FOR a few days all business seemed suspended in the camp, and the rage with every one was to visit the ruins of the far-famed city. The hospitals in the camp and at Balaklava were quite full, though most of the patients were going on very satisfactorily. Much bustle was observed at both the French and English head-quarters. As the soup was no longer required for the soldiers in the trenches, the order for the field-stoves remained some time in abeyance, and all appeared like holiday time. In fact, people kept flocking, with and without permission, into Sebastopol. Deeming this a favourable opportunity, I proposed giving a dÉjeÛner in the Malakhoff two days after its capture, and cooking it with my magic bivouac-stove. Among the guests invited were Colonels Daniell, De Bathe; Brigadier Drummond; Majors Fielden, Armitage; Captain Tower, &c. &c. We were to muster about twelve; the great dish was to be the poulets sautÉs À la Malakhoff, cooked on my pocket bivouac-stove in the open air. All was prepared, and we were about to start, when I learnt that we should not be allowed to enter the tower. Colonel Daniell, who had some business at head-quarters, promised to try and obtain permission. I at once went to General Pelissier for the order, which could not be granted in his absence. I saw General Rose, who said any other day he should be happy to make the request. The appetites of my invited guests were sharpened and the stomachs waiting, and they would have grumbled had they not been satisfied. We therefore agreed that in lieu of having it in the Malakhoff, we should make ourselves satisfied with the Mamelon Vert À la Carleton; and a very jovial reunion we made of it. Alas! it was the last I was destined to enjoy for some time.

Seven or eight days after, I was laid up with a very severe attack of Crimean fever. Not being aware of the nature of my illness, I thought rest was all I required, after the fatigue I had undergone: I therefore went to bed—but what kind of bed?—under damp canvas, with a muddy floor, as it had rained heavily for some days. I felt so ill, that I could neither lie, sit, nor stand, without great suffering. Imagining that I could conquer the disease, I did not send for the doctor. Fortunately for me, a short time after my attack, as I lay in bed, Dr. Linton, who often visited me, chanced to call at my tent. I told him of my indisposition, and he at once sent me some medicine, more blankets, and kindly offered his services; at the same time informing me that I had a serious attack of fever. I was in the Coldstreams’ camp; and Dr. Wyatt claimed me as his patient, and paid me a visit. He immediately ordered me to keep my bed. For some days he watched my case most diligently, and under his skilful care I soon got better. During my illness I received visits and kind inquiries from almost all the heads of the forces, for which I shall ever feel grateful; their attention was most gratifying to my feelings, and I am proud of the consideration evinced for me by that noble band, the British army.

Directly I recovered and was allowed to go about, I felt anxious to have a decided answer respecting the stoves—for the matter was at that time in abeyance. I also wished to visit the various regimental hospitals in which my men were engaged teaching the soldiers. In my eagerness to attend to these things, I overfatigued myself, and brought on a second attack, much worse than the former. Dr. Wyatt was almost in despair, and privately informed Mr. Mesnil that I was in great danger. However, owing entirely to his great care and kind attention, in three weeks I had partly recovered, but was so much altered that scarcely anybody could recognise me. I one day visited Lord William Paulet, who had left Scutari, and was on board the Leander in Balaklava Bay. I was so much changed, that neither Admiral Freemantle nor his lordship knew me. Miss Nightingale had returned, and was much in want of my services. Not being aware of my illness, she sent for me; and as soon as I recovered, I waited upon and accompanied that lady to the Monastery Hospital. The fatigue consequent upon my exertions brought me so low, that Dr. Wyatt insisted upon my leaving the Crimea, saying he would not be responsible for my safety any longer in that climate.

A few days before my departure the following laughable circumstance occurred, which has already been related in the columns of the Illustrated News by an amateur correspondent:—

Soon after I left Balaklava for Scutari on board the Imperador, Captain Brown. His humorous countenance would alone have sufficed to restore the gaiety of the most shattered constitution, setting aside his good-nature and continual kindness to his numerous passengers, particularly the invalids. What visitor to the Crimea has not known or heard of Captain Brown of the Imperador? His heart was as large as his ship, and his mind as brilliant as his gorgeous saloon: moreover, his table was worthy of any yachting epicure. He was in every way a credit to that noble class of men, the pet children of the ocean, the captain’s kingly race. At the time of my trip he was an invalid, having broken two of his ribs; but he did not consider the case a serious one, and consoled himself by saying this accident was nothing compared with the one he had met with a few months before. “Then,” said he, laughing, “I actually fell into the coal-hole, and broke my collar bone; and (showing his lame arm) I shall be lame for life through it. However, these broken ribs are nearly set again, and I shall soon be well. But pray do not make me laugh—come, let us have another glass of port,” closed his argument. (This was cheese-time dialogue.)

