The Draytons and the Davenants : $b A story of the Civil WarsCharles, Elizabeth Rundle
History
The Draytons and the Davenants : $b A story of the Civil Wars
Charles, Elizabeth Rundle
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
"I would they took example by the king. His Majesty has been riding
around the country lately himself, calling his lieges to follow him.
And his majestic courtesy and grace, with his loving and winning
speeches, such as he made at Newark and Lincoln, showing his good
intentions and desires for their liberty and welfare, must, I am
sure, be worth him a mint of such money as the London citizens can
coin out of their thimbles and bodkins.
"The North country is well disposed, they say; and Lancashire, where
the queen hath much hold on the Catholic gentlemen of ancient lineage
there; and the West country, where brave Sir Bevil Granvill lives, is
full of loyalty. Mr. Hampden has done mischief in Buckinghamshire,
and Mr. Cromwell (a brewer, Sir Launcelot says, rather than a
country-gentleman, though not of low parentage) calls himself
captain, and is disaffecting the eastern counties, already disloyal
enough, with their French Huguenot weavers, and their 'Anabaptists,
Atheists, and Brownists,' as His Majesty calls them.
"The towns are the worst, however. I suppose there is something in
buying and selling, and tinkering and tailoring, which makes people
think more of mean money considerations, than of loyalty and honour.
Then there are so many Puritans in the town. Perhaps the narrow dark
high streets make them naturally inclined to be gloomy and
strait-laced. I think, however, the less our Cavalier soldiers are
quartered in the towns, the better, till they mend their manners. It
may make the citizens less pleased than ever with the Book of Sports.
"_Nottingham, August_ 23.--This evening the king himself set up his
standard on the top of the field behind the castle. There was much
sounding of drums and trumpets. Several hundreds gathered around the
royal party, and we watched a little way off. But, I know not how,
the act did not seem as solemn as the occasion. The night was
stormy; and the trumpets and drums, and then the voice of the herald
reading the royal proclamation, sounded small and thin against the
rush and howling of the winds. The troops have not yet answered the
king's call as they should, and those present were mostly the
train-bands. Then His Majesty, on the spot, made some alterations in
the proclamation, which perplexed the herald, so that he blundered
and stumbled in reading it. Altogether I wish I had not been there.
"The king's standard ought to be something more than a pole no higher
than a May-pole with a few streamers, and a common flag at the top.
And the trumpets which are to rouse a nation, ought to have a certain
magnificence in them, altogether different from the trumpets they
blow at the carols at Netherby at Christmas. I am sure I cannot tell
how. But I always pictured it so. The words are grander than the
things.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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