THE next morning we started as agreed upon. On arriving at Scutari, I met a soldier who informed me that a house in Cambridge-street was being prepared for my reception. “It is not two minutes’ walk from here,” said he; “will you go and see it?”

“Thank you, not this morning; my friend is in a great hurry. When will it be ready?”

“To-morrow, or next day, at the latest.”

“That will do very well. Where can I find you if I want to see you?”

“At the Engineers’ office; my name is Corporal Hardy.”

“I thank you.”

On our way to Hyder Pacha, we met Mr. Bracebridge, talking to Dr. MacHree, the head doctor at that hospital; both of which gentlemen I very much wished to see. Upon being introduced to Mr. Bracebridge, I recognised him as an old acquaintance of my friend, the late Baronet Sir George Chetwynd, of Greedon Hall, Staffordshire, whom he frequently visited. He informed me that Miss Nightingale had heard of my arrival, and that she would be much pleased to see me.

“I was going to pay my respects,” said I, “to Mademoiselle this afternoon after post-time.”

“Oh, that will do very well,” he replied: “she will have great pleasure in seeing you.”

As the Doctor was on his way to head-quarters, and Mr. Bracebridge was going in another direction, we continued our journey, which, though short, was very fatiguing, the roads being very bad in consequence of a continuance of heavy rain. At last we arrived at the hospital, which, although the smallest, is certainly the most elegant. It was one of the Sultan’s Kiosques, and was divided into three departments—one for the officers, and two for the men. About three hundred and forty men and twenty officers were there at the time, as I was told; the latter complained very much about their cooking, the inferiority of which was unavoidable, as there was only a very small kitchen, badly built, which smoked all day, and was without ventilation. It was there that the Duke of Cambridge and staff remained during his indisposition; but I must observe that the Duke had a first-rate culinary artist, who went through the campaign with him. The Duke was only attended by a few gentlemen, and consequently it had not at the time of my visit twenty occupants. Nothing could be done properly for them, till I had built a rough wooden kitchen, and placed a civilian cook under the orders of the doctor and purveyor who had the regulation of the diets. This hospital, though very pretty, was never considered healthy, it being surrounded by gardens and marshy meadows.

After inspecting the mess-kitchen, we retired, and thence went to the General Hospital. The doctor-in-chief not being there, we were shown round by a staff-doctor. I found the kitchen very dark, and badly built, for such a number of patients; but the distribution of food and the regulation of the same were on a much better footing than at the Barrack Hospital. On noticing this to the head cook, he gave the credit to Dr. O’Flaherty. Upon being introduced to that gentleman, I recognised him as one of my visitors in Dublin, at the same time as Brigadier-General Lord W. Paulet. I promised to have the kitchen altered as soon as it could possibly be done, and started for the Barrack Hospital to visit Miss Nightingale. As Signor Roco had settled his business, he left me and returned to Pera; consequently, I entered the great Barrack Hospital alone. The entrance was crowded with officers of rank and medical gentlemen. The High-street, facing the General’s quarters, was literally crammed with soldiers, more or less conscious of the state of warlike affairs. Most of them kept vandyking from the gin palace to their quarters, their red jackets forming a strange contrast to the quiet dress and solemn air of the Moslem soldiers upon duty.

After shaking hands with some officers and doctors whom I had the pleasure of knowing in England, I inquired of a sentry for Miss Nightingale’s apartment, which he at once pointed out to me. On my entering the ante-room, a Soeur de CharitÉ, whom I addressed, informed me that somebody was with that lady. She added, “I am aware that Miss Nightingale wishes to see you, so I will let her know that you are here.” I hoped to have a few minutes to myself in order to take an observation of this sanctuary of benevolence; but my project was defeated by my being immediately admitted; and this compels me to trace this picture from memory.

Upon entering the room, I was saluted by a lady, and not doubting that this was our heroine, “Madam,” said I, “allow me to present my humble respects. I presume I have the honour of addressing Miss Nightingale.”

“Yes, sir. Monsieur Soyer, I believe?”

“The same, Madam.”

“Pray take a seat. I hear you had a rough voyage out.”

“Very much so, especially from Marseilles to Ajaccio.”

“So I heard, Monsieur Soyer.”

“I have brought several parcels and letters for you; among the latter, one from the Duchess of Sutherland.”

After having perused this epistle, Miss Nightingale remarked: “I believe her Grace is right; you will no doubt be able to render great service in the kitchen department.”

“For which I shall need the good-will and assistance of all the heads of this monster establishment; and I must beg, above all things, that you who have already done so much for the sick and the wounded, will be kind enough to give me the benefit of your valuable experience.”

“I will, Monsieur Soyer; but first of all, I should advise you to see Lord William Paulet, Dr. Cumming, and the Purveyor-in-Chief, Mr. Milton.”

“Many thanks for your kind advice. I had the pleasure of seeing Lord William yesterday, as well as Dr. Cumming. To Mr. Milton I shall pay my respects upon leaving you.”

