress trees.
A dragoman whom I engaged, and who spoke very good English, gave me a
description of the surrounding scenery. Nothing can be more ravishing
than the living panorama of the Bosphorus, covered with caiques and
their caidjees, darting about on all sides like water-flies. The
elegance of those frail barks, and the cleanliness of the light and
cheerful costume of their owners, so well develops the Oriental style,
that it cannot fail in forcibly striking every stranger. Numerous large
sailing-vessels, steamboats, Greek and Turkish barques, and even
men-of-war (many being then stationed in the Golden Horn), made me
forget for some time my mobile panorama, to dwell upon the nautical one,
which, so new to me, unexpectedly attracted my attention, when my
dragoman informed me that it was near eleven o’clock, and that my men
had returned for the luggage.
“Very well,” said I; “but pray explain to me the various places by which
we are now surrounded.”
“Certainly, sir, with great pleasure. I know every spot, palace, and
monument. On entering the Bosphorus this morning, you passed before the
Castle of the Seven Towers, where the ambassadors were formerly
imprisoned. Those islands to the left are the Isles des Princes. All the
Europeans go and spend their Sundays there. In summer many reside there,
and come to business in the morning, returning at night.”
“Those hills yonder, I suppose, are very pretty?”
“Oh, very much so indeed. Almost facing them is the Asiatic shore: that
pretty place to the left is called Kadikoi--a very pretty summer
residence, inhabited by rich merchants, particularly Greeks and
Armenians. It is full of beautiful houses and gardens, and is much
celebrated for its fine fruits. A little further this way is the General
Hospital--that red brick building.”
“That I am aware of. And the other is the great Barrack Hospital, with
its hundreds of windows and four square towers. They are full of English
sick and wounded--that I of course knew.”
“Next to it is a splendid mosque called the Sultan’s mosque. It is
frequented by his Majesty when he resides at his summer kiosque of Hyder
Pacha. That forest of cypress trees is the grand Champ des Morts, or the
favourite Turkish cemetery. It extends several miles. Several
generations are buried there.”
“Well, what follows?”
“This beautiful and picturesque spot, sir, is called Scutari. It is full
of kiosques and Turkish families, pachas, &c. It contains about a
hundred thousand inhabitants, almost all Turks, and extends beyond the
front of the Sultan’s new palace of Dolma Bachi. You can see it from
here. It is not quite finished, and is constructed chiefly of white
marble. Lower down is a palace inhabited by the Sultan. It is lighted by
gas--quite a new thing in Constantinople. That large building above, on
the heights, is the grand hospital of Pera, now used by the French; and
all the neighbourhood as far as the pointed tower is called Pera, the
Christian quarter, where are the foreign embassies and foreign
merchants’ residences. The large yellowish building with the colonnade
you see facing us so boldly is the Russian Embassy. They are about to
convert it into a hospital for the sick French officers. The beautiful
mosque and large square you see at the bottom is called Tophané. It
contains a large cannon-foundry; and in the centre of the square is the
kiosque belonging to the Sultan’s brother. His Majesty frequently
visits this place when he attends his favourite mosque.
“This large tower is called the Galata Tower, and from the top the
fire-signal is made; and I can assure you that in the winter its
guardians have something to do, as there is a fire every day or night.
Lower down, towards the bridge, is called Galata, where all mercantile
and commercial, as well as naval, business is transacted. Every rich
merchant of Pera has a counting-house there. The building at the bottom
is the Custom-house, or, as it should be called, the confusion-house;
for if unfortunately you get goods in, ‘tis a hundred to one if you ever
get them out again. The rough bridge you see yonder has only existed
these last twenty years. Before that was built, people were obliged to
cross from Stamboul to the European shore in caiques; and now, when
three or four large vessels have to pass through the bridge, it remains
open for several hours, keeping passengers waiting for that time. Two
more light bridges lower down cross the Golden Horn, and the navigation
terminates about two miles above the last bridge. In caiques you can go
as far as the sweet waters of Europe, which are about five miles further
up.”
“Thank you,” said I; “pray be less prolix in your descriptions.”
“Well, now, sir, as we are come to Stamboul, or the real city of
Constantinople, allow me to explain to you the names of some of those
beautiful mosques with which you see this vast city is crowded. The
first and most important is the Mosque of Sultan Bajazid, very
remarkable for the number of its volatile inhabitants, consisting of
several thousands of beautiful tame pigeons. That high tower behind it
is called the Seraskier’s Tower, and also serves the purpose of a
signal-tower in case of fire, the same as that of Pera. Then follow the
mosques of Sultan Selim, Mahomet, Sedya Tamissi, Solimaniek, Bayazid,
Osmanliek, Sultan Achmet, Irene, and the great Saint Sophia, which I
would in particular advise you to visit.”
“Of course I shall do that, you may be certain.”
“On the prominent part of this side of Saint Sophia the ceremony of the
Bairam is celebrated, at the close of the great feast of the Ramazan.
All the nobility of the Empire are in duty bound to appear in new and
most gaudy costumes at this magnificent Oriental pageant, which this
year will take place at the end of June, at about three o’clock in the
morning.”
“What a singular hour for so great a ceremony!” I remarked.
