Since writing to you my last letter we have received orders to repair on board the Ulysses, and proceed to Cork to join the St. Domingo division of the expedition, under the command of General Whyte.
Dr. Master and myself had our baggage put on board this ship in the river Thames, and we are waiting in the daily expectation of her arrival at Spithead.
Portsmouth verifies, to our experience, all that we had heard of its unpleasantness, and vulgar immorality. The great objects, which call forth the attention of strangers, are the dock-yard, the Haslar hospital, and the fine walk upon the ramparts. All these we have visited, likewise South-Sea castle, and the Forton and Porchester prisons: nor have we neglected that new modern messenger the telegraph, by which intelligence can be conveyed, from this place to the Admiralty, at Charing-cross, in the short period of ten minutes.
Having thus exhausted all the novelty of the town and its environs, it only remains to us to lapse into the dull round of the place. It is said that in days of peace, long grass grows upon the streets. In time of war they are more trodden; but, even then, the busy activity of the place occurs only at intervals, such as when a fleet comes in, or is about to sail: at which periods the town becomes all crowd and hurry, for a few days, and then suddenly reverts to a languid intermission of dulness and inactivity.
In respect to streets, houses, markets, and traffic, Portsmouth is not unlike other country towns, but Portsmouth-point, Portsea-common, and some other parts of the town have peculiarities which seem to sanction the celebrity the place has acquired. In some quarters, Portsmouth is not only filthy and crowded, but crowded with a class of low and abandoned beings, who seem to have declared open war against every habit of decency and decorum. The riotous, drunken, and immoral scenes of this place exceed, perhaps, all others. Commonly gross obscenity and intoxication preserve enough of diffidence to seek the concealment of night, and, assuming a kind of decency, strive to hide themselves from the public eye: but, here, hordes of profligate females are seen reeling in drunkenness, or plying upon the streets with shocking immodesty in open day. These daughters of Cypria are not only of manners peculiar, but likewise of such peculiar figure and apparel, that it were difficult, in any other part of England, to find a correct resemblance of them.
To form to yourself an idea of these tender ornaments of the fair-sex, imagine a being of more than Amazonian stature, having a crimson countenance, emblazoned with all the effrontery of Cyprian confidence, and broad Bacchanalian folly; give to her bold visage the warlike features of two wounded cheeks, a tumid nose, scarred and battered brows, and a pair of blackened eyes, with deeply reddened balls; then add to her sides a pair of brawny arms, fit to encounter a Colossus, and set her upon two ancles like the fixed supporters of a gate: by way of apparel, put upon her a loose flying cap, a man’s black hat, a torn neckerchief, stone rings on her fingers, and a dirty white, or tawdry flowered gown, with short apron, and a pink petticoat: thus, will you have something very like the figure of “Sweet Poll of Portsmouth.”
My visit to the dock-yard was of a nature highly gratifying. I contemplated this vast depôt of stores; this great workshop of our navy, as the emblem of our nation’s glory. I regarded each spot with all the enthusiastic veneration of a Briton, proud of his country’s greatness, and of the splendid and heroic achievements of its defenders.
The Tigre, ship of war, lately taken from the French, by Lord Bridport, being in dock, we had the opportunity of going on board, to witness the injuries she had sustained from the thunderbolts of Britain. Her shattered condition bespake, in strong expression, the terrible effects of a close-fought action at sea. Yet we were told that all she had suffered was trivial, compared to what is seen, in many vessels, after a battle. If so, it is equally matter of surprise that such vessels should be kept afloat, as that any should ever have been constructed capable of withstanding the destructive batteries now brought against them.
While examining the many wounds of the Tigre, my mind called up, in vivid association, the late noble retreat made by our gallant admiral Cornwallis, which I have always thought did him singular credit. Conducted as it was, it had all the merit of a great victory, and I well remember that, at the first moment of perusing the dispatches concerning it, I was impressed with a high sense of that officer’s judgment, and his valour, and felt that I should ever retain the highest respect for his professional talents. To have defended an inferior fleet, against such unequal force, and to have brought every ship safe into port, argues a degree of intrepid deliberation, of address, and of steady valour, which can only be found in a great commander. To have brought in the fast-sailing vessels of the squadron would have been meritorious: but to have dropped astern, with these, and caused them to bear the blows, in protection of the slower vessels, whilst they made the best of the wind; and, thus, to have saved the whole, was doubly honorable. It was great and bold, and worthy the brother of our brave and long-esteemed Marquis, whose high and well-appreciated talents are so universally acknowledged, and so increased in splendour, by the humanity and benevolence of his nature. That two such distinguished commanders, in the different branches of our service, should be found in the same family, is no less honorable to themselves than gratifying to their country. Of such men England has just cause to be proud.