“You had better do so; for the principal part of your business you will have to transact with those gentlemen.”

“A very excellent remark, which I shall not fail to attend to.”

“Another gentleman you must see in the purveyor’s department, is Mr. Tucker. You will then be able to commence operations.”

“Very true: I shall not think of commencing before I am well acquainted with every one in each department that has reference to the cooking. I shall submit every sample of diets, with a statement of the quantity and kind of ingredients of which they are composed, for the approval and opinion of the medical authorities; as I shall have to deal with patients, and not with epicures.

“Perfectly right,” said Miss Nightingale.

“That no time may be lost, I should very much like this afternoon to visit the kitchens now in use, inspect the stores, and procure a statement of the daily rations allowed to each patient, if I can have one of the inspectors to go round with me.”

“Certainly you can; I will send for somebody who will be happy to accompany you.”

“Perhaps you would favour us with your company, as I should be most happy to attend to any suggestion you might like to make.”

“I will go with you with great pleasure; but here comes Doctor Macgregor, the under-superintendent, who will be our guide. He told me that he had met you before.”

“Yes; we met yesterday at Lord William Paulet’s.”

“Doctor,” said Miss Nightingale, “Monsieur Soyer wishes you to accompany him round the various kitchens and store-rooms.”

“I will do that with the greatest pleasure; but he had better be introduced to Mr. Milton and to Mr. Tucker. Mr. Milton is out, but Mr. Tucker will do instead.”

Our visitorial pilgrimage then commenced. We first visited Miss Nightingale’s dietary kitchen, in which I immediately recognised the whole of the little camp batterie de cuisine which my friend Comte told me that the Duke of Cambridge had presented to the hospital. Justice was indeed done to it, for every separate article of which it was composed was in use. Miss Nightingale had a civilian cook as well as an assistant. Everything appeared in as good order as could be expected, considering what there was to be done. I noticed the very bad quality of the charcoal, which smoked terribly, and was nothing but dust. Of course, this interfered materially with the expedition of the cooking, which is a subject of vital importance in an hospital, where punctuality is as essential as quality. Addressing the Doctor, I said, “Suppose you have fifty or a hundred patients under your direction—according to the disease you vary the diet, and according to the state of the patient you vary the hour of his meal.”

“Of course we do.”

“Then, this defect, simple as it may appear, should be reported and immediately remedied.”

“The only excuse I can find for the rations and diets not being ready at the time required is entirely owing to the bad quality of the charcoal, which, as regards time, would deceive the best of cooks, and is quite sufficient to upset the best of culinary arrangements. However, I will take note of the various things which strike me as being out of order or bad, and this will give me a good chance of effecting an immediate improvement.”

“You are perfectly right,” said Miss Nightingale. “I assure you that Dumont, my cook, is always complaining of the charcoal, which, as you see, is so full of dust that it will not burn; and some days he cannot manage to cook at all with it.”

“Well, I will endeavour to remedy this great evil.”

“Doctor,” said Miss Nightingale, “you had better tell Monsieur Soyer to whom he is to apply in this matter.”

“Oh, Mr. Milton or Mr. Tucker will be able to give him the necessary information. We will now visit another.”

About half-way down the long corridor, we found another extra diet kitchen, managed by soldiers; but it was far from being in good order—on the contrary, all was in the greatest confusion. The kitchen was full of smoke, and everything was boiling too fast. In consequence of the bad quality of the charcoal, a wall of bricks had been raised round each stove, and thus wood and charcoal were used ad libitum, burning the rice-pudding, and over-doing everything. In fact, everything had the disagreeable flavour of being burnt. As I did not wish to alarm them, I merely remarked that the fire was too fierce; and, on the following morning, I took one of my men with me to teach them how to manage better.

We then visited several other kitchens, all of which were, more or less, in the same state. To this there was, however, a single exception, to which I must do justice by observing, that, though not quite perfect as a model—being short of cooking utensils—still it was clean, and everything we tasted was far superior in flavour. Nothing was burnt, except a slight catch in the rice-pudding; but this was a mere trifle, compared with the way the viands were spoilt in the other places. The beef-tea, chicken-broth, &c., were nicely done, although they all wanted seasoning. At my first visit to the various diet kitchens, I tasted the soups made for the patients, which I found quite free from the slightest suspicion of seasoning, and consequently tasteless. I then asked to have a couple of basins filled with this. To one I added the requisite seasoning, and requested Doctor Cumming to taste of both. The Doctor complied with my request, and could scarcely believe it possible that such an improvement could be effected by so trifling an addition. He then expressed his approval and decided that in future the cook should season the soup, instead of leaving the same to the irregular tastes of the patients.

“Well,” said Doctor Macgregor, “this is by the doctor’s order, you may be sure.”

