Alexis Soyer

Miss Nightingale dangerously ill—Her removal to the Sanatorium—Worst form of Crimean fever—General consternation—Conversation with the Captain—Better news—Visit the Sanatorium—Disembarkation of the Sardinians—Bridge over the London—Admiral Boxer—Act as interpreter—Overwhelmed with complaints—Soda-water for horses—All right at last—Alexandrian horse-flesh—A character—An interesting ride—The General Hospital—Reasons for my return to Turkey—Letters—Head-quarters again—Lord Raglan’s anxiety for Miss Nightingale—Return to Balaklava—Admiral Boxer and the Sardinians—All in the wrong—Quieted at last.

ALAS! how short are the moments in which real happiness favours us with its charms, and how quickly it deserts one in the midst of mirth and joy! On this eventful day, I was doomed to experience the truth of the saying that “sorrow treads upon the heels of joy;” for I had scarcely set my foot upon the deck of the London, when P. M. came and apprised me that Miss Nightingale was not expected to live. It appeared that after my departure she had a terrible attack of fever, and was obliged to be immediately removed to the hospital. On asking to which establishment this excellent lady had been taken, I was told the Sanatorium. P. M. continued, “Several doctors, Mr. and Mrs. Bracebridge, and myself, accompanied her there—I have only been back a few minutes.”

“Why did you not take her to the General Hospital? It was much nearer.”

“Don’t you know that cholera is raging there?”

“There certainly are a few cases. Do you think I can do anything for her?”

“No, I am sure you cannot; she is not allowed to take anything, and the doctors have forbidden any one to be admitted, except her private nurse, Mrs. Roberts.”

It was then getting late—Mr. Bracebridge had not returned. The captain and P. M. gave me a full account of this lamentable event. It appeared that about noon Miss Wear had come on board to see Miss Nightingale upon business. She found that lady very poorly, but thinking it was a slight indisposition, took no notice of it, more especially as Miss Nightingale did not complain in the least. About two, by the orders of Mrs. Roberts, they were obliged to send in a great hurry for a doctor. Mrs. Roberts stated that her mistress had been suddenly taken dangerously ill—that she was in fact attacked by the worst form of Crimean fever. The first thing ordered by the doctor was her instant removal to the hospital on the heights.

“So,” said the captain, who was relating this part of the sad history, “I set all my men to work. We got a stretcher from the hospital, and she was carried very carefully by my men and some soldiers sent by the governor.”

“I followed through Balaklava,” said P. M., “amidst a regular procession of soldiers, holding a white umbrella over her face. The crowd was so great, we could scarcely pass, and it took us nearly an hour to get up to the heights. I assure you, all Balaklava was in an uproar.”

“What do the doctors say of the case?”

“That the lady is dangerously ill, and that no one must go near her, not even Mr. Bracebridge.”

“What mournful tidings!” I said. “I should not be surprised if she caught the fever from the patient at Dr. Henderson’s. I warned her of the danger of exposing herself so much several times.”

“By-the-bye, where is Mr. Bracebridge?”

“I left him there.”

“Does he intend to come back, or stay where he is?”

“I don’t know, but I do not see what good he can do there.”

“I hope we shall hear better news when he returns.”

“Now, Mr. Soyer, tell us about your visit to head-quarters. Did you see Lord Raglan?”

“Certainly I did.”

“And how were you received?” asked the captain.

“Admirably,” I replied.

“I hear his lordship is a most amiable and kind man.”

“He is indeed, I assure you; and I cannot but express my gratitude for the reception he afforded me. I am certain he will be very sorry to hear of Miss Nightingale’s serious and sudden illness, for he inquired very kindly after her this morning.”

My companions made many more inquiries respecting the events of the day; but I had forgotten all, I was so absorbed by this unexpected blow. It seemed likely to upset all our plans. I spoke to the captain of the several visits Miss Nightingale had paid to the sick officer at Dr. Henderson’s at the time he was so dangerously ill, remarking upon her neglect of herself by going all day without refreshment, and braving all weathers. We could not help noticing how singular it appeared, that after her hard labours at Scutari, and escaping both the cholera and fevers which raged there, she should be so suddenly taken ill at Balaklava. It was indeed very melancholy and remarkable. At last Mr. Bracebridge returned. He informed us that Miss Nightingale was a little better, but that such a violent case of fever required a certain time. “Mrs. Roberts,” he continued, “is with her, and the boy to go for the doctor, in case he should be needed.”

