Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War. Soyer Alexis
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