My visit to Haslar hospital was in keeping with that to the dock-yard. Connected with our country’s greatness, it called up a similar train of ideas, and I felt it an honor to England that so noble an institution should offer, to our brave tars, the comforts required in sickness. Too much cannot be done for our navy, nor can the provision for our sick and wounded defenders be too liberal: they merit all their country can bestow. It has long been said, and with great correctness, that British sailors are not only a bold, but a peculiar race of beings. The fact is striking, and although it were extremely difficult to describe their extraordinary character, yet may it be given in one short sentence, for—they are a race of heroes! Of fear they know only the name. Nothing so delights them as to be led into close combat; and, rather than be vanquished, they would submit to die at their guns. That such men should be liberally accommodated in their sufferings, must be congenial to the warmest wishes of every Briton; and to know that they are so, is consolatory to the feelings of all who are sensible of their value. It is due to their courage and bravery, and is demanded from their country’s gratitude.
The Haslar is, admirably, calculated for this important purpose. The establishment is liberal and splendid, and well worthy its object. In providing so amply for her brave and suffering defenders, England consults her best interests, whilst she proves herself to be mindful of the high duties of humanity.
The hospital, like many others of this island, might, from the grandeur of the edifice, be mistaken for a palace. It is built in an open airy situation near the sea, at a short distance from Gosport. The sick are brought in boats, from the ships at Spithead, and, conveniently, received on shore at a landing-place at the hospital. This great building, fitted for the accommodation of two thousand patients, together with houses for officers and the medical attendants, a chapel, a laboratory, a variety of offices, and thirty-eight acres of good pasture land, belonging to the institution, is enclosed within a high brick wall, with iron gates, and a porter’s lodge at the entrance, which no stranger is permitted to pass, without the leave of one of the resident lieutenants; or the porter first announcing his name to some officer of the establishment.
Much to the credit of the country, this noble asylum offers apartments, likewise, for sick and wounded officers, where those who from convenience, or necessity, wish to avail themselves of the benefit of the institution, may find every aid and comfort their situation demands.
Nothing necessary to the establishment has been omitted. It is a distinct building, separated from all others, and, from possessing every essential within itself, is as complete as it is liberal, and does honor to the reign of George II. who has the merit of being its founder.
The establishment consists of a governor, (usually an old navy captain) three lieutenants, three physicians, three surgeons, two visiting apothecaries, a chaplain, an agent, a steward, and a dispenser, with assistants and servants in proportion to the number of sick. The hospital accommodates one thousand eight hundred patients, conveniently, but it sometimes happens that it receives as many as two thousand. This important establishment was founded in the year 1746, but was ten years before it was completed, the patients not being admitted until the year 1756. The expenditure, as may be expected, from the nature of the institution, differs very widely in different years, varying from 10,000l. to upwards of 30,000l. per annum.
But great and liberal as the relief is which is held out, to the sick, we are not to contemplate this splendid institution, in the limited view of a mere asylum for those who are, immediately, suffering. Its object is far more extensive: it may be said to be the depôt—the great and general receptacle of maritime sickness, and the best guardian of our navy; for it not only offers a home to the sick, but holds out the means of keeping disease and infection from our fleets. Every ship lying in harbour, or upon going out to sea, has the privilege of sending any of the sailors who may chance to be ill, to the Haslar; a regulation founded in wisdom, and fraught with great and manifold advantages; for, not only are the sick more speedily recovered, but, by this excellent arrangement, every ship is made free from disease, and contagion is prevented; or, if it should already exist, is kept from spreading through the vessel, or extending its direful effects to the fleet. Hence, from the extensive accommodation of this admirable institution, and from the strict rules of cleanliness and ventilation, which are now observed on board the ships, all apprehension is removed of great and general sickness in the navy.
I mentioned the ramparts as another object of our attention. These form an agreeable relief to the general heaviness of the town, by affording a lively and extensive view of the environs, including the sea, the Isle of Wight, and the Southampton river, with the fleets at Spithead and St. Helens.
The fortifications of Portsmouth have been, lately, extended to the part called Portsea, by which they have assumed a more formidable aspect; and although they are, even yet, more calculated to guard against a surprise, than to withstand the regular attack of a besieging army, still, from its fosses, its bastions, and its angles, this place wears more the appearance of a regularly fortified town, than any other of our island. But, happily for England, she has been fortified by a greater master than Vauban, Cohorn, or any other engineer of modern or ancient celebrity. The trident of old Neptune has dug a deep fosse around her, which Britons, of the present day, know how to guard, as their best defence.