“Poor boy!” said the captain, “how he cried when he saw his mistress carried upon a stretcher by soldiers!”

“Yes,” said Mr. Bracebridge, “he is a very affectionate lad.”

After a few questions about my visit to Lord Raglan, being all very much fagged, we retired for the night. Upon that occasion, owing to excessive fatigue and the absence of rats, which had at length been successfully turned out of my cabin without making use of my receipt, I enjoyed a comfortable night’s rest. The next morning, at eight precisely, Louis was at his post with the pony, of which I could not, however, make use, not knowing what alteration Miss Nightingale’s illness might cause at both hospitals, where, no doubt, my presence would be required. I sent Dr. Hall a note, apologizing for not waiting upon him that day, and postponing our visit to the day following, if agreeable to him. Louis promised to send me an answer at five o’clock by the doctor’s courier. No news had been received at the General Hospital from the Sanatorium; therefore Mr. Bracebridge and myself went up the first thing, instead of going to Mr. Upton, as we had previously arranged. On our arrival, the report was anything but favourable; and this seemed to paralyse all our energies. Indeed, for a few days no business of consequence was transacted. My kitchen at the Sanatorium alone progressed. I offered my services to Drs. Henderson and Hadley, in case I could be of use to Miss Nightingale. Dr. Henderson said, “I am the only cook she requires at present. We must wait nearly a week before I can leave her in your hands, even should her illness take a favourable turn.” I then begged of him to give me his private opinion of her state.

“She is suffering, I assure you, Monsieur Soyer, from as bad an attack of fever as I have seen; but I should say the chances are in her favour, because she does not fret in the slightest degree, but is perfectly composed.”

On calling at the General Hospital for Dr. Hall’s reply, I found that he had fixed the same time the next day for our visit. We then returned on board the London. Many inquiries respecting Miss Nightingale had been made by almost all the authorities, amongst whom were Sir John Macneil, Captain Tulloch, Admiral Boxer, the Governor, Commissary Filder, and Dr. Sutherland. The latter went at once to see her. Finding she had all proper attention, he came in the evening, and requested us to leave her as quiet as possible. He told Mr. Bracebridge on no account to go near her, not even if sent for, as any excitement might be fatal. This request was of course punctually attended to.

The remainder of the Sardinian army had now arrived. The disembarkation kept the harbour in a constant bustle, morning, noon, and night. It was, in fact, a real maritime bivouac, and our vessel very much resembled the famed metropolis from which it takes its name. During the night a strong bridge was built over it, communicating with the shore on the one side, and one of the Sardinian ships, which had been towed alongside, on the other. This was made for the purpose of landing men and horses. At five in the morning I was up and on deck, as from the noise it was impossible to sleep. The first person on board was Admiral Boxer, as busy as could be, giving his orders. On seeing me, he inquired about Miss Nightingale.

“What a good job,” said he, “they were able to remove her from here!”

“You are right, admiral. I perceive you are about to put the troops from one of the vessels on shore.”

“From one, say you? I am landing the whole of the Sardinian army, and some of our own troops besides.”

“At any rate, I think this is one of the greatest curiosities of the Crimean war.”

“Why?” asked the admiral, talking to twenty others at the time.

“Why, admiral, pray who would have thought of seeing while in the Crimea a Sardinian army cross London Bridge?”

“Ha! ha! ha! true enough; that’s not bad; singular things are seen and done in time of war. What do you think of their soldiers, Monsieur Soyer?”

“Fine fellows!”

“They are fine fellows. But I wish they spoke English—we should get on much quicker.”

“I’ll speak to them for you, if you like, admiral.”

“Ah, to be sure, so you can.”

I immediately set about acting as interpreter between the English admiral and the Sardinian captains. In his anxiety to get rid of them as quickly as possible, Admiral Boxer asked whether they had pretty much what they required; a question which brought about ten complainants on deck, who surrounded me. One had no hay, barley, or water for his horses. They all spoke at the same time, and made a hubbub which could only be feebly imitated at the Paris Stock Exchange.

“What’s all this row about? This will never do,” said the admiral. “Pray don’t tell them who I am, or they will bother my life out.”

“I have told them, and that’s why they are making such a row. I asked them, as you wished me, whether they had everything they wanted.”

“I said pretty much what they wanted.”

“I know you did, admiral, and so I told them; but they say they don’t know the meaning of that.”

“Tell them they are fine fellows—fine fellows, and that there is a beautiful camp ready for them, where they will find everything they require, without any drawback. I will send lots of men to wait upon them directly; but they must get out of the harbour before night.”

