I THUS had the opportunity of taking my civilian cooks away with me, as I wanted their services in the Crimea. Upon my arrival at Balaklava, I paid my respects to General Codrington. My stoves had arrived just before, and the fact of their having been adopted was mentioned in the orders of the day.

Mr. Phillips, the engineer I had requested the Government to send out to superintend or repair the stoves if required, arrived on board the Argo. I am happy to say that, as far as repairs were concerned, this gentleman’s services were not needed. Although the stoves were frequently moved from camp to camp, and from one regiment to another—were in continual use in the open air, exposed to all weathers, and some of them for above twelve months, they did not stand in need of any repairs. This fact speaks volumes for their fitness for campaigning.

Mr. Phillips was the son of one of the partners of the firm of Smith and Phillips. He had nothing to do professionally as regards the repairing of the stoves, but I must acknowledge that he made himself very useful as well as agreeable. He rose very early, and accompanied me in my camp cruises, racing from stove to stove. He woke at daybreak, but always felt rather drowsy till he had taken a strong cup of tea, with a stronger drop of rum in it, which set him, as he said, upon his mettle. He then mounted his horse, which had gloriously served his country for nearly fourteen years in the French cavalry under a heavy cuirassier. The only inconvenience with this warrior quadruped was that my cockney Zouave was never sure which regiment he should visit first, as he was no sooner on the back of this old pensioner, than he began to fidget, and off he went in any direction, but always stopped at some regimental stable. This did not so much matter, as I had stoves in almost every regiment. The only plan was to make no positive appointment.

On two or three occasions he was less successful, for Ventre-À-terre—such was the French name of that Pegasus—took him full gallop through the French camp. The first inconvenience was my having no stove there; the second, the French had arrested him for galloping through the camp, and were about to put his horse in the pound and himself in prison. I arrived quite by chance, and he was liberated. As he spoke no French, he was endeavouring to assure them in English that he was not the culprit, but his horse. I explained the case to the French sergeant, and recommended, as a point of justice, as it was the animal’s fault, that he should be put in the stable and the horse in prison. This amused the group of Imperial Guards, who surrounded us by scores, and a few bottles of very, very acid wine, procured at Madame Fleur des Bois’, the mistress of the canteen, terminated in full glee the adventure of my cockney Zouave of Snow-hill in the French camp of the Crimea.

Mr. Phillips was an excellent vocalist, and his collection, unlike that of my Zouave Bornet, with his “En avant les Bataillons d’Afrique,” “Storm of Constantine,” “Bravest of the Brave,” “Cannon Ball,” “Shell Polka,” &c., was of a softer nature, including “Sally in our Alley,” who, he pretended, was the love of his heart. Another of his favourite pieces intimated that the soft part of that organ was bursting for the love of Alice Gray, whom he very much wished to meet by moonlight alone, or in company with the “Ratcatcher’s Daughter,” while walking round the garden with “Villikins and his Dinah.” I am induced thus minutely to depict the merits of my Snow-hill Zouave, because he will be so well recognised by those who were in the camp. He was short, fair, fat, and full of London jokes, which he had the fault of laughing at more himself than those did who listened to him. He is a good son, good husband, good father, a good fellow, but a bad punster.

The chief evil in the old canteen cooking apparatus was, that it so easily got out of repair. There was no possibility either of mending them or of obtaining new ones, as they were only issued at certain periods. I saw some that had been mended in a most extraordinary style. When the hole was too small, the soldiers would poke a rusty nail into it; if large, a nail with a piece of leather attached. Other operators would cut a piece off the cover in order to mend the bottom or side; and as after that scientific repair leakage was unavoidable, they were obliged to keep putting in fresh water, or to let the canteen burn.

After our interview, General Codrington promised me his assistance. The Congress was then sitting, and rumours of peace were flying about. I asked the general whether it would not be better to prevent more stoves being sent out. He replied—

“Perhaps it would.”

“I am glad to hear you say so, your excellency, it being a sign of peace, as war I consider at all times unprofitable.”

“On the contrary, Monsieur Soyer; we are making greater preparations than ever for war.”

It was decided that, for the time being, one stove should be delivered to each regiment, and be removed from company to company, in order to give all the men an insight into the method of using them, and of my system of cooking. This was immediately done; and on the receipt of the following from Colonel Blane, I went to Colonel Halliwell:—

SOYER’S VILLARETTE ON CATHCART’S HILL. Taken unexpectedly by a Non-Commissioned Artist in the Rifle Brigade.
SOYER’S VILLARETTE ON CATHCART’S HILL.
Taken unexpectedly by a Non-Commissioned Artist in the Rifle Brigade.