“Oh, that cannot be helped,” he replied, “as it is regulated by the
revolution of the moon. An old Turk, with whom I am well acquainted,
told me that he recollected its having happened at twelve o’clock in the
day, and in the middle of winter.”
“A strange custom,” said I.
“Well, sir, if you feel interested in Turkish habits and religion, you
should inquire about the six weeks of Rhamadhan, when they starve all
day, and get intoxicated to madness at night.”
“Thank you for your information; but pray continue your description.”
“I will. Near the very spot where this festival takes place is the
Sultan Mahmoud’s palace, the top of which you can see through those high
trees.”
“Pray, what are those rows of small domes, like well-corked bottles?”
“They are the kitchen chimneys.”
“What, all of them?”
“Yes, sir; I have often been there, and know well enough that, although
the Sultan no longer inhabits it, two or three hundred men-cooks remain
in the kitchens.”
“For what purpose, my friend, if no one lives there?”
“Oh, somebody does. I believe there is a college for some of the
favourite sons of high Turkish families. Here,” he continued, “look at
this uneven row of houses with lattices. Do you know what they are?”
“No; pray what are they?”
“Why, Sultan Mahmoud’s harem; and it is most probably still inhabited by
a few of his old favourites and their suites, which are very numerous.”
“Well, upon my word, those species of châlets put me very much in mind
of chicken-cages.”
The English officer’s wife, to whom I have before referred, and with
whom I had some conversation during the passage, came upon deck while my
dragoman was describing the surrounding scenery, and listened with vivid
interest, taking notes of the most interesting passages. The dragoman,
turning quickly round--“Madam,” said he, “you see that colossal spout
shooting out at a sharp incline towards the water. That is the spot from
whence, if any of the Turkish ladies prove disobedient or faithless to
their imperial lord and master, they are stitched up in a sack alive,
accompanied by a starving cat and a venomous serpent, and shot into that
mighty watery grave, the Bosphorus.”
“Monsieur Soyer, do you think that is true?”
“I believe such things have been done, madam, for it was pointed out to
me the first thing this morning as having been used for that purpose. I
recollect some years since reading the same tale either in a French or
English work; I believe it was French. At all events, European manners
and customs are progressing throughout the world, and have even reached
Turkey. I hear from every one, that the Sultan is a most amiable and
humane man. I would therefore recommend you to reserve your look of
horror and indignation for more modern calamities. You may be certain,
if such things have happened, they will never happen again, for, thank
Heaven, we live in a civilized era.”
“We should, perhaps, doubt such reports.”
“You are quite right, madam.”
“There is another curious tale related of the Leander Tower,” said the
lady.
“There is; but my dragoman tells me the proper name for it is _La Tour
de la Jeune Fille_, as they say in French, or the Maiden’s Tower.”
“I was here when a French tutor came to Constantinople,” said my
dragoman, “and the first thing he asked me was--‘Where is the Maiden’s
Tower?’ as the English call it. At all events, madam, the story runs
thus:--A great beauty, the daughter of some pacha, had her fortune told
by a celebrated gipsy, who apprised her that she would never marry, as
she was fated to die young. The girl, terrified at the prediction, ran,
and in tears related to her father the fatal destiny said to be in
reserve for her. He immediately sent for the old witch, and she repeated
the fatal prophecy, adding, moreover, that the young girl would die from
the bite of a serpent or some such venomous reptile. The pacha having
repeatedly asked the old woman if that was the only kind of speedy death
with which his daughter was menaced, and having received a reply in the
affirmative, parted upon very friendly terms with the hag, who was
possessed, as he said, by an evil spirit. He then caused this tower to
be built for his daughter’s residence, and for several years she lived
in this picturesque place, without being visited by any one but her
father, who continually supplied her with provisions of the most
delicate kind, and nosegays of the finest flowers. It happened one day,
that, on taking up one of the bouquets in order to inhale the perfume, a
small insect stung her on the lip, and in a few hours she expired in
great agony, before any succour could be obtained, as there was no
communication with the land, nor any antidote in readiness. So awful an
event, in so secluded a spot, had never been contemplated. The pacha’s
intention had been to keep his daughter there till she was of age to be
married, and thus break the spell of the old sorceress. The legend was
thus related to me by an Armenian gentleman who has lived here nearly
all his lifetime.”
“Well, I admit that I have not only heard the story before, but I
recollect the incident of the death of the young girl, from the bite of
a reptile, very well; and I also heard that the name of the Tower of
Leander is applied to it; but it has not the least relation to the
legend of the two lovers celebrated by Lord Byron, who also swam from
Sestos to Abydos.”
As my people had returned, and were waiting for me, I bade my fair
_compagnon de voyage_ adieu, expressing a hope to have the pleasure of
meeting her in Balaklava. Our two caidjees rapidly flew away with us
from the side of the _Simois_, and soon landed us at the Tophané
tumble-down stairs. We are now on shore; but what a contrast!--the fairy
scene has disappeared, and we appear to be in the midst of a penny show.