General della Marmora sent for the admiral; so he left me to settle the matter, which I did in a very few words.

“My dear fellows,” said I to them, “your valuable services will be much better appreciated by your sovereign and General-in-chief if you put up with a little inconvenience for the present, and remain quiet, than if, on the contrary, you are too particular.”

“Do you know, monsieur, that our horses have not had a drop of water to-day?”

“Colonel,” said I, “I am not at all surprised at that; and more, you must put up with it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Simply because you can’t get it, unless you like to do as I did yesterday—give them soda-water.”

“Do you mean to say there is no water at all in this grand vessel?”

“None, except soda-water.”

“Eh bien,” said another, “give de soda-water alors.”

“What, for the horses?”

“Oui, for the chevals!”

“Here, my man,” said I to one of the crew, “tell the steward to bring a dozen of soda-water for the colonel’s horse. Mind, colonel, it costs a shilling a bottle; but, as you are a good customer, and take a dozen, no doubt he will let you have it cheaper.”

“I will not pay a sou for this bubbling water. I know what you mean. It fizzes like champagne, but it is not good to drink. The horses will never touch it. I thought it was spring-water that you called soda-water.”

At all events, the soda-water was brought, to the great annoyance of the colonel, who thought he should have to pay for it; but I sent for some sherry and a few glasses, and we drank a bottle or two, instead of giving it to the horses, to the great gratification of the colonel, who, after partaking of it, said he liked it much better with sherry than brandy. About twenty banabaks soon after arrived with water in skins and leathern horse-buckets. The horses were properly watered; and thus ended the Sardinian revolt in the harbour of Balaklava, on the 14th of May, in the year 1855, beneath the ruins of the Genoese Tower and fortifications built by their ancestors.

The Sardinian troops and horses soon after crossed new London Bridge; by eight o’clock I was mounting my horse to go and meet Dr. Hall. The troops that had then landed were in full march towards their very picturesque camp at the top of the mountain; a band of music was playing at their head, and their artillery train and baggage-waggons followed. The weather was brilliant, and the heat of the sun intense. Louis was mounted upon a fine black horse, which the doctor had brought from Alexandria. Nobody but Louis could ride him, on account of his tricks. His appearance was worthy of the finest circus in the world for the performance of the high school of equitation. To this splendid animal Louis owed his reputation and popularity; and, as he lived at head-quarters, all the Staff knew him. It is hardly possible to describe his personal appearance. He was short in stature, with extraordinary large ears; his long moustaches, hair, and eyebrows were between the colour of a canary bird and that of the dun pony I was riding. His dress was of a similar colour, with the exception of his cap, which was, if possible, of an intenser yellow. This contrast of colours in an individual mounted upon such a splendid charger, caused him to be remarked by every one throughout the camp.

Our ride seemed very short, for Louis, who is a very clever fellow, was full of anecdote, and related some that were really very amusing. He spoke several languages, frequently mingling one with another. He spoke his own language, the French, worse than any other, he had been so long away from his native land. He was present at the battles of Alma, Balaklava, Inkermann, and the Tchernaya, where his charger was wounded close to the Traktir Bridge, he, as usual during an action, keeping in close attendance on his brave master, more especially if danger was imminent; and no better fate had he at the battle of Inkermann, where he was seriously wounded in the leg, and the traces of both wounds are, I regret to say, still apparent. On the eve of my departure from the seat of war, I, out of veneration for this once splendid charger, purchased him of his owner, who would probably have been obliged to abandon his faithful steed to the tender mercies of the hungry inhabitants, who, doubtless, had they got him in their clutches, would have given him a dressing À la Tartare, or perhaps converted his body into those suspicious articles of food, sausages. On his voyage home, in charge of a careful groom, Neptune had no more respect for this four-legged hero than for the commonest quadruped; for not only was he pitched, bit, and tossed about in all directions, but worse still, when the ship Clarendon arrived off Cadiz, she struck on a sunken rock, and the most valueless animals were thrown overboard; but “Inkermann,” with his usual luck, in spite of Mars and Neptune, escaped the plunge taken by his less fortunate companions, and is now in London, enjoying, as hitherto, his full feed, though in the profoundest retirement, having sold out of the army. Louis spoke very highly of his master, and never seemed to be pleased or displeased at anything—good news, bad, or indifferent, were all the same to him. If you said to him, “The weather is very bad,” he would answer, “I have nothing to do with that, no more than if it were fine.” On asking him, at our first interview, if he was a Frenchman, “Of course I am,” he replied; “all my family were Frenchmen.” I must say that, with all his eccentricity, he was very obliging; and I feel very grateful for the kind attentions he paid me, particularly during my serious illness, when he often visited me. Upon our arrival, the doctor’s horse was at the door, and his master soon made his appearance.