The plan I had adopted for the introduction of my stoves was as follows:—I first had an interview with the colonel of the regiment, who introduced me to the quartermaster—the latter to the storekeeper. Then I went to the commissariat in each division, where I looked over the stores, in order to regulate the distribution of the provisions and condiments with judgment and according to common sense.[22]

To remedy this evil in a private family would only require a few minutes’ conversation with the cook; while in an army it would take years, as military rules would have to be changed and fresh ones introduced. Simple as the change may appear, it is still very difficult to carry out, particularly in a camp extending over such a large space of ground. Fortunately, I was invested with the power of doing so without troubling the authorities: nevertheless, it was only by the following plan that I succeeded. To effect this very important object, as well as to introduce my new system, I devoted an hour to attend in person and give the first lesson myself to the soldier-cooks. As the colonel, quartermaster, and a serjeant were present, besides many officers as lookers-on, a great impression was thus created upon the men, who immediately saw the importance of following my instructions. I supplied the cooks with receipts printed at head-quarters, which gave them quite an official appearance. The annexed specimen will give an idea of their simplicity, and of the facility with which they might be adopted:—

Thanks to the kindness of the colonels and of the authorities of each regiment, every man did his best, and not one found fault with either the stoves or the receipts: on the contrary, they all took pride in their task, and only regretted being compelled to return to the use of the camp-kettles, as sufficient of my stoves had not then arrived to enable me to supply them all. The cooking out of doors was also very agreeable to them, besides the saving of labour, in not having to cut, split, or saw several hundredweight of wood for each company, as they now only required a few pounds.

Having proved the utility of the stoves, the military authorities and doctors tasted the different soups and messes, with which they were also well pleased. The following letters, with those in Addenda,[24] will fully corroborate my statement on both these points:—

After having started them in person, I sent my cooks every morning on their rounds to see if the men followed my instructions, and I visited each regiment daily. The hospitals, thank God, were at this time almost empty. When a division had made use of the stoves about a week, I requested the general commanding that division to inquire of the colonel, officers, and men, their opinion of the results of my labours; and in that manner I acquired the above-mentioned numerous letters of commendation, having in my possession many others, but space will not allow of their insertion.

One of the days on which salt rations were issued, I requested General Garrett to go round his division and ask the men what they did with the fat. This he very kindly did, accompanied by his aide-de-camp, Major Dallas. The first cook we visited, in the 18th Regiment, had rations for 94 men (the whole of his company). They were being cooked in one stove: the two stoves for the same quantity would have been much better, as the more water the meat is boiled in, the more salt is extracted from it. The boiler was filled to the brim, the contents simmering gently: the meat was beautifully cooked. There were about four inches of clear fat, as sweet as butter, floating on the top. The stove was in the open air, and the cook only burnt from ten to fifteen pounds of wood (or hardly so much) to cook for that number—viz., the whole of his company. The allowance of wood had been reduced from 4½lbs. to 3½lbs. per man daily. The advent of peace gave me a full opportunity of thoroughly instructing the men, and thus I was enabled firmly to establish my new system. The saving in wood alone, supposing each company to consist of one hundred men, would, at the former rate of allowance, amount to 450lbs. per company per diem, allowing 25lbs. for cooking, which is ample. This in a regiment of eight companies would make a daily saving of 3600lbs. of wood, independent of the economy of transport, mules, labour, &c. In an army of forty thousand men, it would amount to the immense figure of 180,000lbs., or 90 tons, per day saved to the Government, or 32,850 tons per annum.

General Garrett asked the man what he was going to do with the fat.

“Throw it away, general,” was the answer.

“Throw it away!—why?” said the General.

“I don’t know, sir, but we always do.”

“Why not use it?”—“The men don’t like it, sir.”

I observed that when the salt meat was cooked in the small canteen pans, the fat was lost for want of the necessary quantity of water to allow it to rise to the surface, as well as to purify it of the salt. Asking the man for a leaden spoon and a tin can, I removed the fat as I had before done in the Guards’ camp. On weighing it the next day, I found upwards of 14lbs. of beautiful clean and sweet dripping, fit for use as described in the receipts. Thus about 800lbs. of this were wasted weekly by each regiment—salt rations being issued four days a week.