The Tophané landing place is nothing but a heap of rotten planks, parts
of which have given way, and the holes are rather dangerous, as one
might easily slip and break a leg. The very clean and picturesque
caidjees are waiting amidst heaps of manure and the carcase of a dead
horse, which had been thrown into the Bosphorus and had drifted on
shore. A number of ill-looking, half-famished dogs were feeding upon
that heap of corruption. On inquiring of the son of the proprietor of
the hotel, who accompanied me, he coolly told me that it had only been
there a day or two, and would probably remain for months--particularly
the skeleton--when the dogs had devoured all the flesh. The odour
arising from the carcass, and the filth daily cast into the water, was
very unwholesome, and quite unbearable; and very glad was I to quit the
great landing-place of Tophané--so called, no doubt, from the
extraordinary amount of daily traffic between the shipping above and the
Asiatic shore. About seventy or eighty caiques are always waiting there,
as it is the principal landing point at Constantinople.
Following my guide, we passed through a number of dirty narrow streets,
full of a black liquid mud, very ill paved--if they could be called
paved at all, amidst which numerous leperous and villanous-looking dogs
were snarling and fighting. Donkeys loaded with tiles, stones, and long
logs of wood filled up the filthy road; besides gangs of powerful and
noisy Turkish hamals or porters, carrying enormous loads upon long
poles. The enchanting mirage of the panoramic Constantinople vanished
rapidly from before my disenchanted eyes; this ephemeral Paradise of
Mahomet changing at once into an almost insupportable purgatory. I could
not imagine how such a mass of ruins and of miserable wooden houses
could, from so short a distance, take such a brilliant aspect or create
such ravishing sensations, as the first view of Constantinople had
raised in my mind from the deck of the _Simois_. I now envied the fate
of our fair fellow-traveller who so much regretted that she could not
disembark--were it only for a few hours. Those few hours, nay, the
first, would have sufficed to break the spell. Reader, though this is an
exact description of our entrance into Constantinople, I reasoned
thus--It is an immense metropolis, and no doubt something great exists
within its walls. I must wait patiently and try to find it out.
Reproaching my dragoman for bringing me through such a vile part of the
city, he quietly replied, in English, “There is no other road, sir; it
has rained very much lately, which is the cause of so much mud.” I now
perceived, that as far as the names of pavements go, the difference
between Constantinople and London was not so great,--the former being
_muck-muddy-mised_, and the latter _macadamised_.
At this moment we were turning the corner of the Grand Mosque of Sultan
Soliman; and a pacha, in all his obesity, mounted upon an Arabian horse,
and followed by his suite, six in number, rode full gallop through a
pond of liquid slush, splashing every one from head to foot on either
side the narrow street. An English soldier at once sent him his military
blessing; and the Turk, spurring his horse, exclaimed, “Not Bono Johnny;
Not Bono Johnny;” that being the name given to the English by the Turks.
After passing through several similar streets, consisting of ruinous
wooden shanties and shops of the lowest order, “viz., chibouque tube and
pipe-bowl makers,” the interior of which were dirty and mean, with
scarcely any kind of stock, we arrived at a fountain, in front of which
was a semi-perpendicular and narrow street. My guide informed me that my
hotel was at the end of this street. “It is,” he continued, “the Hôtel
d’Angleterre, called by the English--Messerie’s Hotel.”
“Thank God for that,” said I. In about twenty minutes we arrived at the
said hotel. As I had sent my letter to Mr. Messerie, he soon appeared,
and very cordially shook me by the hand, and politely expressed his
regret at not being able to accommodate me. He recommended the Hôtel des
Ambassadeurs. On my saying that I was going there, he made me promise to
call upon him the next morning, the distance from his house being but a
few paces.
When I arrived, I at once retired to my apartment, quite worn out with
fatigue. Having taken some refreshment, I made up my mind not to dine at
the table d’hôte. I learnt that Colonel St. George, Captain Ponsonby,
&c., had gone to the Hôtel de l’Europe, and I therefore felt free for
that evening. About five o’clock, Mons. Pantaleone Veracleo, a young
Greek, the son of the hotel-keeper, came and informed me that the table
d’hôte would be ready at six. Thanking him for his attention, I
proceeded to ask several questions about Constantinople, and also the
distance from the hotel to the British Embassy?
“Not five minutes’ walk, sir,” said he; “you can see it from the top of
the hotel. Our house is the highest in Pera!”
We mounted to the terrace, and my conductor pointed it out to me. From
this terrace I again beheld a similar panorama to that which I had
witnessed on board the _Simois_, and by which I had been so much
charmed. In order to enjoy it fully, I expressed my desire to remain a
short time alone. Having directed my attention to the different points
of view, Mr. Veracleo left me.
CHAPTER VII.
A BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF CONSTANTINOPLE FROM PERA.
An accomplished linguist--Le Petit Champ des Morts--Bird’s-eye
view--Breakfast table of the hotel--English Embassy--Interview with
Lady Stratford de Redcliffe--The sanctuary of high diplomacy--Lord
Stratford de Redcliffe--Signor Roco Vido--His apartment--Importance
of a good dinner--Lord Stratford’s diplomatic banquet
postponed--Probable consequences--Quotation from the _Gastronomic
Regenerator_.
The rays of the sun on that showery March day assumed, towards five
p.m., in the regions of the West, a most brilliant aspect. The vaporous
edges of the humid clouds seemed gilded with vermilion and silver tints.
The floods of light, like living fire, fell upon the rich masses of the
domes of various mosques, and hundreds of pointed and slender minarets.
