The Manchester Rebels of the Fatal '45Ainsworth, William Harrison
History
The Manchester Rebels of the Fatal '45
Ainsworth, William Harrison
Great Britain -- History -- George II, 1727-1760 -- Fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction
In the midst of the general alarm and confusion now prevailing in the
place, Colonel Townley found it impossible to enrol a sufficient
number of men to form a regiment. All those who had been lavish in
promises made excuses, or got out of the way.
By this time Carlisle had surrendered, and the prince, whose army
moved in two divisions, was marching southward. Greatly disappointed
by his ill success, Colonel Townley resolved to set out and meet him
at Lancaster, in order to prepare him for his probable reception at
Manchester.
On the night before his departure on this errand, the colonel had a
conference with Dr. Deacon and Dr. Byrom at the Bull's Head in the
market-place--a tavern frequented mainly by the High Church Tories and
Jacobites; just as the Angel Inn in Market Street Lane was resorted to
by Whigs and Presbyterians.
The party met in a private room at the back of the house. A cheerful
fire blazed on the hearth--it must be borne in mind that it was then
in November--and a flask of claret stood on the table; but the serious
looks of the three gentlemen betokened that they had not met merely
for convivial purposes.
With the tall, thin figure, benevolent countenance, and courteous
manner of Dr. Byrom, we have endeavoured to familiarise the reader.
The doctor was attired in a murrey-coloured coat with long skirts, and
wore a full-bottomed tie-wig, and a laced cravat, but had laid aside
his three-cornered hat.
Dr. Deacon was somewhat advanced in years, but seemed full of vigour,
both of mind and body. He had a highly intellectual physiognomy, and a
look about the eyes that bespoke him an enthusiast and a visionary. He
was dressed in black, but his costume was that of a physician, not a
divine. Still, the Nonjuring priest could not be wholly disguised.
Colonel Townley had a very fine presence. His figure was tall,
well-proportioned, and commanding. He might easily have been taken for
a French officer; nor was this to be wondered at, considering his
fifteen years' service in France. A grey cloth riding-dress faced with
purple displayed his lofty figure to advantage. An aile-de-pigeon wig,
surmounted by a small cocked hat edged with silver lace and
jack-boots, completed his costume.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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