Thomas Osborne, Earl of Danby had a plan as Charles’ new ‘Prime Minister’, to repair the damage from the disastrous Third Anglo Dutch War. To rebuild his master’s prestige on the pillars of financial stability, and Anglican alliance, and alliance with the Dutch.
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Transcript
Before we start this episode proper, I thought I’d like to give you a bit of an anecdote, or a sort of sketch of an extraordinary character in English History, Margaret Cavendish, and the sensation she caused in English society in 1667.
I may have mentioned her before – though as I say, my memory these days has a half-life of about 2 weeks, so who knows. I have also written a shedcast on her because she is rather remarkable. She had been in the entourage of Queen Henrietta, and fled with her to France and then married William Cavendish Marquis of Newcastle in exile after he fled his defeat at the Battle of Marston Moor, which would prove a real love match, and a real meeting of minds to boot. When she and William moved to Antwerp, she became one of those polymaths so typical of the English Enlightenment, although since she was a woman and had been educated according to the mores of the time, she had more of a mountain to climb than many of her male colleagues. So she was largely self taught, but taught also by William and his brother Charles; together they explored the news ideas about science and natural philosophy.
And from 1653 she started publishing; she travelled over to England, and published her first work of many, Poems and Fancies, from one of the mass of printers who had emerged in London. Her first work covered a whole range of topics and genres, poems, literature even political thought, and importantly, natural philosophy, including her views on the nature and structure of Atoms. There are a number of remarkable things about her work. It’s not just that she published, but that she published under her own name. Published works by women at all were relatively rare. Women of course wrote, and often prolifically; but their works tended to be circulated privately as manuscripts or on occasion under a pseudonym. But she published loud and proud under her own name. Then there is the subject matter of Cavendish’s works. Where women did publish, it was expected they’d stick to their socially accepted lane; their works were like hen’s teeth outside domestic advice books or devotional religious works – but poetry? That was not on; in 1700, a critic would write
“What a Pox have the Women to do with Muses?”
And not just that of course – Natural philosophy was absolutely the preserve of men.
All in all, Margaret was a sensation of her time, especially after the Restoration. Over the years she attracted positive reviews from a readership as diverse as Dryden and Kenhelm Digby; she protested fiercely for the rights of women to education and publishing, and won the admiration of Bathsua Makin, who celebrated, that despite her lack of formal education, her work
over-tops many grave Gown-Men
Others, though, were scandalised and horrified. Dorothy Osborne was no shrinking violet herself, and she feverishly searched out Margaret’s first work but was disappointed in what she found
I have seen it, and am satisfied that there are many soberer people in Bedlam
Many others denied she was really the author; and that they’d actually been written for her by a bloke.
As far was her husband William was concerned, the problem was simple
Here’s the crime: a lady writes them, and to entrench so much upon the male prerogative is not to be forgiven
After the Restoration, Margaret became something of a celebrity, and in 1666, she launched into another genre, with a book she wrote almost as a time filler, a work of utopian fiction which has been described as a forerunner of science fiction, called the Blazing World. Although she was naturally rather shy and preferred staying at home at Welbeck Abbey in Nottinghamshire, she inevitably ended up coming to London with her husband. And in 1667 there was a fever of excitement when news went round that she would be in town; John Evelyn was fascinated by her and met her 4 times; Pepys chased around searching for her
The Duchess of Newcastle is all the pageant now discourses on. All the town talk is of her extravagancies
Cavendish was something of an eccentric dresser as well as possessing an individual mind, and Pepys was not alone in being mad to catch a glimpse of her. Hwe eventually managed to spot her in her coach
With her velvet-cap, her hair about her ears, many black patches because of pimples around her mouth, naked necked…
But Margaret’s life in 1667 was exceptional because her writings in Natural philosophy meant she became the first woman to be invited to visit the Royal Society. It was a potentially awkward occasion; Cavendish had not always been very complimentary about the experimental and observational approach to science, and of the society itself. None the less, it was a great occasion, and she made a grand entrance, and spent her time with Robert Boyle, Robert Hooke, and Henry More to boot, and she wrote of watching demonstrations
‘of colours, loadstones, microscopes and of liquors’,
as well as Robert Boyle’s famous air pump experiments. This though would prove to be a one off; it’d be many centuries before there was another female visitor, let alone member.
OK, so that’s my social vignette for the episode, let us now return to the knitting. Last time we heard about Charles’ Great Game, where he finally got to his happy place – friendship with France, death to the republican and commercial wizards of the Netherlands, and the receipts of a nice pension from Louis to help maintain his lifestyle and a modicum of independence from the increasingly antsi English parliament. But then we saw his pro French policy hit the shoals through defeat in his passion project, the frankly disastrous and humiliating Third Anglo Dutch war, outplayed and out thought by De Ruyter, marginalised by military failure, and deserted by an ally in Louis XIV, who was unimpressed by the return from his investment in the English king and alliance.