General Garrett expressed a decided opinion that my apparatus was much superior to the old canteen pan, and gave me a letter, which I append in the Addenda.

The signature of the treaty of peace changed all the proceedings in the camp, except mine; for in anticipation of the distribution of the remainder of the stoves among the various regiments in the camps at Aldershot barracks, &c., as well as to those on foreign stations, I continued my daily course of instruction, in order that the men, upon arrival at home or elsewhere, might be well acquainted with their use, and be able to impart their knowledge to others. I have since hit upon a plan by which I shall introduce an oven and steamer, and thus do all that is required to vary the cooking of the daily meals in barracks—a subject of great importance.

War having ceased, the camp bore the appearance of a monster banqueting-hall. “We have done fighting,” said every one, “so let us terminate the campaign by feasting, lay down our victorious but murderous weapons, and pick up those more useful and restorative arms—the knife and fork.”

All appeared to have caught a giving-parties mania. You could scarcely meet a friend or even a slight acquaintance without being apostrophized by, “When will you dine with me?” as regularly as though it had been inserted in the order of the day. The first invitation I received was from the witty General Barnard, who so generously entertained his friends, under the superintendence of his major-domo, Captain Barnard (the gallant general’s son). A good table, good wine, and plenty of everything, or at least the best that could be obtained, were provided; and no less than five times had I the honour of being invited to enjoy the noble general’s good cheer. Next came invitations from my noble friend and neighbour, General Garrett, Lord W. Paulet, Colonel de Bathe, Colonel Peel, Major Fielden, Lord Vane, Lord Dunkellin, and the great epicure of epicures, Colonel Haley, of the 47th, &c., &c.; to each and all of whom I cannot but feel grateful—not alone for their liberal welcome, but also for the honour of having been admitted to their friendship.

I could do no less than return the compliment, which was of course expected from me, the Gastronomic Regenerator. The first dinner I gave was honoured by the presence of the following gentlemen—viz., Lord William Paulet, Gen. Garrett, Gen. Wyndham, Gen. Barnard, Col. Halliwell, Col. R. Campbell (90th), Col. Haley (47th), Major Earle, Major Dallas, Captain Barnard, &c.

The bill of fare was as follows:—

Hors-d’oeuvres.
Les anchoix—sardines—lamproies À l’huile—mortadelle
de VÉrone—olives farcies—thon—cornichons À l’estragon—salade—legumes—dessert—cafÉ—liqueurs.

Though there was nothing very recherchÉ in the dinner, it met with the approval of all the guests. The appearance of my humble but originally-decorated hut, profusely lit up with wax lights, and a rather nicely laid-out table, surrounded by military men of high standing, in their various uniforms, was exceedingly novel. The occasion formed quite an epoch in my life, and I shall probably never again have the honour of entertaining such a distinguished circle under similar circumstances. Encouraged by this my first success, I felt in duty bound to continue the series of these petites fÊtes AnacrÉontiques, at which were assembled wit, mirth, good appetite, and delightful harmony. Amateur artistes of no little note, who had emerged triumphant from the murky atmosphere produced by the incessant bombardment of Sebastopol, were there. By their exertions the barriers of freedom and civilization were opened to all, and the autocrat Czar was compelled to submit. Those who but a few days before had been enemies were now friends. In fact, the war had ceased, and peace, that mother of sociability, offered her delights freely to all. Care seemed banished from every brow, excepting the sincere regret devoted to the memory of those brave men who had so nobly died for the glory of their country. In addition to the theatres, which had amused the camp throughout the winter, madrigal and glee clubs were instituted. At one of my petits dÎners (at which the filet de boeuf pique marinÉ was duly discussed and highly praised by my Epicurean guests) the leader of the madrigal club, Colonel de Bathe, proposed that, as I had the largest and most convenient hut for the purpose, besides being well provided with culinary as well as table utensils, as a finale, and to crush the last vestige of sorrow in every one’s heart on account of this memorable war, I should give a dinner-party, after which the whole of the members of the Crimean Madrigal Club would harmoniously close the evening with a concert. The proposition was unanimously agreed to. I promised my guests to do my best to close the season of war by producing an excellent gastronomic popotte. A general invitation was given, and the day fixed.

