But stop! near him was a guardian angel, sitting at the foot of his bed, and most devotedly engaged pencilling down his last wishes to be despatched to his homely friends or relations. A watch and a few more trinkets were consigned to the care of the writer; a lighted lamp was held by another person, and threw a painful yellowish coloris over that mournful picture, which a Rembrandt alone could have traced, but which everybody, as long as the world lasts, would have understood, felt, and admired. It was then near two o’clock in the morning.
Approaching, I made inquiries of Miss Nightingale as to the complaint of her patient, when she replied in French, that the poor fellow was given up by the doctors, and was not likely to get through the night; “so I have been engaged noting down his last wishes, in order to forward them to his relatives.”
The next morning, Miss Nightingale, Mr. Bracebridge, and myself had a long conversation respecting our plan of operations in the coming campaign. Having settled everything to our satisfaction, I once more went round the hospitals; and, upon reaching home, I heard that Mr. Robertson had arrived. He had been represented to me, by some person or other, as a very old and infirm man, wearing green spectacles. At the time I heard this, I was in the company of a very illustrious personage, who was visiting my kitchen, and he also listened to the serjeant giving this description, and very justly observed, that for such a fatiguing situation a young man was required. “Now,” he continued, pointing from the kitchen door to the building, “observe the tremendous distance it is from one end of the building to the other. A purveyor should go round once a-day, independent of the business of his office. I tell you what—I have found out this much myself, that the head, when properly screwed on, lasts much longer than the legs; and when both are required at the same time, there is an additional strain.”
While we were discussing this important subject, in walked Mr. Milton, accompanied by an old gentleman, as described by the serjeant, and a third person. To my surprise, Mr. Robertson was not the reverend old man. He happened to be one of Mr. Robertson’s friends, instead of himself.[12] Instead of being an old man, I found him the very person wanted—about thirty years of age—full of vigour and intelligence. In a short time I was perfectly acquainted with his qualifications for the office to which he had been appointed—requiring, as I said before, so much bodily exercise. The few days I had to remain at Scutari enabled us to come to a perfect understanding.
“Monsieur Soyer,” said Mr. Milton, “I now leave you in very good hands. I have explained everything to Mr. Robertson respecting your department, and I am certain he will be kind enough to attend to it in your absence. I am off for England to-morrow; therefore, fare you well; take care of yourself in the Crimea. I have also spoken to Mr. Robertson about your stoves; he will forward them to the Crimea as soon as they arrive.”
“I wish you a pleasant journey, Mr. Milton. I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you in London.”
Mr. Robertson accompanied me round the various stores, and after passing all in review, and noting what would be required in future, we parted. I felt fully convinced that my former efforts would not be destroyed, as I had at first feared. The next day we went to the General and the Palace Hospitals and Kululee, and made similar arrangements. I now felt almost free of the hospitals, though my intention was to run down from the Crimea now and then to have a look at them, as the least mismanagement would create confusion. I then requested Lord W. Paulet to devote a few hours, before my departure, to visiting the other hospitals, and he very kindly fixed upon that afternoon. Mr. Robertson, Lord W. Paulet, the Hon. Captain Bourke, his lordship’s aide-de-camp, and myself rode over to the various hospitals, and I pointed out the improvements I had made, all of which Lord W. Paulet considered very effective and judicious, and promised that they should be followed up, referring me at the same time to Mr. Robertson. “That gentleman,” he said, “is now major-domo in the purveyor’s department.”
I told Lord W. Paulet that Mr. Robertson and myself had already settled everything, and we rode back to the Barrack Hospital. Lord W. Paulet very kindly invited me to dine with him, and I much regretted that time did not allow of my accepting the invitation, as we had to leave the next morning, and I wished to see Miss Nightingale and Mr. Bracebridge; but I promised to return and spend a part of the evening with him, which I did, and very merrily too. I must say that, in all the transactions connected with my mission to the Crimea, to no gentleman am I more indebted than to Lord W. Paulet, whose gracious reception, continued kindness, and the extreme confidence he placed in me, gave me such extraordinary encouragement that it greatly tended to my success: a failure might have been the result, had he treated me otherwise. Lord W. Paulet gave me the promised letters, and signed the following paper:—