1761: Gross Belgians breathe a better air than we

Quote

Epistle from a Soldier in Hilsea Barracks to his Friend in London.

SINCE call’d to arms I now can share no more,
Thy pleasing company as heretofore,
Accept the verse thy absent friend indites,
And read with candor knowing whence he writes.
Deep Hilsea barracks now our corps’ contain,

Between the rising hills and stormy main,
Where lazy vapours congregated lie,
And scarce the sun beams chear the ambient sky,
Can such a station with the muse agree?
Gross Belgians breathe a better air than we.

Not far from hence an antique fort appears,
Where stern captivity dominion bears:
O’er Gallia’s vanquish’d sons—who long confin’d,
With fruitless wishes load the passing wind,
Forlorn, as outcasts, languishing they lie,
Expos’d to want, and helpless misery,
Blush! Louis, blush! for thy ambition vain,
And broken leagues, they drag Brittania’s chain,
Unlike good Brunswick of unsully’d fame,
Who touch’d with pity’s heav’n descended flame,
Gave the warm fleece their shiv’ring limbs to bless,
Kind sooth’d their griefs, & wept a foe’s distress.
A godlike act! which brighter shines alone
Than all the trophies round a tyrant’s throne.

How heavily the captive’s moments pass,
The sands of life still ling’ring in the glass:
He thinks the sun’s diurnal course too slow,
And counts the watches of the night in woe.
Behold the wretch at morn’s returning light,
From the rude walls extend his aching sight.
O’er the wide ocean, on whose groaning tides,
Britannia’s thunder bearing navy rides,
He counts the bulwarks frowning round the coast.
And hears the tumult of the war-bred host.
Awe-struck, and sad, he silently retires,
And every hope of liberty expires.

Perhaps (for while one spark of life remains
Man unresisting cannot yield to chains)
Deep, through the ground, he meditates his way,
And delves incessant in the stubborn clay,
‘Till spent with toil he slumbers—then alone
He lays his galling load of sorrow down.
Kind fancy leads him thro’ his fav’rite scenes,
To vales of lillies, or to viney plains.
Or gives him back the sweets or peaceful life
Within his cottage, with his friends and wife.
He wakes, his prison’s walls around him rife,
And with new ardour now his task he plies,
Till softly stealing on the face of day,
The watchful centries seize their haggard prey:
Then monsieur’s genius in its height is seen,
Who, disappointed, scorns to shew chagrin:
But shrugging up his shoulders, cries, ‘Begar,
‘Dis be var well, me find de chance of war.’

Dec 18. W. VERNON, Soldier in the old Buffs,

— Vernon, W.  (1761) The Gentleman’s Magazine: and historical chronicle, Vol. XXXI, D. Henry at St. John’s Gate, London. (source)

This is very early - the barracks were only built five years earlier, but the reputation for bad air, ague and fever is, it seems, already well established. The barracks didn’t fall into disrepair; they were built that way.

Question

Do salt pans encourage mosquitos? What did the locals die of?

Chatbot-generated summary, with minor edits by me:

• Opening Lines: The soldier starts by expressing regret that he can no longer enjoy his friend’s company, having been called to duty.

• Hilsea Barracks: He describes the barracks, located between hills and the sea, as a dreary place with poor weather, bad air, and limited sunlight. He sarcastically says even the “Belgians” have better air, implying Hilsea is particularly unpleasant.

Question

Why Belgians?

• Portchester Castle: Not far from the barracks is an old fort, where French prisoners of war are held. These prisoners are in miserable conditions, yearning for freedom. The soldier criticises the French king, Louis, whose ambition led to their plight, contrasting him with the compassionate British monarch, Brunswick, who cared for his enemies.

• The Prisoner’s Perspective: The poem then shifts to imagining life from the perspective of a French prisoner. His days are filled with sorrow, as he longs for freedom and dreads the slow passage of time. He watches the British navy and army, feeling helpless as his hope fades.

• Escape Attempt: The prisoner attempts to dig his way out of the fort, only to be caught by the guards. Despite his failure, he takes it in stride, shrugging it off as a risk of war with a touch of humour, “It’s fine; this is just how war goes.”