I made a note of this, and next perceived that every mess took their meat separately. Some messes numbered fifteen, twenty, or even thirty. The meat was spitted upon a rough piece of wood about two feet long, and then tied as tight as possible with a strong cord. Although this was a very bad method, I did not choose to interfere, as it was important for me to show them the evil effects of their system, and ensure a reform by pointing out a better. We then went to the store-rooms, and looked over what the contractor called the mixed vegetables, though they were principally of one kind, and half of these unfit for use. After having seen the rations weighed, I sent orders to the cooks not to commence operations until I arrived. We examined all kinds of preserved meats, soups, sweetmeats, &c. I next went to see the poultry, which I found of very inferior quality, consisting principally of old fowls, badly plucked and drawn. The gizzards, heads, and feet, which make such good broth, were thrown away. Mr. Bailey, whom I had not yet seen, then entered. When I had explained what we had already done, and the plan it would be most advisable to adopt for the future, he promised to bring the contractor, that we might talk the matter over. I examined the bread, which was very good indeed.
Mr. Bailey accompanied me to the various kitchens, where I had ordered the men to proceed as usual, and the same in the extra diet kitchen. During our progress I had the pleasure of meeting and being introduced to most of the medical gentlemen as they were visiting the patients in the corridors and wards. Having been informed that Mr. Milton, the purveyor in chief, had arrived, I called at his office, but unfortunately he had just gone to some storeroom—no one could tell which. I left my compliments, and a message to say that I should call again. I went to see Dr. Cumming, and report progress, and engaged to let him taste some of my cooking the following day. My next visit was to Lord W. Paulet, whom I found surrounded by military gentlemen of all ranks. He called me in, and, in a most good-natured manner, introduced me to his visitors, saying, “Now M. Soyer is come, I fear he will feed the sick soldiers so well, that they will be sorry to recover and leave the hospital.”
“Should such prove to be the case, it will be the best of all bad complaints.”
Some of the company inquired whether I was going to the Crimea.
“I must first make my début here,” was my reply, “and then we shall see.”
“Monsieur Soyer, what can I do for you?”
“Your lordship can do what I require in two minutes. Will you be kind enough to send me a carpenter or two, and a bricklayer, to do some little matters I wish to have attended to?”
“Certainly; I will drop a line to Captain Gordon, the chief engineer, to that effect. His office is over the way—you had better go and see him.”
“Captain Gordon,” said a soldier, who brought some letters, “is gone to Pera.”
“I am happy to be able to inform your lordship that I am progressing very fast, and that every one is very obliging to me.”
“I am glad to hear that, Monsieur Soyer.”
“I suppose you could not spare time about one o’clock, to go round and see the meals served out?”
“I will try; but I fear I shall hardly have leisure. See what I have to do,” he continued, pointing to a pile of letters which the soldier had just brought in; “as Doctor Macgregor is going round with you, he will give me an account of everything.”
It was then noon, and about dinner-time. So I returned to the kitchen, where all was in the greatest confusion. Such a noise I never heard before. They were waiting for their soup and meat, and using coarse language, without making the least progress in the distribution. The market at old Billingsgate, during the first morning sale, was nothing compared to this military row. Each man had two tin cans for the soup. They kept running about and knocking against each other, in most admirable disorder. Such confusion, thought I, is enough to kill a dozen patients daily. As a natural consequence, several must go without anything; as, owing to the confusion, some of the orderly waiters get more and others less than their allowance. Any attempt to alter this at the time, would have been as wise as endeavouring to stop the current of the Bosphorus. As I did not wish to lose the chance of seeing the rations served out in the wards, I went for Dr. Macgregor, and we called for Mr. Milton—but the latter had not returned. I then fetched Miss Nightingale, and we went through the wards. The process of serving out the rations, though not quite such a noisy scene as that I had before witnessed, was far from being perfect. In the first place, the patients were allowed to eat the meat before the soup. As I was confident that this could not be by the doctor’s order, I asked the reason. The reply was, “we have only one plate.” (What they called a plate, was a round and deep tin dish, which held a pound of meat and a pint of soup.) I therefore recommended them to cut the meat as usual into small pieces, and pour the pint of boiling soup over it. This method had the advantage of keeping the meat hot.
“It will enable the patients,” I said, “to eat both the soup and meat warm, instead of cold—the daily practice, in consequence of the slow process of carving.”
“Very true,” said Dr. Macgregor. “Nay, more, the soup will comfort and dispose the stomach for the better digestion of the meat and potatoes. When the men are very hungry, they will often swallow their food without properly masticating it, and the meat is also probably tough.”
We then tasted both the soup and meat. The former was thin and without seasoning; the latter, mutton, tough and tasteless. The potatoes were watery. All these defects I promised to rectify the next day. We proceeded to a ward where they complained bitterly that the meat was never done; in fact, it was quite raw, and then of course the cook was blamed.
“Now,” said I to Miss Nightingale, “I will wager anything that we shall find some parts very well done, and some, no doubt, too much done, though it is all cooked in the same caldron.”
“How do you account for that, Monsieur Soyer? is it owing to the bad quality of the meat?”
“Not at all; that may come from the same sheep, and yet vary.”
At another mess, the meat was well done; a small piece at the end only being over-cooked.
“I will explain this to you, madam,” said I. “I remarked this morning that the man tied all the joints together very tight, after having put them upon a ‘skewer,’ as he calls it, almost as large as a wooden leg. The consequence is, that when the meat is thrown into boiling water, it is not properly done; the meat swells, and it is impossible for the heat or the water even to get at it.”
“Ah, I noticed that several of the men did exactly as you say this morning,” said Miss Nightingale. “The parts which are well done were placed loose upon the stick; and this explains the mystery—but I shall alter that to-morrow.”
Having afterwards inspected several extra-diet kitchens, and tasted various things, I perceived what I could accomplish, both as regarded convalescents and extra diets. Miss Nightingale having again offered to render any assistance in her power, left us; as she had a great deal to attend to. I retraced my steps to Dr. Cumming’s, and stated my opinion of the present system of cooking; and explained what I proposed doing, of all of which he approved highly. I then returned to the kitchen, and sent a requisition for six rations of everything allowed for making the soup. I proceeded thus:—
To eight pints of water I put four pounds of meat, a quarter of a pound of barley, a little salt and pepper, and the allowance of vegetables, and in about an hour I produced a