While gazing in loneliness and contemplation, from the terrace of the
Hôtel des Ambassadeurs, at this charming spot in the East, to which the
beautiful mirage of an Oriental sunset lent an indescribable charm, a
shrieking voice was heard from the lower terrace, saying, “Il signor, la
table d’outre est servi! et il se refroidit fortement! La soupe il étoit
tout à fait déménagée of the tureen!” Looking over the railing, I
perceived the interpreter of the hotel, who was unfortunately the
possessor of several tongues, addressing himself to me. He, no doubt,
meant to imply that the table-d’hôte had been served, and the soup
already removed from the table. This _olla podrida_ of languages having
produced no effect upon my mind, half an hour after, the son of the
hotel-keeper made his appearance, who, though speaking French like
certain horned beasts in Spain, clearly gave me to understand that I was
too late for dinner. Taking advantage of his unexpected visit, I
inquired, looking towards the arsenal, “What part of the metropolis is
that opening near us?”
“Le Petit Champ des Morts, or the Small Field of the Dead,--so-called,
though nearly two miles in circumference, which is now so full that no
further interments are allowed within its area,”--he replied.
By the aid of an opera-glass, I plainly distinguished beneath us a large
pile of irregular stones, encircled by a railing. I, at first sight,
took this for the ruins of a kind of hippodrome which might have
succumbed to an earthquake, each stone having lost its perpendicular, as
though purposely to mock its fellow, and not making the slightest
attempt to perpetuate the grandeur of their solemn mission. Horses,
mules, and donkeys, were seen dragging loads of large planks to and fro,
six or eight on either side. The ends of the planks kept cutting rather
deep zig-zags into the soft ground, and were continually catching
against tombstones. The whole formed a kind of gigantic American
bagatelle board, where, when the ball is violently thrown to the top, it
descends by degrees, catching the points in every direction in its way
down. Next to it music was heard. Boys were romping, some playing with
marbles, or five para pieces, making use of the stones for their point
of departure. Lemonade, cakes, raki, and variegated bonbons, oranges,
lemons, &c., were briskly purchased by the promenaders, who, amongst
this _cohue-bohue_ of industry, were seen gaily crossing and recrossing
the green paths. Some reclined against the grave-stones, forming, as it
were, an arm-chair. Amongst them, however, were but few Mussulmans, some
turning Dervishes and Howlers, Greeks, Armenians, French, Perotes,
Smyrniotes, and here and there gazing with astonishing disapprobation,
some of the children of Albion. All excepting the latter might be seen
gaily fluttering from tombstone to tombstone, like busy bees from flower
to flower, in a perfumed pasture in summer. Here and there clumps of
cypress trees looked like the mournful guardians of this desecrated
spot. Some of the marble stones are still vividly stained with the blood
of the haughty and rebellious Janissaries, whose crumbling bodies lay
beneath. Such is the pious veneration of the Oriental population for the
remains of their ancestors in the Petit Champ des Morts at Pera.
The principal buildings which grace this foreign quarter are the
English, French, Austrian, Russian, Sardinian, and Prussian embassies.
The former, called the Palais d’Angleterre, now the residence of Lord
Stratford de Redcliffe, interested me most, as I was in duty bound to
pay my humble respects to his lordship and her ladyship the next
morning. It brought to my mind from a distance the celebrated building
of the Reform Club, which gave Barry his high reputation as an
architect, and where your humble servant passed above two lustres of his
culinary career.
While the new moon was faintly shining through transparent clouds, the
hundred minarets of Stamboul and its vicinity had been illuminated for a
festival, and their fiery collarettes à la Vandyke proudly carried those
rings of diamonds high towards the heavenly sphere. Eight o’clock was
striking at the Catholic church of Saint Mary. All was darkness and
silence. Hastily retiring to my bed-room, perfectly satisfied with
having fed my mind, although I had probably neglected internal
restoration, I soon fell into a most profound slumber, in which I saw
nothing but churchyards, clumps of cypress trees, mosques, and
illuminated minarets, till I awoke at daybreak.
My wandering mind having fluttered all night about the Oriental
metropolis, I was not in the slightest degree surprised to find myself
in the morning in the land which had given birth to the _Arabian
Nights_. The sound of a cracked bell was heard from the bottom of the
staircase, inviting each traveller to his morning meal. There was a
goodly number present, and we sat down about thirty-five. The majority
were military men, of various ranks, mostly French and English. Some
expressed their regret at my absence the previous evening, fancying--so
much for imagination--the dinner would have been more choice had the
landlord been personally acquainted with me. At all events, the
breakfast-table was well supplied, and I made a hearty meal, amidst the
buzzing of various languages.
As it was nearly eleven o’clock by the time I had finished, I started
for the Embassy, and after about twenty minutes of most laborious
gymnastic exercise over the ill-paved Rue (Ruelle it should be called)
de Pera, I entered the small wooden gate at the grand entrance of the
Palais d’Angleterre, which is majestically located in a fine open space
of ground, encircled by a large terrace, with parterres of shrubs and
high trees, from which spot a most favourable view of the rich mass of
building around is obtained. Modest grandeur, boldness, and simplicity
of execution, seem to have been the architect’s sole ambition. I shall
probably, in another chapter, describe the beauty and comfort of its
interior. The porter having taken my card, I was immediately shown into
the library. A few moments spent in this sanctuary of belles lettres
afforded me a fair opportunity of closely examining a very excellent and
well-executed painting, the style of which assured me that it was a good
portrait of his Sublime Majesty, the present Sultan, Abdul Medjid. Ten
minutes had scarcely elapsed, when Lady Stratford entered, and addressed
me in French, with a smile of welcome difficult to forget. “Well,
Monsieur Soyer, we heard of your departure from England for the East.”
