This expedition raised his Majesty's spirits for more than one
reason. Not only would it take him for some months out of a country
he detested, and back to his beloved Holland--the very flatness of
which was inexpressibly dear to his recollection, though he had left
it but a month or two--but the prospect of this year's campaign had
awakened quite an extraordinary enthusiasm in England. For the first
time since Henry the Eighth had laid siege to Boulogne, an English
army commanded by an English king was about to exhibit its prowess on
Continental soil. It became the rage among the young gentlemen of
St. James's and Whitehall to volunteer for service in Flanders.
The coffee-houses were threatened with desertion, and a prodigious
number of banquets had been held by way of farewell. The regiments
which marched into Harwich on the last day of April to await the King
were swollen with recruits eager for glory. Addresses of duty and
loyalty met his Majesty at every halting-place, and acclamations
followed the royal coach throughout the route. The townsfolk of
Harwich, in particular, had hung out every scrap of bunting they
could find, besides erecting half a dozen triumphal arches, which by
their taste and magnificence were calculated to leave the most
favourable impression in the Sovereign's mind.
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