We had a fine passage, as well as agreeable companions in the passengers, amongst whom were three American gentlemen just returning from Russia. They were in Sebastopol during the storming on the 8th of September, and had been sent by their Government upon important duty. Owing to my weakness at the time, I have forgotten the purport of their mission. They had been introduced to the Emperor Alexander, and spoke in high terms of his Majesty’s courtesy. They had come from America in their own ship, which was at that time in the Bosphorus undergoing repairs. I was invited to dine with them some day, which I promised to do, but was not able to keep my promise, in consequence of my continued illness. “The dinner,” said one of them, “shall be cooked À la Soyer, for we have your book on board—the one called the Modern Housewife.”

I felt much flattered when they afterwards told me that my book was very extensively used in America. “Your Cookery-book, Monsieur Soyer, is the national book, or ‘household words.’ Every respectable family has it. Indeed, you are as well known by reputation in America as in England. Take this for a standing invitation. Should you ever come as far as our American land of freedom, we invite you to be our guest.”

At this I was highly gratified, and almost promised, if I recovered, to accept their invitation. At all events, in case I should not go, I take this opportunity of thanking them heartily for their kind invitation, in hopes that this book, like its predecessors, will cross the Atlantic, and come under their notice.

To me everything on board the magnificent ship Imperador wore a smiling aspect, and I began to feel myself again. I no sooner arrived at Scutari, than I went and visited Brigadier-General Storks, with whom I had not the pleasure of being acquainted. He had succeeded Lord William Paulet. I was kindly received by the general. He congratulated me in flattering terms upon the good system I had introduced into the kitchen department of the hospitals, of which he was at that time the governor. I felt myself quite at home with the general, who, though an Englishman, could have taught me my own language. He certainly spoke it more fluently than I did myself: I had been so long in England, and had, moreover, employed so many people of different nations—Greeks, Armenians, Turks, French, Italians; and I must not omit two Maltese, who, to render them justice, were worth all my other cooks put together for intelligence and activity—that I began to forget my native tongue. My readers can easily suppose that, amidst such a miscellany of languages, one might easily murder one’s own. General Storks is not only a good French scholar, but has all the tournure and appearance of the French beau idÉal. After about half-an-hour’s chat upon business and other matters, I left the general, and promised to have the pleasure of visiting him frequently during my stay in Scutari, which was to be about a week—it being then my intention to return to England to regain my health.

I visited my first Crimean doctor, Dr. Linton, who had left the Crimea to replace Dr. Cumming. He would hardly condescend to know me, so much had I altered; and I found this to be the case with every one I met. I frightened my cooks when I entered the kitchen. They had heard that I was dead, which I afterwards personally denied; but they did not think it possible I could look so bad. Purveyors, comptrollers, civilian and military doctors, Sisters of Mercy, all consoled me by saying, “I fear you will never get over it, Monsieur Soyer.”

“Well,” I replied to some of them, “that’s my business; at all events, I will do my best to deceive you.”

Nothing is less likely to restore a man when he is half dead than trying to persuade him that he must succumb. Thanks to my lucky star, I have deceived them all; and some richly deserve it, as they had laid bets upon my chance, particularly my Zouave and another of my men. The former answered all inquiries respecting the state of my health by, “The governor, you see, is in a very bad way. His hash is settled; it is all over with him. It is a pity, for he is a good man, and he had promised to take me with him to London, a place I very much wish to visit.”

A few days after my arrival in Constantinople my health again failed me, and having no further need for the services of my Zouave, to his great regret we parted, but on such friendly terms, that he afterwards often observed, “Look ye, governor, you have been a good master to me, and if you ever recover from your serious illness, which is not very probable, send for me—I am still your man, and will follow you anywhere and everywhere, even to England; and if any fellow annoys you, here is the arm (showing it to the shoulder) which will make them bleed to death and bury them after.”