“Good morning, Doctor! I fear we are behind time.”

“I can always employ my time here,” said he, looking at his watch; “you are only a few minutes late.”

We then, started. Louis asked whether he was to accompany us; to which the doctor answered, “No: I expect Dr. Henderson from Balaklava, so be in the way; tell him we are gone to the General Hospital.”

During our ride, I told my companion about the Sardinian insurrection near our new London Bridge, which seemed to amuse him very much. He informed me that Miss Nightingale had passed a better night, but was far from being out of danger. The cannon of Sebastopol made a fearful noise.

“Have you seen Sebastopol yet, Monsieur Soyer?”

“Yes, I have, Doctor, and was rather close, too!” and I related our Nightingale campaign.

“To-day you will have another view, quite as good, though not so dangerous.”

We then began talking upon business, and I was speaking of my having visited the military and civil hospitals in France, when Dr. Henderson galloped after us, and a conversation ensued relative to the arrival of the armies, and the fact that many of the men had been attacked by fever, before their hospitals were ready. Dr. Hall decided upon a course of action, and we alighted at the General Hospital. The doctor, Mr. Mouatt, was unfortunately out, but was expected back shortly. Dr. Henderson left us, and I accompanied Dr. Hall round several huts. He visited all the worst cases, which were at that time very numerous. We then repaired to the kitchen, which, as I have before said, was far from being equal to the requirements of such an immense hospital. It was in the open air, and ill provided with things necessary for the establishment. Having pointed this out to Dr. Hall, he immediately agreed that one similar to that at the Sanatorium should be erected; but Dr. Mouatt was not present. The want of materials and of workmen was so great, that, previous to its erection, I was obliged to leave the Crimea and return to Scutari for a short time. My head man there had been taken ill, and his life was, as he thought, in great danger. Several times prior to my return he had threatened to run away, which would quite have upset all my former efforts.

I remained in the Crimea about ten days longer, and my reader will perceive that every minute of my time was occupied. I devoted some of it to the most important hospital of all—the one before Sebastopol; a plan for the improvement of which I immediately made and forwarded to the proper parties, so much was I impressed with the necessity of having a kitchen erected immediately. Fearing that I should be obliged to leave the Crimea for Scutari before it could be even commenced, the day after my visit I wrote two official letters, one to Lord Raglan, and the other to Dr. Hall. The General-in-chief and Dr. Hall had both visited the spot, and agreed with me that it was one of the most important hospitals in the East. It was situated under the very walls of Sebastopol, subject to a divided attack, or to a sortie, and might at any moment be suddenly encumbered with a large number of wounded, requiring a great quantity of nutritious articles, more particularly beverages, after any surgical operation. In reply I received the following communications:—

I also had several interviews with Dr. Mouatt, who took my suggestion during my absence in hand, but never apparently succeeded in carrying it out, although the materials requisite were simply planks, nails, and bricks.

I merely advert to the foregoing in answer to some observations that were wafted about the camp to the effect that I never took much trouble about this particular hospital, while in reality it was the very first which attracted my attention, as the above letters will convince my readers.

Upon our return from the hospital to head-quarters, I called at Colonel Steele’s. Lord Raglan was just going out, and the first question he asked, even before I had time to pay my respects, was—“How is poor Miss Nightingale?”

“A little better to-day. Dr. Henderson, whom I have just seen, says she has passed a better night.”

“Well, I hope she has; I shall pay her a visit as soon as possible—that is, when she is a little better. Was she ill at all at Scutari?”

“Not, my Lord, while I was there, and, I think, not before. It is rather remarkable that she should catch the Crimean fever just after her arrival.”

I told Lord Raglan of her imprudence in visiting a patient at Dr. Henderson’s, who had been attacked by the worst form of Crimean fever; also, of her remaining out so late, and not taking any refreshment.

“She appears,” said Lord Raglan, “to have no fear.”

“None whatever.”

I recounted her visit to the three-gun battery, and the scene that took place upon the centre mortar. Lord Raglan remarked—“It should be called the Nightingale mortar.”

