THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE’S HEAD-QUARTERS PRIOR TO THE BATTLE OF INKERMANN.

THE DAWN OF INKERMANN.
THE DAWN OF INKERMANN.

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS’S quarters were situate about one hundred and thirty yards to the left of the windmill on the Woronzoff Road. Five parallel bell-tents were occupied—one by the duke, the others by Colonel Macdonald, Colonel Tyrwhitt, Major Clifton, and Dr. Gibson, his staff. M. Comte, chef de cuisine to the duke, and to whose devotion to all who came in his way and needed help while in the Crimea I before have had in this work occasion to allude, has since related to me that on the morning of the Battle of Inkermann he got up at three o’clock, the weather being chilly and damp and a thick heavy fog surrounding the camp, and having lit his fire he made himself some tea, when, about five, as he was quietly smoking his pipe À la bivouacaire, within range of the fire (of his open-air battery) the duke came up to him, exclaiming, “Halloo! M. Comte, you are about early this morning.”

“Yes, your Highness,” he replied; “the fact is, the weather is so cold and damp, that for the life of me I could not sleep, therefore I turned out and made myself a cup of tea.”

“You are right,” said the duke, warming his feet by the fire; “the weather is truly wretched.”

Hardly had the duke said these words, than several volleys of musketry and loud shouts reverberated through the camp, something like the growls of thousands of wild animals. Leaving no doubt that it was an attack of the enemy, the duke immediately left me and ran for his horse, and was soon mounted, and started alone towards the scene of action; a few minutes after, his staff followed in the wake of their gallant leader. So sudden was his departure, that, having made a bowl of tea which I had intended for him, though I ran after him with it in my hand, his Highness started without partaking of it. Not till five o’clock in the evening did the duke return, his horse wounded, and a bullet having passed through his coat-sleeve without injuring him. Major Clifton had been wounded in the cheek during the battle, and came back to quarters during the day to have his wound dressed by Dr. Gibson. On returning once more to the field of battle, he had his horse shot under him. When he again returned he was seen carrying the saddle of his defunct animal on his back. At the return of the staff in the evening, the outside of the duke’s head-quarters had the appearance of a field hospital, M. Comte having taken on himself to supply refreshment to all the wounded who were brought to his nursing care. I have heard that no less than six or seven hundred had been supplied with succour in the course of two or three days by his Highness’s faithful chef de cuisine.

On the 11th of the same month, and while the duke was staying on board the Resolution, in the harbour of Balaklava, our heroic chef de cuisine was ordered to remain in possession of the commandant’s house in Balaklava, awaiting the return of his royal master, and also having under his charge no less than fifteen female prisoners of war, whom he was charged by the authorities to watch over with the aid of sentries, as it was thought that these female Amazons might fire Balaklava. Amongst them was the Governor’s wife and children. All the men being ordered out of the establishment, the Governor’s lady, with a smile on her lips, in very good French, inquired of M. Comte if two gentlemen present would be allowed to remain, which favour, after serious consideration on the part of the new Governor pro tem., was granted, these gentlemen being of the advanced ages respectively of three and five years. “Never did I feel a greater relief,” said M. Comte, “than when these lady prisoners were taken out of my charge, as each day discovered some fresh attempts at conspiracy.” It was during the governorship of this semi-warrior that the dreadful storm took place in the Bay of Balaklava, and uprooted the beautiful avenue of poplar trees which ornamented his capital, and which, to his sorrow, much disfigured the prettiest part of his dominions.

On a previous occasion, just after landing, before the battle of the Alma, this indefatigable culinary artist, who by the bye is an old traveller, was seen, under a heavy shower of rain, cooking beneath the wings of an open umbrella, preparing a dish of fried croquettes, at a time when the duke himself did not anticipate such a delicacy. The umbrella was used to stop the rain falling in the pan, which would have prevented the completion of this dainty dish, water and fat being irreconcilable foes.

A STORM IN A FRYING-PAN.
A STORM IN A FRYING-PAN.

Early the following morning an alarm took place, when our warrior-cook deserted his umbrella, and shouldered his gun in his right as commander-in-chief of his own battery (de cuisine). The moon was faintly shining, and with its rays appeared the duke, who indistinctly seeing some one, exclaimed, “Who’s there?” when M. Comte replied, “It is me, your Highness. Having heard the alarm, I considered your tent and my battery could not be too well guarded, so I have just taken up this musket to be on the defensive.” The duke replied, “Really, Comte, vous Êtes impayable;” and immediately started with his staff to the supposed scene of action. After a few hours everything was restored to order, when Comte grounded arms, inspected his battery, and had breakfast ready to the minute as usual.

THE CULINARY SENTRY.
THE CULINARY SENTRY.

A VISIT TO THE SULTAN’S NEW PALACE OF DOLMA BATCHI.