I took up my residence at Soyer House, where I enjoyed the gay and interesting prospect for an invalid of the monster lugubrious cemetery, or Grand Champ des Morts, on one side, and the hospital on the other. The weather was wet and wretched—the house, as usual, splendidly ventilated, and had been robbed of its furniture by a Greek servant I had left there. It was, moreover, populated by rats and other vermin. Before I could set it in order, I fell ill for the third time, and had, in addition to my former malady, a severe attack of dysentery. I left my dismal abode, now become unbearable, crossed the Bosphorus to Pera, and took up my lodgings at an hotel for a few days, as I then anticipated, having determined upon my departure for England. However, instead of improving in health, I grew worse and worse, and was laid up for three months; in fact, I began to fear my Zouave would win his wager. During this time, I received notice that the order had been given for four hundred stoves, which were to be forwarded as fast as they could be made. I therefore decided upon remaining at Constantinople, in the hope of being able, in the event of getting better, of returning to the Crimea, and distributing them to the different regiments.

One day I had crossed over to Scutari, in order to visit Miss Nightingale, who had just arrived from Balaklava, when I met the celebrated Dr. Sutherland, who, like the rest, gave me a very encouraging view of his scientific opinion upon the state of my health. “For God’s sake, Soyer,” said he, “do leave this country, and go immediately to Malta—not England—or you are a dead man.”

“Not so, doctor,” I replied; “I am much better these last few days. In fact, I am going back to the Crimea; my stoves are expected daily, and I must go and distribute them.”

“In that case, don’t forget to take your tombstone with you.”

“A very interesting thing to do, doctor; but I shall chance the voyage for all that, if I improve; and as to the tombstone, I shall leave that to friendly hands in case it is required.”

I thanked him for the valuable medical advice he had given me, as well as the suggestion of a visit to Malta. I left my German doctor, Mr. Morris, a very eminent man I believe, but his German style of treatment did not seem to agree with my John Bull constitution. I had no sooner left him and adopted the English style of treatment, (and here I cannot refrain from expressing my thanks to a young medical gentleman named Ambler, who was most assiduous in his kind attentions to me, and through following his prescriptions, which were very strengthening, I ultimately recovered,) and was able to cook nice things for myself, instead of starving À l’Allemande upon a rigorous diet, than I regained strength enough to go about and look to business, and even to ride from hospital to hospital—go to the Isles des Princes, Therapia, BuyukderÉ, &c., for change of air, and was at last strong enough to accept the following invitation to the grand ball at the English Embassy:—

This grand annual festival, so eagerly looked for by the fashionables of Pera and Constantinople, presented this year quite a new phase. In addition to the usual diplomatic corps of the various nations represented by their ambassadors and their noble families, there were the Élite of the Allied armies. The full-dress costumes of the diplomatic corps, as well as those of the military men, intermixed with hundreds of exquisite fancy costumes, formed a ravishing tout ensemble.

Such an assemblage of members of all nations probably never met beneath the same roof, and very likely never will again—the advent of the war being the cause. The greatest attraction of the ball was the assemblage of ladies in their brilliant costumes. Independent of those from the various embassies, were French, English, German, Greek, Armenian, Italian, and Circassian ladies—in fact, all nations except the one the ball was given to, viz., Turkish ladies, the only lady in that Oriental costume turning out to be a colonel of cavalry. At an early hour, the magnificent ball-room, which is lit from the roof by thousands of wax lights, was full. At nine precisely the cannon was heard announcing the arrival of the Sultan at the Palais d’Angleterre. The coup-d’oeil was really fairylike, upon the entrance of his Majesty and suite, the latter attired in full uniforms, which could not fail to astonish the most initiated eye by the gorgeous display of gold, jewels, and diamonds, coupled with the idea that such a scene had never before been witnessed except on high Turkish festivals, which are even more solemn than our grand ceremonies. Upon this occasion were assembled all the grandees and chief Turkish officers, attired in their sacred festival uniforms, with a smile upon their countenances, instead of the usual stolid and serious cast of features so peculiar to the Moslem during their grand ceremonies. His Sublime Majesty was nobly though plainly attired, and shone above his suite by his magnificent simplicity.