“No doubt you did, my lady.”
“And I sincerely hope that you will succeed in your laudable
undertaking. I have no doubt your suggestions will prove highly
beneficial, and be well received by the authorities at the various
hospitals, which, in your department, are much in want of some kind of
regulation. I also hope that the Minister-at-War has invested you with
power to act according to your own judgment.”
“I am happy to inform your ladyship,” said I, “that her Majesty’s
Government has not only granted me the power required to superintend
and, if possible, improve the diet at the Hospital, but have also
honoured me with their full confidence as regards ordering anything
extra which may be required, so long as it tends to the comfort of the
sick.’
“Well, I am very happy to hear that such is the case,” replied her
ladyship; “for without such power your services would not have been so
effective.”
“I can assure your ladyship that I would not have undertaken this task
if such powers had not been granted to me by Lord Panmure. I was well
aware of the numerous difficulties I should meet with, which are almost
unavoidable in every kind of administration. But so highly do I
appreciate the honour conferred upon me, that, far from taking advantage
of the unlimited confidence reposed in me, it will be my pride to try
and make all my contemplated improvements with the present governmental
allowance; and I have no doubt that in time, by judicious organization
and good management, as well as by using everything to the best
advantage, I shall economize, instead of increasing the expense to the
nation. Having heard that your ladyship has, from the commencement of
this serious war, devoted the best part of your time to the various
hospitals, in watching over the sick and wounded, I shall esteem it a
great favour if you will direct me how to act, in order to insure prompt
success, and what articles of diet are most required for the patients.”
“It will afford me great pleasure, Monsieur Soyer, to give you the
principal information; but Signor Roco Vido, my head manager and cook,
will furnish the details, as he daily prepares large quantities of
comforts,--such as beef-tea, mutton and chicken broth, calves’-foot
jelly, &c., &c.,--and distributes them himself at the Barrack and
General Hospitals, also at Hyder Pacha, where the officers are.”
“Indeed, my lady. Such information from Signor Roco would be invaluable
to me.”
“Very well; I will send for him.”
“I beg your ladyship’s pardon, but I always understood that the
hospitals were on the other side the Bosphorus.”
“Yes, Monsieur Soyer, the great military ones are; but as at the
beginning of the campaign, after the battle of the Alma, none of them
had extra diet kitchens, we prepare food here and send it over.”
“I understand that the Bosphorus is sometimes so rough that no one can
cross it.”
“Such is the case; but we have a good-sized caique, and I can assure you
that, although it is so very dangerous, it has never missed going one
day; and since the battle of Inkermann, it often goes to Kululee, where
we have opened another hospital, nearly three miles from this. Before
you see Signor Roco, if you will follow me, I will inquire whether Lord
Stratford is disengaged, as I have no doubt he will be pleased to see
you.”
“I am your ladyship’s most humble servant,” was my reply.
After walking over the best part of the grand square gallery, and
crossing before the magnificent marble hall and gigantic staircase, we
ascended to a loftier story. A gentle tap at the door gained us
admittance to the sanctuary of high diplomacy. A plain screen was all
the furniture to be seen. A few words from her ladyship soon brought me
in communication with his Excellency, who, though much engaged (being
surrounded by mountains of official papers), received me in a most
cheerful and friendly manner. After I had said a few words relative to
the mission entrusted to me by the British Government, and her ladyship
had briefly narrated our former conversation, Lord Stratford kindly
expressed the pleasure it would give him to hear of my success in that
important department. “A good diet,” said Lady Stratford, “being of
paramount importance to every one in a state of debility. Monsieur
Soyer,” continued her ladyship, “also wishes to see Roco, to learn from
him, as he has now had several months’ practice making various aliments
for the patients, what kinds are most in request by the doctors.”
“No doubt,” Lord Redcliffe replied, “Roco will be happy to give you all
the information you may require upon the subject. He is a very good man,
and exerts himself to the utmost for the hospitals.”
Lord Stratford again expressed his good wishes and promises of kind
support, whereupon her ladyship and your humble servant retired. The
ambassadress then ordered the footman in waiting to conduct me to
Signor Roco’s apartment; expressing her desire to meet me with him the
next day at the Kululee and Scutari hospitals. I promised to attend at
those places on the following morning, and took my leave.
A walk through the gallery and corridor of that noble mansion brought us
to Signor Roco Vido’s door. An indication on the outside apprised me
that my cicerone was a child of _la belle Italie_, which at first caused
me some fear lest this should create impediments and delay in our
business transactions, as I only understood the language of the Italian
opera. A few words from the footman soon brought me in amicable contact
with the major-domo of the Palais d’Angleterre, who spoke excellent
English, and, like his illustrious master, was surrounded by archives,
but only of culinary and household affairs. The contents of these,
though not so important to the world, were nearly as substantial, more
especially the bill of fare, which in itself is capable of influencing
any diplomatic subject. A good one gratifies the stomach and soothes the
brain, which is necessarily influenced by the quality, succulence, and
scientific preparation of the aliments imparted to the first organ.
