Portsmouth, Oct. 23.
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
10,000_l._ to upwards of 30,000_l._ 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.