Lord Stratford de Redcliffe met the Sultan at the foot of the great marble staircase, that architectural chef-d’oeuvre of the Palais d’Angleterre; and her ladyship and family, surrounded by her noble circle, received him at the summit. His Majesty, with great affability, expressed through Lord de Redcliffe the gratification he felt at being presented to her ladyship and her numerous visitors. He was shown through the various saloons, which were brilliantly illuminated and profusely decorated with choice flowers: they were all crowded. The expression of his Majesty’s countenance showed that he took the most vivid interest in the novel scene witnessed by him for the first time. The ladies’ fancy dresses were in exquisite taste, particularly the “Elizabeth Quadrilles,” led by Lady de Redcliffe and the young ladies, forming a perfect representation in tableau vivant of the Elizabethan period, brilliantly executed. The costumes most to be admired in that assemblage of aristocratic beauty were, the Pompadour, Ninon de l’Enclos, ancient Greek, Circassian, Roman peasant, Albanaise, Catalanaise, and Pierrettes.

All the gentlemen, except the diplomatic and high military corps, were in fancy character, which gave a cheerful appearance and ensemble to the ball; and the Sultan, prior to his departure, expressed to Lord and Lady de Redcliffe the gratification he felt at witnessing such a lively scene.[21]

Towards five in the morning, its dazzling grandeur had disappeared, and very forcibly presented to some of us the reverse of the medal. To a mild evening succeeded a most tempestuous and cold morning: snow fell heavily in the Oriental city. The change of temperature was so sudden and violent, that one might have fancied oneself transferred by enchantment from summer to winter, or from Paradise to Pandemonium. The sudden change of scene and temperature presented a sad contrast to the mind. A few friends accompanied me who were, like myself, very lightly clad, being in character, and we had to go home in that storm of snow on foot. On reflection, I felt that I had acted very imprudently in going at all, in the state I was then in, and that it might prove fatal to me. “After all,” said I to my friends, who, like myself, were floundering about in the snow, by that time six inches deep in some places, “I should very much regret not having been, no matter what may be the consequences. To be present at an entertainment which the Padischah for the first time had honoured with his presence, viz., a Christian ball, is far from being a common thing.”

We reached our hotel door as wet as frogs, the movements of which reptile we had been for some time imitating by jumping from tombstone to tombstone in the Petit Champ des Morts, that being our nearest road home. The door was opened, after we had knocked about twenty times. Nevertheless, we had no reason to be dull or impatient, as there was defiling before us the everlasting caravan of donkeys laden with coffins for the daily consumption of the French hospital at Pera. Never, perhaps, upon any stage was there such a sudden change from the sublime to the gloomy. The door at last opened, and we were saluted with a “Very sorry, gentlemen, to keep you waiting, but we did not expect you so early.” It was only half-past six A.M.

I made sure that I should be ill after such a series of events, and, wishing to be quiet, I gave special orders that no one should be permitted to disturb me, excepting the doctor, who was in the habit of calling occasionally. I had scarcely fallen asleep, when I was aroused by a knock at the door, and a letter was put into my hands apprising me that part of my stoves had arrived. I was, therefore, obliged to rise immediately and to go in person to the Admiralty, as my head man had left for Scutari the night before. The steamer was on its way to Balaklava, and the captain did not know what he was to do with them. I immediately wrote to Colonel Blane at head-quarters upon the subject, and received the following letter in reply:—

Head-quarters, Crimea, 19th March, 1856.

Sir,—In reply to your letter of the 13th inst., I am directed to acquaint you that the new field-stoves will not be issued by Captain Gordon until he receives instructions to that effect from the Quartermaster-General. Lieut.-Colonel Halliwell, Assistant Quartermaster-General of the Fourth Division, will give you, on your arrival in the Crimea, every information as to the hut which was directed to be built for your use in the camp of the Fourth Division.

I have the honour to be, Sir,
Your most obedient servant,
Robert Blane, Lieut.-Col.,
Military Secretary.

Monsieur A. Soyer,
Barrack Hospital, Scutari.