Ten horses were waiting for the Pacha, and my dragoman informed me that his highness was anxious to do me the Turkish honours, and would walk hand-in-hand with me through the town. Bowing respectfully to his highness, I begged Mr. Mason (a Greek and my dragoman) to say that I should be delighted with the honour—that I much appreciated the extreme politeness and kind intention of his highness.
We then started, the Pacha taking my hand, preceded by six men, bearing five large lanterns, and a glass one with three bougies in it. Behind came his suite, composed of about ten gentlemen; next, the chiboukshis and the horses. Mason, my man, was of course close to me to interpret what the Pacha said, which, however, was of no great importance. Our brilliant cortége slowly wended its way through the dense crowd at lower Scutari. Every one stopped and bowed respectfully to the Pacha. Still holding my hand, he presented me to the assembled crowd. My dragoman here observed, “By seeing the Pacha on foot, and holding you by the hand, all are aware you must be a high personage, and a respected friend of his excellency.” Hearing this, and seeing the soldiers at the various stations go through their military evolutions as we stopped before them, I really began to fancy I was a great man. Thanks to my common sense, I recollected the humble part I had to play on life’s great stage, and could I at the time have obtained possession of my left hand (which my illustrious friend had retained in his own from his door to the spot where we were then standing, a distance of more than two miles), I should have shaken hands with myself, exclaiming, in the words of Shakespeare, “Richard’s—no! Soyer’s himself again!”
This was indeed a splendid soirée, and could I spare space, the extraordinary scenes I witnessed while going the rounds of magisterial duty with the Pacha would of themselves make a very interesting chapter. Our progress came to an end at a confectioner’s shop, the largest and principal one in Scutari. Here sherbet, coffee and chibouques, iced lemonade, sweets, and all kinds of fruit in season, were handed to us, as we sat upon the divans in open view to the public, a great crowd having been attracted to the spot.
Numbers entered and saluted the Pacha, and retired. His pachaship having inquired if I would take anything else, Mr. Mason, replied in the negative. He then said that he was obliged to remain out all night on his magisterial duty, and that he wished me the repose of the dead till morning.
In return for this lively desire, I wished him the night of the living, and we parted. Two lantern-chibougies preceded us, by his order; our horses followed; and about an hour after, we dismissed our Jack-o’-lanterns with rather a comfortable bacshish.
It was striking three, and the sentry refused to let Mason enter the Barrack Hospital, where he was quartered. I offered him a lodging at my house, which he accepted. Though very late, we arrived in time to scare two thieves away over the garden wall; and in stumbling over a basket, we perceived their booty consisted of only a few cherries and mulberries, nothing being deranged or stolen from the house.
Having frequently visited the General Hospital and Kululee, and as the time for my second voyage to the Crimea was approaching, I requested Lord W. Paulet, who was always very desirous of seeing everything himself, to pay one more official visit to the various hospitals, which he agreed to do, and fixed a day for that purpose. He also informed me that the Duke of Newcastle was expected daily. Miss Nightingale had almost recovered, and had recommenced her assiduous exertions.
My long-expected field-stoves had arrived. I made a trial with them before the military and medical authorities, which succeeded admirably, even surpassing my expectations in all respects. I was more anxious than ever to return to the Crimea, and make my grand experiment before General Simpson; and, if approved of by the authorities, to have the proper number ordered by Government for the supply of the whole army, reform the old system, and introduce my new one. The stoves would of course require an outlay at first, which would soon be saved in the great economy of fuel and transport, the small number of men required, independently of the immense improvement in cookery, which was at first the only object I had in view.
Lord W. Paulet’s visit took place, as agreed upon, about three days previous to the arrival of the Duke of Newcastle. He found everything in good order, and I was much pleased. A few days after, I was, owing to the sudden departure of my head man, Jullien, busily engaged at my forges, surrounded by my soldiers, like a modern Vulcan, dressed in my culinary attire, and in the act of manipulating some hundreds of mock rice-puddings (made without eggs or milk—see receipt in [Addenda]) for my numerous convalescent guests, the brave British, when suddenly my kitchen was filled with military gentlemen of all ranks, amongst whom was no less a personage than the late Minister-at-War, the Duke of Newcastle, Lord W. Paulet, and numerous other high officials—military, medical, and civil. His Grace, setting all etiquette aside, advanced towards me, his hat in one hand, and kindly offered me the other, saying, “How are you, Monsieur Soyer? it is a long time since we had the pleasure of meeting.”
“True,” I replied; “not since I had the pleasure of seeing your Grace, then Lord Lincoln, at the Reform Club.”