“I have not the pleasure of knowing that gentleman, yet, though I admire his kitchen very much, and must admit that he keeps it in good order, I shall certainly tell him when I see him that I do not agree with his method of not seasoning the broths, &c., while in course of preparation. It is very true they ought not to be too highly seasoned; but it is the province of the cook, as I before said, to season for the patient, and not the patient for the cook. Instead of giving so much salt in the ward, I would allow each patient but little or none at all; because in all cookery it is the combination of good and wholesome ingredients properly blended which constitutes the best of broths or diets; and this rule holds good for the bill of fare of all nations.”

“This seems logical enough,” said the Doctor; “nor do I approve of the quantity of salt and pepper given in the wards.”

“But, Doctor, there is another evil; some people are more partial to salt than others, and, only a few minutes ago, I saw a patient begging his neighbour to give him a portion of his share.”

“I am aware they do that, Monsieur Soyer.”

“Be kind enough to favour me with the name of the doctor.”

“His name is Dr. Taylor; he will be glad to see you, Monsieur Soyer,” said Miss Nightingale, smiling. “I can assure you he is a great cook, and manages his own kitchen. He comes down here two or three times every day. He is attending a board this morning, or he would certainly have been here.”

“If that is the case, we shall have no difficulty in understanding each other. I will do myself the pleasure of calling upon him.”

“You will be sure to find him in his office at nine o’clock to-morrow,” said Dr. Macgregor. We then crossed the yard to the general kitchen, as Miss Nightingale called it. Upon entering it, I found, to my surprise, a superb kitchen, built, I believe, by the Turks, and fitted up with twenty copper boilers, set in white marble, holding about fifty gallons each. About sixteen soldier cooks were employed cleaning the boilers, to make the tea, as the men’s dinners had just been served.

“This is a magnificent kitchen,” I observed to Miss Nightingale. “I was not aware there was anything of the kind here.”

“So it is, Monsieur Soyer; but see how badly everything is managed.”

“Well, this can be remedied.”

On going to the top of the marble steps, about eight in number, I perceived that every boiler was made of yellow copper, and screwed to its marble bed. I immediately inquired about the tinning, as I perceived the boilers were much in want of this. Copper is, as I have before remarked, the worst metal which could possibly be employed for hospital uses. I took notes of all, and having inquired of the men how they cooked the patients’ dinners, I told them to go on as usual; and that I would be with them at seven the next morning, to put them in the right way. As it was getting late, I was about taking my departure, when Miss Nightingale informed me that there was a similar kitchen on the other side of the yard, and advised me to go and see it.

“Like this one, do you say, Mademoiselle?”

“Yes, exactly like it.”

“You astonish me. Of course I will go directly. I shall, however, be sorry to trouble you to come so far.”

“Oh, no trouble at all, Monsieur Soyer. I am much interested in any improvement or amelioration which may be introduced in so important a department.”

We did, indeed, find just such another kitchen as the last, partitioned off in the centre. “This one,” said I, “will be large enough for all that we require.”

“You don’t say so,” observed Dr. Macgregor.

“Quite large enough, I can assure you; the only inconvenience is its great distance from the building. However, I shall try and manage somehow. This kitchen is cleaner than the other, and the head man appears more intelligent; still there is a great deal to be done, in order to set the whole to rights.”

“I was certain you would say so,” Miss Nightingale observed.

“Oh, but I am far from despairing. Indeed, I feel confident that I shall succeed. All I require is, that they will go on just as if I had not arrived. I shall come to-morrow at seven o’clock, and watch their proceedings, without removing any one from his post, and have no doubt I shall be able to introduce a much better system.”

After we had examined this kitchen, Miss Nightingale prepared to leave us. I promised to call upon her the following day, to go round the wards, and see the dinners served.

As the lady was leaving, I said, “I have an appointment with Lord W. Paulet at eleven, and one with Dr. Cumming at half-past—therefore I will afterwards do myself the honour of fetching you, Mademoiselle.”

“That will be the best plan; and probably his lordship will come with us.”

With this the lady withdrew. Dr. Macgregor and myself next went to the purveyor’s department, to see Mr. Tucker, whom I found to be an old London friend of mine, of ten years’ standing. “You are about the last person, friend Soyer,” said Mr. Tucker, “whom I should have expected to see here.”

“I am indeed in luck, as I hear you are the gentleman from whom I shall probably require the most assistance.”

“Anything you may require, M. Soyer, I have orders to let you have; and you may rest assured that Mr. Milton and myself will assist you to the utmost of our power. There is another person here who knows you—Mr. Bailey, the storekeeper.”

“These are indeed good tidings. To-morrow, Mr. Tucker, I shall be here early, to see how they manage the cooking. Perhaps you will be kind enough to allow some of your men to show me the various store-rooms and the fresh provisions.”

“I will make that all right, you may depend upon it.”

As my house was not quite ready I crossed over to Pera, and in the evening went to the English Embassy, to settle some business with Signor Roco Vido, and to ascertain whether Lady Stratford had fixed the day for our visit to the hospital at Kululee. This was to be my last night in Pera, as my house at Scutari was to be ready the following day.