In the month of March, 1856, I was fortunate enough to obtain an order, which I procured by great favour, to visit this huge pile of marble, prior to its final completion and occupation by his Majesty the Sultan and his harem; and although many parts of it were open to the public by ticket, yet very few visitors could boast of having seen so much of the interior as myself of this stupendous and most elegant area, where the modern houri of Mahomet were shortly to be located, they at this time still remaining in the old palace on the Bosphorus. The large room preparing for the reception of the Sultan’s favourites had but very little moveable furniture, but at the same time was most elegantly decorated. Nothing but couches were placed round the room, while the flooring was of highly-polished wood of a most tasty design; the whole of the hangings and coverings were of a rich satin of a lavender colour, with a large flowery pattern; twenty chandeliers, of immense dimensions—about seven feet in height—sprang from the ground, proudly bearing each more than one hundred wax-lights. The wall was after the Oriental fashion, which I do not much admire, here and there painted al fresco, representing various views of either landscape, colonnades, palaces, &c. In spite of this defect, the effect was so peculiar at the first glance, that it produced on me a most extraordinary sensation. To my surprise I found the ceiling remarkably low, but which I found, on consideration, would not appear so to its future innumerable tenants, from their habit of squatting on the floor. The effect of the light on this apartment had been tried two nights before, and the ends of the wax-lights still remained in the sockets of the chandeliers, and which, when lit, must have had a most extraordinary effect. Here for the first time I had an uninterrupted view from the interior of a harem, through the latticed windows, which are now made on an improved principle to the old Turkish style, which give you more than ever an opportunity to see from the inside without being seen, the exterior of which is also painted with views of landscapes, which are visible from the Bosphorus. At the further end of this stupendous kind of drawing-room were several apartments for the favourites, most gorgeously decorated by valuable Oriental tapestry, hanging curtains, ottomans, &c. Next I was shown a narrow corridor with three doors; I learned that these were the penitential cells for any of the naughty beauties who might need correction; however, the dungeons did not bear a very dreadful aspect. From here we went to the Sultan’s bedroom, which was gorgeously decorated with deep golden fringe and crimson velvet hangings of the richest description; the decorations of this room are almost indescribable. We then visited another room, called the Sultan’s Cabinet de Travail, where I was much struck to see it entirely fitted up in the European style, quite À la FranÇaise, after the style of Louis XV. Upon inquiring of my ciceroni, I learned that the whole of the furniture of the apartment had been presented to the Sultan by the Emperor of the French, Napoleon III., and I must say that the quiet, though superb, manner in which it was fitted was a most pleasant relief to me after wandering through so many gaudy and superfluously grand apartments. The Sultan had already occupied himself in this room. The carpet and table were covered with the finest red French cloth, while the ceiling was of a good elevation; in fact, the Tuileries (which I have lately visited) cannot boast a more tasty or better fitted-up apartment. The staircase leading to the harem was very striking, the lantern at the summit being covered with paintings, representing windows with pots of flowers, vases, birds, &c.; yet the whole of these, though well painted, presented quite a theatrical aspect to the really charming appearance of the marble staircase. My guide had observed to me while in the Cabinet de Travail, that he never recollected any stranger entering it before; he then showed me the chef-d’oeuvres of the palace, which were the ladies’ baths—the most expensive and luxurious part of this costly palace, the bath being the greatest luxury of the Turks, the whole of them being inlaid with sapphire stone boldly carved. We then passed through the Throne Room, which I have already described in this work: it is a regular facsimile of St. Sophia, but more gaudy. We then walked through the Reception Room for the ambassadors, which is simply decorated with gold and white, in the European style. On turning to the left, we came to the grand crystal staircase with its thousand jets of red light. I then begged to be shown the kitchen, which request at first I perceived was objected to by my guide, who expressed himself that it was impossible; but being armed with formidable letters, and making use of M. Roco Vido’s name, who is well known to the Sultan’s grand hatchi batchi, or chief cook, I at length prevailed on him to induct me to this pandÆmonium of scientific handicraft, where between three and four hundred cooks were busily engaged manipulating the most recherchÉ dishes À la Turk, many of which I had the pleasure of tasting. The appearance and bustle of the kitchen, which was quite new to me, put me more in mind of a public market than what it really was; every man-cook was dressed in the Oriental fashion, all looking very clean. The copper vessels which they use are daily tinned—which fact I learnt from the Chef,—and shone like so much silver. The process of the Turkish cookery, though slow, I much approve of, as the succulence and aroma of every kind of food are retained, and it is far superior to our system, everything being cooked or stewed on the top of red-hot ashes laid on slabs of stone or marble. The floor of the kitchen was rather ill-paved, and the attendants were in the habit of strewing everything on the ground not wanted for use—an untidy trick. I could trace from the interior of this monster establishment no less than twenty huge shaft chimneys sprouting out from the roof of this gastronomic temple. It was now near twelve o’clock, when a shower of tray-bearers made their appearance in the kitchen, and with the greatest celerity were loaded with heaps of dishes belonging to the first, second, and third course. I ascertained on inquiry that these were for the dinners of the ladies of the harem. White snowy-looking cloths were thrown over each tray, and they were carried, to my astonishment, to the old palace on the Bosphorus, a distance of nearly half a mile, on the bearers’ heads,—the large kitchen at the latter place having been destroyed by fire, and the Sultan’s meals only being prepared there in a private kitchen, his Majesty always dining alone; which order was instituted by Mahomed II., the story being, that that monarch had so little confidence in those around him, that he always feared they would rob him of his food while carrying it from plate to mouth. Delighted with my visit, I deposited in my cicerone’s hands the golden key, in the shape of bakschish, with which I had so successfully opened the palace door of the Sublime Porte.