When General LÜders courteously invited the French and English generals to honour him with their presence at his famed camp on the well-known Mackenzie Heights, the invitation was accepted for the following day. Everybody was anxious to go, and the invitation being a general one, lucky were they who had heard of it. The next day a stream of general officers of the Allied armies poured towards the Tchernaya Bridge. This was our first friendly meeting with those who had so bravely defended themselves and sacrificed their blood in defence of the national cause: General LÜders himself had lost two of his sons in the battle-field. The reception was grand and interesting, the review imposing, the lunch excellent, the bizarrerie of some very eccentric performance by the Cossacks highly amusing, the weather very fine, and the welcome joyous and hearty. It showed what marvels could be produced by a few strokes from a pen guided by a powerful and prudent hand. Only a few days before, the soil upon which we were treading peacefully was trodden by these same human beings with hearts full of revenge, thirst of blood, and destruction. In place of these, good understanding, as if by magic, restored to each heart the feelings of humanity and religion. Thousands of enemies were in a few minutes changed to hospitable friends. The hostile line of demarcation was now removed, and the camp of our late enemies free to all; and, instead of gaining inch by inch of ground by the sweat of the brow and waste of blood and life, there was welcome for all. Such was the effect produced upon my mind by the advent of peace, after that memorable and sanguinary Eastern war, through which I thank God for sparing my life during my humble mission, in the prosecution of which I had the honour of witnessing the finale of that great European question, in which the honour and glory of mighty nations were deeply involved.

After this solemn day of reception, the fusion of the armies took place. Our camp was invaded by Russians, as theirs was by our men. The works and fortifications, as well as Bakschiserai, Simpheropol, Perekop, &c. &c., were immediately taken without bloodshed. The popping of the well-corked champagne had replaced the monstrous and unsociable voice of the cannon. The sparkling liquid, poured in tin pots or cups—anything but crystal champagne-glasses—seemed to unite all hearts. All the taverns, hotels, inns, huts, marquees, bell tents, &c., had their visitors; and no people more than the Russians proved their immediate attachment to us, by making it a rule not to disoblige any one who asked the favour of their company. Rather than do this, they preferred staying a week, a fortnight, or even a month. This I, as well as some of my friends, had the felicity of experiencing, as often the whole family—father, mother, sons and daughters, horse, cart, and dogs included—would take up their residence with one. Most of us made a pilgrimage to Bakschiserai, Simpheropol, Yalta, and other places, after the proclamation of peace; and, to the honour and credit of the inhabitants, all were received with a cordial welcome, after being first introduced to the governor of the city. Freely indeed was their hospitality bestowed, and it was our duty to return the compliment by an invitation to our camp, which seldom failed to be accepted, and shortly after put in execution, after the style above mentioned.

Justice must also be done to the Tartar families whom we visited, for their liberality and friendship. I never saw a man more put out than one near Bakschiserai on an occasion when a friend and myself had entered a house in order to obtain some refreshment. We there found a very numerous family, among which were three small children, from three to ten years of age. The father, who was an old man, made us understand by telegraphic signs, À la Tartare, that he, and he alone, was the father, which we had not the slightest objection to believe. Two rather good-looking girls, also daughters, waited attentively upon us, and in less than ten minutes a frugal repast was offered. The old man and his rather young wife gave us to understand that they had laid before us the best they had, for which we, by telegraphic signs, made them comprehend that we were quite pleased and very grateful. When we had satisfied our appetites, we made ready to start, and offered to pay for the accommodation we had received: but scarcely had the English sovereign fallen upon the stone slab before the old father, who was nursing the two youngest scions of his race upon his knees, than he rose up with a spring, dropped the children on the floor, and stroking his long white hair with one hand, made a sign for the sovereign to be immediately returned to the pocket with the other, as if he feared that the heaven towards which his eyes were directed would punish him for violating the laws of hospitality if he accepted the money. We did as he desired, and peace and friendship were at once restored. It was a scene worthy of the Dame Blanche of Boieldieu, taken from Sir Walter Scott’s Monastery, where the Highland farmer says to travellers like ourselves, “The Scotch mountaineers dispense their hospitality, but never sell it.”

Soon after this charming incident had occurred, we left our generous host and his fine family in their peaceable dwelling. This love of hospitality did not prevail amongst the retail dealers, who, on the contrary, endeavoured to fleece visitors in every possible way, as if anxious to get one’s skin in order to sell it for what it would fetch. As curiosity had allured us thus far into the bowels of the land, and as we were not particular about trifles, even in money matters, on this auspicious occasion, these human vultures were permitted to gorge themselves at our expense and that of our pockets. Champagne was sold at a pound and more the bottle, stout at ten shillings, and everything else at the same exorbitant rate, but by way of compensation all was of an inferior quality.