He then jumped upon his horse, and I had but a few minutes to explain the result of my visit with Dr. Hall to the various hospitals. I mentioned that the most important thing was the immediate erection of a kitchen for the General Hospital, in case of a decided attack upon Sebastopol.

“Very true, Monsieur Soyer,” said Lord Raglan.

I stated that I had addressed a letter to his lordship to that effect.

“Yes, I have seen it, and it shall be attended to.”

Lord Raglan and his staff then started in the direction of the French head-quarters, and I towards Balaklava, where I arrived about dusk. I left my pony at the General Hospital, and walked to the opposite side of the harbour, which I had in the morning left all in confusion, and, to my astonishment, found quiet and almost deserted. The only person I saw was Admiral Boxer, who came and thanked me for the assistance I had given him in the morning.

“Don’t mention it, admiral,” said I; “I shall at all times be happy to do everything in my power to render myself agreeable to you. Pray tell me, where are they all gone?”

“To their camp, to be sure.”

“What—regiments, horses, and all?”

“Yes, the vessels alongside this morning have not only discharged their cargoes, but are, I believe, out of the harbour and anchored in the bay. We shall have two more in, which must be discharged to-morrow.”

“This silence is almost inconceivable after so much noise and bustle.”

“It is,” said the admiral. “I don’t understand those Sardinians, they speak so fast and loud; but they are fine fellows for all that, and no mistake.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth, when two Sardinians attached to the commissariat came towards us, and inquired whether we understood French or Italian. I informed them that I spoke French.

“Then, pray, sir, can you tell us where to find ce diable d’amiral Anglais?”

“What do they say?” asked Admiral Boxer, addressing me.

“Nothing particular,” I replied. “Gentlemen,” said I, turning to the Sardinians, “what could the admiral do for you? It is very probable that I shall have the pleasure of seeing him this evening.”

The one who had as yet scarcely spoken exclaimed—“A truce to the pleasure! I wish I could get hold of him, I would tell him my mind in a few words.”

“Pray be calm, gentlemen.”

All this time Admiral Boxer kept asking—“What do they say? They are speaking about me, I know they are. Tell them they are a fine set of fellows, and I will do anything for them, but they must be out by to-morrow night.”

“Very well; but first let me inquire what the row is all about.”

“Do so.”

“Now, gentlemen, what is it you want? for here is a person who can do as much for you as the admiral himself, and perhaps more.”

“Ah, pray ask him, then.”

“But you have not yet told me what you require.”

“Eh bien!” they said, both speaking at once, “pray, my friend, ask this gentleman to tell the English admiral to postpone the order for our landing to-morrow morning till the next day. It is impossible for us to land our men and horses so early. We have above four hundred horses on board; not half of which have been watered to-day, nor can they be, till we find some water. There is only a small pump to draw it from the hold of the vessel, and it takes hours to water a few horses.”

Having explained this their chief trouble to the admiral, he said—“Tell them there will be plenty of water for them by four o’clock in the morning.”

When I had done so, they inquired whether they could depend upon that gentleman’s word. I assured them that they might.

“With respect to the other matters, we ought to see the admiral himself.”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself; I will do the rest for you.”

This was merely a request concerning themselves. I did not like to trouble the admiral about it, and I thought the best way to get rid of them was to show them his flag-ship, telling them they might go there if they liked, but that it was a hundred to one if they found him on board.

“No, no!” said one of them; “it is dinner-time, and the English like their dinner too well; he is sure to be at home, so we will go and see.” Having their boat with them, they went across.

The admiral asked—“What do they want besides the water for their horses?”

“Oh, they were inquiring about the camp.”

I then related all our conversation, at which the admiral laughed heartily, saying he could understand some of it, but they spoke so very fast.

“When they come on board to-morrow, they will be sure to recognise me.”

“Oh no! having only seen you in the dark, they will not know you again; and I shall be there. Don’t trouble yourself; they will be quiet enough when they get all they want, and they have a very fine camp.”

“Have you seen it?”

“No, admiral, not yet.”

“Then you ought to go and see it; they are building a large hospital there. Mind, they have reason to complain. I am aware they ought to have more time; but see what a fleet I have in such a small harbour, and every day there are more troops coming. Perhaps an expedition of our own troops will sail shortly, so I must be prepared for everything. That is what has kept me on this side of the harbour to-night; besides, I wished to see how they were going on with the new quay.”

“You have done wonders, admiral, on this side of the harbour since my arrival.”

“Remember, Monsieur Soyer, we cannot always do as we like. We are not in England.” We parted for the night.