CHAPTER IV
THE CRIMEA
Our ships had some experience of attacking forts (in the Black Sea) on the 17th of October 1854. We did not damage the forts. On the other hand, we received a good dose in return: wooden walls and granite forts are different things. Then, again, the combined Fleets must indeed have paralysed the Russian Fleet, which was so much inferior. But it was a pity that when we sailed for the Baltic (and still more so when we got there) we were led to think of mighty deeds in store for us. When our medals were presented to us, with the bit of blue and yellow ribbon, many felt that they had not deserved them: and the trinkets were kept in hiding.
I remained in England until the following January. Then, being quite re-established in health, I received orders to rejoin the Princess Royal off Sebastopol. It was while I was at home that the news of Balaclava and Inkerman arrived. Many of our friends and relations were laid low on those battlefields. I can well recall the wave of mixed joy and sorrow that swept over England as the detailed accounts came slowly to hand. My uncle, Lord George Paget, at the head of his regiment, the Fourth Light Dragoons, commanded the second line in that fatal and memorable charge, where his regiment was well-nigh destroyed. It was to him, as he was riding off the field, that were addressed those words by the French Marshal, which have since passed into proverbial use: “C’est magnifique; mais cela n’est pas la guerre.” One of Lord George’s troopers, who (I think) was his servant, was made prisoner, and for some reason was taken before the Tzar of Russia. Observing the man standing six foot two in his stockings, His Imperial Majesty inquired what regiment he had belonged to, and, being told that he was in a Light-Cavalry regiment, said, “Well, if you are a Light-Cavalry man, what the devil are the heavies?”
I took passage to the Crimea in a hired transport, and we sailed from Plymouth early in January 1855. We carried a few troops, and a large quantity of stores for the army. Touching at Gibraltar and Malta, we arrived at Constantinople after a three weeks’ passage.
I shall never forget my first sight of the entrance to the Golden Horn. Those who have seen it will bear me out when I say that of its kind the view is second to none in the world. It was a beautiful still morning, and as the sun rose and reflected its golden rays on all the minaret towers and the great edifice of St. Sophia, one seemed in fairyland. The caiques, the colouring, the costumes, and the novelty of this oriental scene—all enchanted me.
Before leaving England I had been told to quit the transport at Constantinople, and to report myself on board the Carodoc, the man-of-war appointed to our Ambassador as his despatch vessel. I was most kindly received by dear old Derriman, the Captain, who told me to present myself up at the Embassy, where Lord Stratford de Redcliffe wished me to stay until I could get a passage to rejoin my ship on the Black Sea.
That great man made a deep impression on me. Tall and upright, he was as fine a figure as ever stepped: a man of perfect features and iron will: a grand seigneur; and the world knew it. He kindly told me to make myself at home, and to remain at the Embassy until he was ready to start in the Carodoc for the Crimea. He was going to the front to hold an Investiture of the Bath, and would probably sail in two or three days. This gave me intense pleasure: I rejoiced at the prospect of becoming acquainted with Constantinople. Lady Stratford de Redcliffe and her charming daughters made things doubly pleasant. That most lovely and engaging of women, Lady George Paget, my cousin (aunt by marriage), also was staying at the Embassy. Among the staff of the Embassy were many men who made their marks in after life—Odo Russell, Allison, Count Pisani, and others,—from whom, one and all, I received the kindest attention. It was indeed an interesting time: I saw everything, and had a sort of general lascia passare.
I was soon called upon to assist in the correspondence department at the Embassy, and many were the despatches which I copied. Every one was overwhelmed with business, and I was only too glad to render what assistance I could. His Lordship was often at work most of the night, receiving and dictating despatches; his breakfast hour varied from nine to twelve, according to his hours of rest. The Embassy at Constantinople in those days was, I imagine, a position of unique and supreme importance in diplomacy. The postal and the telegraphic services were in their infancy. In copying Lord Stratford’s despatches I was not long in discovering how frequently he acted on his own initiative and responsibility, without reference to the powers that were at home. No such independence would now be tolerated, nor would it be possible. It is one thing to recommend your views before the home authorities for approval; quite another, to act on the spur of the moment, and to take the sole responsibility on your own shoulders, as Lord Stratford did. The Turks held him in unbounded fear and respect.
The Bosphorus was a great sight. Ships of war were passing to and fro; transport and provision ships were constantly going and coming. With Lady Stratford, I went over to Scutari Hospital to see the crowds of wounded and invalids from the front, and was presented to Miss Nightingale. How she worked!