My proposition having met with the approval of the authorities, was at once forwarded to the War Office.
I also promised to submit to Commissary Filder’s notice several plans for improvement in the distribution of the meat.
“Monsieur Soyer,” said he, “anything you may propose or point out as an improvement will, so far as it is practicable, be carried out. Lose no time; the sooner you let us have it the better.”
After this interview, I went to inspect the kitchen, where I saw Mr. Fitzgerald, the purveyor, to whom I also made my report. As this is the first time I have had the pleasure of introducing this gentleman to the notice of my readers, it would be an omission on my part were I not to return my grateful acknowledgments for the readiness with which he at all times assisted me to obtain what I required for the hospitals in the Crimea. It is true he was at first rather reluctant; this I attributed to his not having received the proper instructions from the authorities.
Having the best part of the day before me, I set off at a gallop towards head-quarters, intending to keep the promise I had made Lord Raglan respecting his dilapidated culinary department, and also to make the acquaintance of M. Armand, his chef de cuisine. As I was not well acquainted with the road across the country, I made up my mind to follow the high one which passes close to head-quarters. When about half-way, I perceived a group of officers standing by the road-side round a kind of tent much like a gipsy tent, but considerably larger. This excited my interest, and I was riding towards it, when, to my astonishment, several voices called out—“Soyer! Soyer! come here—come this way!” I readily complied with the invitation, and found two or three gentlemen whom I had the pleasure of knowing. During our conversation, an old dame of a jovial appearance, but a few shades darker than the white lily, issued from the tent, bawling out, in order to make her voice heard above the noise, “Who is my new son?” to which one of the officers replied, “Monsieur Soyer, to be sure; don’t you know him?”
“God bless me, my son, are you Monsieur Soyer of whom I heard so much in Jamaica? Well, to be sure! I have sold many and many a score of your Relish and other sauces—God knows how many.”
“My dear lady,” said I, “don’t blame me for that; I assure you I am not at all offended with you for so doing, and shall allow you to sell as much more in the Crimea.”
“So I would if I could only get them. Bless me, I had a gross about ten days ago, and they are all gone; nor can I get any more for another month perhaps. Come down, my son, and take a glass of champagne with my old friend, Sir John Campbell.”
I immediately alighted, and Sir John came towards me and shook me heartily by the hand, saying, “Welcome to the seat of war, Monsieur Soyer!”
“Many thanks, general, for your kind wishes. I had the pleasure of leaving my card at Cathcart’s Hill the other day.”