Such was the important office entrusted to the guidance of Signor Roco
Vido. And who can say, after all, that the late destructive war was not
partly, or even entirely, caused by a dinner? Did not the French
revolution of ‘48 emanate from a banquet? and upon this occasion, 1854,
six years after, a most unaccountable gastronomic event occurred. Lord
Stratford de Redcliffe, on his return to Constantinople as
plenipotentiary, had for the first time invited his Excellency Prince
Menschikoff to a grand diplomatic dinner, where all the representatives
of the then united Courts were to assemble. The day was fixed for the
21st of March, 1854, and the invitations were cordially accepted, most
especially by the representative of the Czar; he being, no doubt,
anxious to read upon the brow of the diplomatist the political feeling
of his nation. That very day, towards noon, the Sultan’s mother died. In
the morning she had written a letter to his Excellency, expressive of
her full confidence that he would study the future welfare of her son in
his relations with the British Government. On account of this mournful
event, and with a most profound feeling of respect and veneration for
the Imperial mourner, the dinner was postponed for a week; and while the
dark veil was laid over the banqueting-table, and the black seal was set
upon the _batterie de cuisine_, and numerous _bouches à feu de
l’Ambassade britannique_, his Excellency Prince Menschikoff was on board
a Russian man-of-war anchored at the mouth of the Black Sea, waiting
with all the dignity and defiance imaginable for the determination of
peace or war. The diplomatic banquet never took place! the war did!
I consider a postponed diplomatic dinner to be an universal calamity,
especially when only a few hours’ notice of the postponement is given;
and I cannot but quote the _Gastronomic Regenerator_, page 342,
published in the year 1842, in which I say--
“Rien ne dispose mieux l’esprit humain à des transactions amicales qu’un
dîner bien conçu et artistement préparé. Lisez l’histoire, et vous y
trouverez que, dans tous les temps et chez tous les peuples, le bien qui
s’est fait, et quelquefois le mal, fut toujours précédé ou suivi d’un
copieux dîner.”
_Translation._--“Nothing can prepare the human mind for amicable
intercourse better than a well-conceived and artistically-prepared
dinner. Read history, and you will ascertain that at all periods, and
amongst all nations, the benefits, and sometimes the evils, they
experienced, were either preceded or followed by a good dinner.”
CHAPTER VIII.
FIRST VIEW OF THE SCENE OF ACTION.
Cordial reception--Table-d’hôte--Absence of the fair sex--Warlike
sentiments--Toasts--Scene at the Tophané landing-place--A chorus of
boatmen--Caiques and caidjees--Romantic illusions
dispelled--Crossing the Bosphorus--The Barrack Hospital--Lord
William Paulet--Warm welcome--Dr. Cumming’s apartment--Plans
discussed--Melancholy sights--Return to Pera--Another conversation
with Signor Roco Vido--Articles supplied by him to the
hospitals--Wounded Russians--Origin of the hospital--An
appointment.
The same day, I despatched one of my men to the Barrack Hospital at
Scutari, to inform Lord William Paulet--at that period Brigadier-General
of the British army--of my arrival at Constantinople, and to inquire at
what hour his lordship would favour me with an interview. Upon my return
from the Palais d’Angleterre, I found that my man Julian had arrived
from Scutari, much, pleased with his lordship’s reception, but terribly
frightened by his passage _en caïque_ across the Bosphorus, which that
day was so rough that all his clothes were wet through. “The caidjee
would not take me there and back for less than five shillings,” said he.
“Well, never mind that, so long as you have seen his lordship and are
safe upon _terra firma_.”
“I must tell you, sir, that upon announcing your arrival, his lordship
seemed very much pleased, and observed, ‘So Monsieur Soyer has arrived!
Where is he?’ ‘At Pera, my lord, at the Hôtel des Ambassadeurs.’ ‘I had
the pleasure of knowing M. Soyer,’ said his lordship, ‘when he came to
Ireland in the year of the famine. Tell him I shall be happy to see him
any time to-morrow between the hours of nine and four.’ ‘Thank you, my
lord. I shall not fail to acquaint M. Soyer of the kind reception you
have given me on his behalf.’”
Highly gratified at the kind reception I had received from Lord and Lady
Stratford de Redcliffe, and fixing my visit to Lord William Paulet for
nine or ten the next morning, I then visited General Cannon at
Messerie’s Hotel, to inform him of the progress I was making, and to
tell him that all appeared encouraging. I felt it my duty to do this, as
he and all the officers on board the _Simois_ expressed considerable
interest in my undertaking. As General Cannon was out, I had the
pleasure of seeing his aide-de-camp, Captain Harbuckle, who promised to
inform the General of the subject of my visit. On inquiring for Mr.
Messerie, I found him busily engaged in the entrance-hall. He took me to
his private room, and we had a long conversation. He very kindly gave me
much valuable information respecting the products of the country, which,
he stated, differed much from those found in the English markets in
quality, though little in price, as all kinds of provisions had risen to
double, and in some cases triple, what they were before the commencement
of the war.