THE PARISIAN KITCHEN FOR THE WORKING-CLASSES, OR FOURNEANT DE L’IMPERATRICE

The kitchens for the working-classes are sixty-eight in number, each capable of supplying from one thousand to twelve hundred mechanics with good food, for which each one pays about two-thirds of the value received, although nothing is given gratuitously. They are attended by Sisters of Charity, and kept extremely clean, while the deficit is, I believe, made up by her Majesty the Empress and the municipality of Paris, from whom these institutions derive their name of Fourneant de l’ImpÉratrice. The provisions are supplied from the central market of Paris, the Halle au BlÉ, which is under the superintendence of the Comptroller-General, M. Durand, by whom I was treated with the greatest courtesy while drawing up the report I made to his Majesty by imperial command; and I much regret that want of space prevents my giving it at full length here, although the report had chiefly a local importance. Wagons take the different articles of food early in the morning to all the establishments. These are most useful institutions, and in case of a scarcity of food, provisions could always, at a trifling expense, be dressed here for the needy. Indeed, every metropolis, and all large mercantile towns, ought to follow this excellent example, which, I believe, owes its origin to England.

THE TRAVELLING GENTLEMEN OF THE CRIMEA.

I cannot pass without notice the following little anecdote, related to me by Colonel Carleton of the Coldstreams—the principal personage connected with it. The day after the battle of Inkermann (said the gallant colonel) the field was visited by many T. G.’s, some of them contorting their optics with eye-glasses, and taking a survey of the many dead on the field, near to the spot where he was busily engaged in paying the last duty to the remains of the defunct brave; whereupon he made inquiry of one of his men if the gentlemen were known who seemingly took such an interest in the awful spectacle. He then desired them to come to him, which request, with a kind smile, they soon obeyed; but much were they disappointed when, instead of addressing them in a friendly manner, the Colonel ordered them to take their coats off and shoulder a pick and dig graves, which disagreeable task they could not avoid, as discipline was the order of the day, though very disgusting the task to our curious and no doubt wealthy pleasure-hunters. They were, the Colonel afterwards ascertained, merchants from one of our great commercial cities. When trapped, it was morning; when they finished their task, it was night. Thus our amateur gravediggers had not only a hard day’s work, but a very unpleasant one in the bargain.

THE CONSUMPTION HOSPITAL, BROMPTON.
A Visit to the Kitchen, by Request.

While at the Reform Club, Captain Lyons, R.M., requested me to visit the kitchen of the above hospital, in the anticipation that I might be able to make some improvements in that department, if any should be requisite. The day following I went and found the place in the most perfect order, while all at once a stove of a very showy structure caught my eye, in which were placed eight or ten copper caldrons, well fixed in either iron or brick frames, each being labelled beef-tea, coffee, tea, &c. I could not but approve of the elegant appearance these utensils presented, but at the same time give my disapprobation of their having copper in use, while screwed down so tightly that but a small chance remained of their being properly tinned. In removing the lid, I remarked to the Captain that not the slightest particle of tin remained, and that therefore the cooking could not be done in any other but a highly dangerous manner. I then explained to the woman cook where the danger lay; when she quietly answered that there could be no danger, as she had each boiler cleansed two or three times a day; which of course was the root of the evil, having no doubt been the cause of the entire disappearance of the tin. In asking her how long it was since they were tinned, she replied,—“Not since she had been engaged there, nor, probably, since they had been fixed up;” when I explained to her the sad mistake in not having well tinned all such boilers, in large establishments such as this, where the utensils are in daily use, as they ought to be tinned at least once in every three months. I then made about a gallon of beef-tea with the hospital rations, in less than an hour, to which quick process she much objected, saying that she was certain the patients would not like it, as in that time it could not be thoroughly done, as she always stewed it for at least six or seven hours, by which time the meat was done to ribbons. I begged the Captain to allow several basins of my broth to be sent to the different wards to various patients, which was done, whom we afterwards visited. When the Captain inquired of one how he felt, he answered that he felt a great deal better that day, his taste having returned to him, which was a proof of the superiority of my plan over that of their cook’s—a system, I regret to say, practised in many large establishments. (For Beef-tea, see Hospital Diets.)