General Pelissier again addressed me: “You may say what you like, Monsieur Soyer, but you might as well have stoned the olives.”
“Very true, general, if time had allowed. It is all very well for you to take the Malakhoff in a few minutes, but it took me four hours to make that dish.” At which reply he could not help laughing.
“Your friend General Barnard,” said he, pointing to that officer, who was sitting at the bottom of the table, “would like to taste it. Go and offer him some.”
I did so; but the general had been served. I then made a tour round the table, asking each guest, above thirty in number, whether he had been attended to.
The time was getting short, and another review—that of the English army—had to come off. The iced champagne had performed a grand rôle during the repast; all seemed highly gratified and full of animation. What a burst of enthusiasm was elicited when General Lüders rose, and proposed the health of her Majesty the Queen of England and that of the French Emperor! which enthusiasm was renewed when Sir William Codrington responded by proposing that of the Emperor Alexander.
The mot d’ordre was given, and all were soon mounted, and proceeded to the review, at which, having terminated my culinary duties, I assisted as a spectator, arriving just time enough to have a glance at the spectacle, which to my mind was superior in point of effect to that of the magnificent French army in the morning. It was in a splendid square; while the French army, though more numerous, being in a line, covered more ground, but produced less effect. I remarked this to General della Marmora, with whom I was conversing. He seemed to be of my opinion. The Scotch, with their bagpipes merrily playing, were then filing past the Etat-Major, and the vibrating sounds of their wild mountain music impressed itself for ever on my ear. It was their last song on the Crimean shore. A few minutes more, and all was over. General Lüders entered his carriage, and started full gallop, followed by his Staff. General Codrington and suite lined the fields on either side the road along which the carriage passed. On reaching the Balaklava road, which crosses the high mountain leading to the Guards’ camp, the Russian general made a full stop; so did Sir W. Codrington and suite. They bade each other adieu; and after General Lüders had returned thanks for the excellent reception he had received, Sir William said, “I hope, general, you are not over-tired?”
“No, not at all, thank you. I only felt rather cold standing still during the last review.”
This was spoken in French.
The Russian cavalcade galloped away towards the Tchernaya, whilst the English returned to head-quarters.
It was getting quite dark; the weather, which had been so warm in the morning, turned very cold—the sky looked grey, and not a soul was to be seen. I ascended the rocky and steep mountain on horseback. A few minutes after, I was in lonely solitude on the top of the plateau. Not a sign, of life was to be seen or heard; graveyards alone ornamented this desolate spot.