“That,” I answered, “could not fail to be the case, considering the
immense influx of troops daily arriving at Constantinople.”
“Any information or assistance you may require, Monsieur, I shall, as a
_confrère_, be happy to give you, and will also endeavour to render
myself useful as well as agreeable.”
I promised to pay him a visit now and then when I came to Pera, and we
parted. It would be difficult for any one to imagine the immense number
of persons who daily went in and out of this large hotel. The spacious
hall was crowded with baggage. In fact, there is but one hotel in Pera,
or we might say in Constantinople, and that is the one.
I next called at the “Hôtel de l’Europe,” to see Captain Ponsonby and
Colonel St. George. I found they had just before left, with the
intention of dining at the table-d’hôte at the “Hôtel des Ambassadeurs.”
Upon my arrival there, I found a number of my fellow-travellers, all
come, as they said, in expectation of finding a better dinner than at
their hotel, in consequence of my being there. We certainly had a very
tolerable dinner, which stamped for a time the reputation of the hotel
for having one of the best tables-d’hôte in Constantinople. The room was
very spacious and lofty, the table well laid out, ornamented with
numerous fine bouquets of flowers, and lighted with wax lights. We sat
down about forty, principally military men.
Over glasses of Greek champagne and Bordeaux wine, several laughable
anecdotes relating to our voyage were told. Expressions of admiration at
the view of the Moslem city from the Bosphorus--of disappointment at the
disenchantment experienced on landing--were freely uttered. In fact, we
all seemed to enter upon our campaign with most flourishing prospects;
but we could not help remarking, and feeling at heart, the want of
ladies at our board. Not one adorned our festival. This gave us a sad
_prestige_ of the deprivation of female society we should be condemned
to in the Crimea. Such was to be our fate throughout the campaign. At
the time, none seemed to feel the loss of those they loved or had loved
so dearly. No; all were for war! war! and glory at any risk. Bloodshed,
epidemics, destruction, loss of life, &c., were matters of little
moment. The very air we breathed seemed to smell of powder. All these
horrors had steeled men’s hearts, and in so doing, seemed to have
banished all rational feeling for home. Men seldom thought of their
wives and families, or at least never spoke of them; and if a young and
tender-hearted warrior did think of his anticipated fair companion or
_fiancée_, he dared not talk of her--every one would have laughed at
him.
In spite of this, one member of the fair sisterhood, and the ornament of
her sex, was not forgotten; and when the health of Victoria, Queen of
England, was proposed by a French Colonel, the shouts and hurrahs it
elicited did not cease for many minutes. Why such enthusiasm? Believe
me, it was not in honour of her Majesty’s sex. No! it was an
acknowledgment of the martial glory of the country; for, a few minutes
after, the same sentiment was expressed for the Emperor of France; and
again, for the union and alliance of the three nations. This proceeding,
instead of opening the heart to feelings of love, and of calling forth
the last sentiment of the kind which might have lingered there, aroused
a sterner inspiration. Such are what I call the calamities, if not the
horrors, of war; where all is destruction, and humanity is rendered
inhuman. This was the prevailing feeling of about forty well-bred and
brave military men--fifteen of whom were French, and the remainder
Englishmen--sitting at the table-d’hôte of the “Hôtel des Ambassadeurs,”
at Pera, on the 20th of March, 1854. Of that company, nearly a third, a
few months after, had sacrificed their lives for the glory of their
country.
The next morning, at half-past eight, I went with my dragoman to the
horrid Tophané landing-place. There I was surrounded by at least twenty
caidjees, who added to the disagreeables of this spot an evil of which I
was not aware at my first visit. Just fancy twenty Turks screaming out
their to me unknown language, and performing, at the same time, a
peculiar pantomime with their fists so close to your visage, you might
almost fancy they were telling you that, if you dared to take any other
caique than theirs, they would punch your head for you, or throw you
into the Bosphorus. In such a scene of noise and confusion, it is
almost, if not altogether, impossible for one to make up one’s mind
whether one requires one caique or several. The mistake occurs in this,
that they offer you a caique with one, two, or three caidjees.
As the Bosphorus was very rough, my man hired a craft with three pair of
oars--the two and three-oared boats being the only ones that went out
that day--the small caiques with one pair of oars seldom venturing out
in such weather. We soon stepped into the boat; and, to my delight, we
had no sooner set foot in the one we had selected, than, as if by a
magic spell, every tongue was silent. About two minutes after, just as
we were pushing off, two English officers made their appearance, and
experienced more trouble than I had done, as I had with me a man who
spoke their language. We got afloat quickly enough, and the short
spiteful waves constantly dashed in our faces, and rocked us about in
all directions. To my astonishment, the rowers took quite a different
direction to the Barrack Hospital, which appeared to me close at hand.
On making a remark to this effect to my dragoman, he told me the current
was so strong that they were obliged to fetch up a long way to avoid
being dashed against the Seraglio Point, or the chains and hawsers of
the vessels at anchor. “Oh, thank you,” said I, “let them go as many
miles round as they please, especially as I have till four o’clock to
see his lordship.”
