P.S. By the next steamer I shall return to the Camp to join the Staff I have just sent there, and terminate, I trust, with success, my culinary mission, and then return to the shores of Albion.
H.M.S.V. “Caradoc,” Constantinople, 5th July, 1855.
Mr. Editor,—Scarcely has the seal of my late painful communication had time to set, when the rocky shores of the Black Sea are moaning and re-echoing the solemn report of the minute-gun, while the foaming current of the Bosphorus is rapidly carrying to the snowy white cliffs of Albion the remains of a really great man, Field Marshal the Lord Raglan. To him, above all, I cannot but feel most grateful for the success of my undertaking in the Crimea. The last kind word and smile I received while at the seat of war were from that noble martyr to his country’s cause.
With the highest consideration, I have the honour to be,
Your most obedient servant,
A. Soyer.
P.S. The great desire of paying the last tribute of respect to the remains of that noble and brave warrior has delayed for a few days my departure for the Crimea.
One morning I had a serious discussion with one of my workmen, who declined to cook any more for the hospitals unless I gave him the same wages as my head man, Jullien, in whom I placed all my confidence, having known him for years as an honest, industrious, and well-educated man. He was much respected by all in the hospital: Lord William Paulet made much of him, as also did Dr. Cumming, Mr. Robertson, purveyor-in-chief, and, above all, Miss Nightingale and Mr. Bracebridge, for his attention to business and polite manners.
I had left a hundred pounds in his care till next morning, having that day to go to Pera about the printing of my hospital receipts. Upon my return, I learnt that he had disappeared, taking the money with him, except twenty pounds, which he gave to one of the boys: the remainder he afterwards returned. No one knew where he was gone. My first thought was to return to the hospital, and superintend the kitchen department in person. Everything must, I knew, be in great confusion, producing upon the people employed under him much the same effect as the similar defection of a general would on the eve of a battle; and such a battle, too—one that must be fought daily, with the greatest resolution.
It is indeed a question of life and death, that brave dinner-time. So long as we get it regularly, we think nothing about it; but let one day pass without satisfying those imperious natural wants—what do I say?—one day! Even an hour’s delay causes us to make several inquiries—half-an-hour, ten minutes—ay, and even less. Now, suppose I had not, by the merest chance in the world, been apprised of his departure, or had I been ill, and incapable of replacing him and his subordinates, who thought to frighten me by requiring the same wages—which, had they behaved themselves well, I might have granted;—had anything gone wrong, which could not fail in either of those events to be the case, my name and reputation would have been perilled. Thanks, however, to my lucky star, although I have experienced an immense deal of trouble in my various undertakings, I have invariably succeeded in the end. This is one of the hundreds of tribulations and disappointments I met with during my Eastern mission.