unable to console herself with thoughts of ‘the Flag’ or
religion, in an atmosphere ‘of bandages and blood’. As time elapsed and she
saw more of the war’s effects via her work with Dr Hector Martin’s Flying
Ambulance Corps near Dunkirk and St Malo, she found that her previously
firm views on soldiering and warfare were now wavering. ‘All my previous
ideas of men marching to war have had a touch of heroism, crudely expressed
by quick-step and smart uniform’, she wrote after a visit to the shattered town
of Furnes, ‘Today I see tired dusty men, very hungry looking and
enemies’ (Lord Mayors’ Pageants, vol. II, p. 185).
Earlier that year Christopher Clitheroe (the Lord Mayor in 1635)
made a speech to Parliament about the dangers of Dunkirk privateers
(see Thrush, Oxford DNB, ‘Clitherow, Sir Christopher’).
See Kellett, ‘The breakdown of gild and corporation control’, pp.
382–4. ‘Foreigners’ were non-free inhabitants of the City; ‘aliens’ or
‘strangers’ were the terms used for those from overseas in this period.
See Hardin, ‘Spectacular Constructions’, p. 76. Brenner writes that
the Merchant Adventurers ‘at the turn of the seventeenth
I stood on the battlements and looked across the deep green meadows towards the place where perhaps the destiny of Saxon England was really decided. Dunkirk was fresh in our minds, but who remembers the Great March when the housecarles tramped three hundred miles in thirty days, along the rough track of a road, without transport and with little organized supply in the way of food? … How long ago it seems, the fight on the hill; yet I drove through Battle once again this past April, and it was as if it had been yesterday. History did not repeat itself in 1940, but