After a long pull we came close to the Tour de la Jeune Fille, and I
told my man Auguste to inquire respecting the truth of the tale narrated
in a previous chapter. The only reply he could get from the three
caidjees respecting this wonderful story was, that they knew of no young
maiden who dwelt there; but that, on the contrary, an old Armenian
woman, in summer time, sold bad coffee and worse tobacco. A few weeks
afterwards the _café_ was opened, and, instead of _la jeune fille_,
there was an obesity of about sixty years old--_coiffée à la
grecque_--fresh flowers ornamenting the remains of what, no doubt, was
once a fine head of hair.
The current here is so strong and rapid, that the waves inundate the
best part of the tower. Auguste told me this place was at all times the
most dangerous, and that in bad weather a single-oared caique could not
cross near it. A few minutes after, under shelter of the high Scutari
banks and out of the current, we were, comparatively speaking, in smooth
water. But our poor caidjees were in a violent perspiration, though the
weather was rather cold, and paused to take breath. It took us above an
hour to cross, though you could see the hospital close at hand at
starting. At last we arrived at the landing-place, which, thanks to the
English, was far better than the Tophané one.
The hospital being on an elevated spot, and not more than a thousand
yards distant, appeared three times as large as it did from the deck of
the _Simois_; and here again, at sight of such a gigantic establishment,
my courage failed me, and for the second time I regretted having
undertaken such a difficult task. I immediately went to the grand
hospital entrance, the residence of Lord W. Paulet, thanking my stars
that I had the honour of being known to him. I was shown the general’s
quarters, and sent in my card. I was desired to follow, and had no
sooner entered, than his lordship came to meet me, and shook hands
cordially.
“Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “we have not had the pleasure of meeting
since 1847, when I saw you in Dublin,--the year of the famine in
Ireland.”
These words recalled the scene to my mind.
“I was at the Royal Barracks, with the Duke of Cambridge, when you
opened your kitchen in the Barrack Square--in fact, before our window.
The Duke and myself paid you a visit the day the Lord-Lieutenant opened
it. You had nearly a thousand visitors that morning, and fed between
four and five thousand poor people in the course of the day. The samples
of food prepared by you were excellent, though made at such a moderate
price, I assure you,” his lordship continued, speaking to some gentlemen
present, one of whom knew me while at the Reform Club.
“Indeed, my lord, you give me much pleasure by recalling reminiscences
of my success at that period; and I accept the same as a good omen for
my present undertaking, especially when taken in connexion with your
valuable support.”
“Monsieur Soyer, you may depend upon my support; but I tell you
beforehand, you will have no end of difficulties.”
“Well, my lord, with your support, a good will, and perseverance, I have
no doubt of doing some good.” I then presented Lord Panmure’s letter
respecting my mission. While his lordship was reading it, I was asked by
several officers present, “What are you sent out for?” Lord William
Paulet, overhearing them, replied, “To set us to rights in our kitchen
department, to be sure. This letter from the Minister-at-War shall be
closely attended to, Monsieur Soyer, and I will this day give orders to
that effect.”
From this I understood that Lord Panmure had given instructions for
everything I might require.
“Well,” said his lordship, “how many cooks have you brought with you?”
“Four, my lord.”
“Only four! I thought you would want many more than that. However, let
me know what you require. You are staying at Pera?”
“Yes; but I intend coming over to-morrow, to make a beginning.”
“I must get you a house in town; we are so full here, we have no room to
spare.”
“I’m not sorry for that--it will be a change of air--though I shall
require a small room in the hospital.”
“We’ll see about that--but tell me, of how many does your staff
consist?”
“About seven or eight.”
“I’ll try and get you a house to yourself.”
“Many thanks, my lord. I assure you that the kind reception accorded to
me will never be forgotten by your humble servant. In order that no time
may be lost--and I am aware that your lordship’s is highly
valuable--will you kindly instruct some one to show me Dr. Cumming’s
apartment, as I have a letter of introduction to that gentleman from Dr.
Andrew Smith; and I am anxious to confer with the Doctor upon the
subject of the new diets, and submit them for his special approval.”
His lordship then directed Dr. Rutherford to show me to Dr. Cumming’s
office, which we reached through a long corridor lined with beds on
either side, and occupied by sick and wounded. The apartment was full of
persons waiting to see the doctor. On sending in my card I was
immediately admitted, and very politely received. Dr. Cumming was, of
course, full of business. He read the letter from Dr. A. Smith, and then
said, “Monsieur Soyer, you may depend upon it that I will do all in my
power to assist you.”
I then stated my plan of commencing with a hundred patients, of which,
he highly approved. “The next thing,” I observed, “will be to find a
suitable place for a kitchen.”
“I think,” said he, “the General Hospital will be the best to begin at,
as it has always been used as an hospital. You will find everything more
appropriate there.” I expressed a great desire to commence with the
Barrack Hospital, to which Dr. Cumming immediately consented.
“Dr. Rutherford, you will perhaps be kind enough to show Mr. Soyer over
the hospital, and assist him in selecting a suitable spot to commence
operations.” Doctor Cumming again repeated his promise of giving me
every support, and said, “You know my office, and I shall at all times
be glad to see you upon matters of business.”
“You may depend upon it, Doctor, that I shall only trouble you with
indispensable matters, and such with which it is most important you
should be acquainted.”
We then parted. The Doctor and myself walke
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