“Well, your Grace—cela est à la volonté de Dieu—at present I am happy to say I have not any fears on that head, and am quite resigned to whatever Providence may dictate. Once more I beg to reiterate my feelings of gratitude, and bid your Grace and your illustrious family adieu.”
As it was nearly one o’clock, I called upon Mr. Ramsay, who had all my letters ready. He did me the honour to introduce me to General Vivian, of the Turkish Contingent, and his brother, Captain Ramsay, the general’s aide-de-camp. Anticipating the pleasure of meeting those gentlemen in the East, I departed with the best wishes of all.
Mr. Ramsay gave me a letter for the Honourable Mrs. Herbert, to whom I was anxious to pay a visit, well aware of the important information I could gather from that benevolent lady, who was in constant communication with the hospitals in the East, and also with Miss Nightingale. I was very kindly received; but, instead of giving me an encouraging prospect of success, that lady very candidly informed me that the number of letters she daily received were most unsatisfactory, and that she did not think it possible for me to restore order in the cooking department at the great barrack hospital. “The difficulties you will encounter,” said she, “are incalculable.”
“So I anticipate,” was my reply; “but I must observe, that I love difficulties, in order to surmount them. And with the power so graciously conferred upon me by Lord Panmure, I cannot fail to do some good, if my health does not fail me.”
“I hope,” said Mrs. Herbert, “you will succeed, and shall be happy to hear of an amelioration. When do you think of going?”
“To-morrow.” Bidding her adieu, and thanking her for her kind reception, I retired.
On reaching home, I found the promised letters from Mr. Stafford, all my luggage packed, and was on the point of starting, when I learned that the gentleman who was going with me as secretary, and had his passport ready, declined to accompany me. His relations and friends had persuaded him not to go, the fever being so bad there, and so many deaths occurring daily. I was thus placed in an awkward position, and was, moreover, pestered at home by intrusive visitors, and no end of ridiculous letters. I thought of starting alone; but, upon reflection, I decided upon passing the evening at the Adelaide Hotel, at London Bridge, and in the morning looking out for another party; thus, to my great annoyance, losing another day. To start alone without a first-class companion for so long a journey was a sad affair. I must observe that I had previously engaged two young men, at high wages, as cooks, one of whom declined going to Scutari, but did not mind the Crimea; the other fell ill. Thus, my prospects on the eve of my departure were anything but favourable.
Next morning, while driving along Piccadilly, I met a friend, who, in congratulating me upon my proposed journey, and wishing me success in my undertaking, said, “So Mr. L—— is going with you as secretary, is he not?”
“No, he is not! he has left me in the lurch at the last minute; and, my dear fellow, I can tell you what, there is a chance for you—it is only for two or three months—you will be well paid, and all expenses defrayed.”
“It is very kind of you to make me the offer,” he replied; “but I cannot leave my business at a minute’s notice. How long could you give me to prepare?”