A final trial—Distribution of the Order of the Bath—Letter from Lord Gough—Farewell to the battle-field—Bonfires—Grand coup-d’œil—Lord W. Paulet’s farewell party—Parting visits—Depredations—Morning parade catechism—Stuart’s canteen—The Theatre Royal of the Fourth Division—The scenes shifted—Soyer’s new invention—Pilgrimage through a deserted camp—Sanatorium Hospital—Six cemeteries—Trip to Odessa—Return to Balaklava—A pleasant surprise—The yacht Sylphide—Letter from W. H. Russell—Departures—The Nightingale Monument—The last day—General Codrington’s letter—The keys of Balaklava given up to the Russians—The place retaken—A parting invitation—Good-by to the Crimea.
THE following day I begged Sir William Codrington to fix a day for my final trial, when I intended to place twelve stoves in the 56th Regiment, then quartered at the back of the vineyard facing head-quarters, and thus cook for the whole regiment. This would afford Sir W. Codrington an opportunity of judging of their efficacy, and enable him to give his opinion upon the subject. Lord Gough had arrived to distribute the Order of the Bath; and, as his lordship was to remain a couple of days longer in the Crimea, I was anxious that he should be present at the inspection. The following Sunday was fixed for the purpose, and the inspection was to take place after divine service. Accordingly, Lord Gough, Sir W. Codrington, General Wyndham, General Barnard, General Garrett, Colonel de Bathe, Colonel Blane, Colonel Walker, Captain Ponsonby, with their respective Staffs, were present, and tasted the various kinds of food I had caused to be prepared by two soldiers only for the whole regiment, about six hundred strong. About thirty gentlemen had assembled; and they all expressed in high terms their satisfaction and approval, not only of the quality of the food produced from the soldiers’ rations with so little trouble, but also of the small quantity of fuel consumed in its preparation. In corroboration of this, I the next day received the following letter from Lord Gough:—
Lord Gough begs, with his compliments, to inform Monsieur Soyer that he had much pleasure in seeing his new cooking-stoves for the army. Any measures which Monsieur Soyer may have in view to simplify the cooking arrangements of the soldier will always meet with Lord Gough’s hearty approval.
Sebastopol, 10th June, 1856.
The French as well as the English camps diminished daily. Each evening was ushered in by large bonfires, indicative of the early departure of either French or English troops. This style of farewell to the battle-field was generally adopted in both armies; but some of the French, not satisfied with burning their lumber and loose wood, which was very properly allowed by the authorities for those joyful volcanoes, commenced setting fire to their huts, kitchens, &c.; for which they were very severely reprimanded by their general, who, instead of allowing them to start the following day, as intended, kept them in camp to the last—compelling them to bivouac upon the spot, and thus fully enjoy the consequences of their folly, having no kitchens to cook in, nor huts to lie under. This was a good lesson for the remainder of the army.
The Fourth Division, under the command of Lord William Paulet, received orders to depart. Every regiment distinguished itself more or less by its peculiar style of bonfire. They were to be fired simultaneously on the eve of their departure. Some were raised to the height of thirty feet; one even exceeded that, with a base of at least sixty feet in circumference, being composed of not less than ten or twelve tons of wood and rubbish, brought together by the men of the 57th Regiment, who worked very hard for some days in getting it ready. The night arrived, all the bonfires, with the exception of the large one, which was kept for the last, were fired; and when the smaller ones were about half consumed, this monster was ignited in four places. The coup-d’œil was indeed grand. The burning of Sebastopol had not offered such a column of fire in one spot; added to which, all the regiments composing the division had joined, and were dancing round that mountain of flame—shouting, singing, playing on marrow-bones and cleavers, and upon hundreds of tin camp-kettles as a substitute for drums. The camp was richly illuminated for miles around till about ten o’clock, when, as usual, all mustered in military order. The burning sky had recovered its former azure splendour; the stars were twinkling and shooting; and the next day nothing remained to tell the tale to the new-comers but a kind of large black seal, about eighty feet in circumference.
That evening I had the pleasure of joining a farewell party, given by Lord W. Paulet to a number of friends at his head-quarters. The time passed very merrily and agreeably, leaving a most delightful impression upon the minds of all.
The next morning, at daybreak, the whole of the division were on their way to Balaklava. A long red line was seen marching in the distance; the sound of the bands playing “Cheer, boys, cheer,” was faintly heard, gradually receding from both sight and hearing. Those brave fellows were then off for good. The Guards had left their camp some days before; but they went in detachments—the Coldstreams first, the Grenadier Guards next, and the Fusiliers last. I paid my respectful farewell visits to Lord Rokeby, General Craufurd, Colonels Drummond, Foley, &c. &c.
Upon this occasion, Colonel Foley invited me to lunch at their grand mess-room, which invitation I accepted with great pleasure. Every one being on the move, invitations to dinner entirely disappeared from the order of the day. The rations were the only provisions which graced the last day’s bill of fare. Still, the salt pork, beef, and the fresh meat were very good, and highly relished by a Crimean appetite: added to which, the remains of a good English cheese, a salad à la Zouave, and good English draught ale, completed the sumptuous gala. While freely partaking of the gallant colonel’s hospitality, a number of officers joined us; amongst whom I recognised the scion of a celebrated epicure, who sat next me, and commenced manipulating in his plate a most relishing sauce. Upon tasting this, I could not resist exclaiming—
“Oh! Sefton, Sefton! may your noble ashes repose in peace in your tomb! The glory of your name has not faded: your grandson, the youthful Lord Sefton, is an epicure!”