Ronald Hutton discerns a tendency in Charles to withdraw from Westminster after political humiliations. His twice yearly trips to the Newmarket races started after the debacle at Medway in 1667; and now had come the underlining of his failure against the Dutch Republic with the Treaty of Westminster. He felt heartily hacked off at the failure of his policy and disinclined to blame himself for it; when the diplomat William Temple was called out of retirement to put the finishing touches to the treaty, he remarked to Charles that he had been ill-advised to start the war. Charles snarled back at him that he had been ill served. If you are going to criticize kings, you need to pick your moment. Anyway, he now took to spending his summers at Windsor, away from London society and politics.
He left behind him a competent man in control, to pick up the train smash that were the public finances, given his Stop on the Exchequer was coming to an end and there were bills to be paid, and the costs of a fruitless war. So it’s time to talk about a political figure who will be with us for some time, off and on, and you’ll be pleased to know he’s a Yorkshire man – Thomas Osborne, best known as the Earl of Danby. I mean he changes his name regularly – Osborne, Carmathen, Danby, Leeds blah blah, but Danby it shall be for us. He’s 42 in 1674, an ex-client of Buckingham, now in the process of shaking off that particular encumbrance.
Danby was a clever chap, especially with the finances; and had cut his teeth on the post of Treasurer of the Navy, where he’d proved himself super competent, and earned himself an even more powerful patron in James, Duke of York as a result. One of Danby’s flashes of inspiration was to realise that the way to a Monarch’s heart is not through his stomach – though much can always be achieved by the judicious application of a pork pie – but no, the real route lies through his or her purse. It was he, therefore, that first realised the key to political power was the Great office of state, the post of Treasurer. This is a tradition that continues to this day; the Prime Minister is always also the First Lord of the Treasury. It is an inspiration usually attributed to Robert Walpole in 1721; but Danby got there first; and contemporaries actually used the phrase, Prime Ministry – so all we’d need to do is swap one letter and we are there. Danby claimed this post from the King in November 1673.
Danby was a clever man, and has been described as a conviction politician. He was convinced, for example, that there was nothing wrong in bribery. He was convinced he should always be at the centre of affairs – would make more political comebacks than Lazarus. I am being a bit of a smart arse, so sorry; but I suppose to be serious I am illustrating that Danby had serious flaws and shortcomings to add to the enormous talents that would grace his career. He was also bombastic and devoid of charm, and so lacked a crucial politician’s skill; even his friend John Evelyn said of him that although
A man of excellent parts
he had nothing generous or grateful in him
Evelyn also described him as ‘haughty’, and I am told there is a great benefit in people being open with each other saying what they think about each other, calling a spade a spade, so maybe Evelyn was just being a good friend. Personally, I do not want to know, for future reference, some things are best left under the carpet where they belong, but maybe that’s just me.
Anyway, moving away from awkward discussions of touchy-feely things like personal relationships and so on, I had better start explaining why Danby was such an influential figure in English politics and such an effective politician. As I say, he was a whizz with the finances, but also he was brutally pragmatic, and he was a clear minded tactician. He has to be said he was no imaginative visionary describing a better future or some such, but he was clear minded and focussed, and he arrived in 1673 with a clear plan on how to bring Charles’ troubled politics under control, particularly the immediate crisis of the panic about James’ conversion and marriage.
And then back to the conviction politician thing, which drove his plan; he had three principles that would stay with him throughout. One was a love of and absolute commitment to the Anglican church; another was his hatred and fear of France, as the chief threat to English religion and liberty. A third was his deep belief in the power of the hereditary Monarch, and the legitimacy of the House of Stuart. There will come a time when two convictions will be company, but three a crowd, and he will have to choose. But this is not yet that time.
One of his great strengths was that two of these things – the church of England and a fear of France – were those held by the large majority of the English people. They were not held by his boss however, and Charles would never genuinely be prised away from his own most cherished principle – his love of France and its culture. The story of the next 5 years is of Danby trying to persuade Charles that his salvation lay in basing his rule on two firm pillars; the Anglican church, and on a Protestant alliance with the Dutch against France. He wrote this in a memo in 1673,
‘in all things to promote the Protestant interest both at home and abroad’.
He would only be able to build one of those pillars.
Okally dokally enough theorising on with events, dear boys and girls, events.
Danby recognised his king had a branding problem. Nothing new, same old same old lack of majestic majesty, amoral court dodgy religion and foreign allegiances, but James’s conversion and marriage had really not helped, nor the failed war in support of France. In 1674 a political poem expressed the feelings of many.
The isle was well reformed and gain’d renown
Whilst the brave Tudors wore th’imperial crown
But since the Stewarts came
it has recoiled to popery and shame
First up, Danby knew that to tackle these required a king who was financially secure. So – let’s talk about money.
Charles’ finances were undeniably in a mess; there was the Stop of the Exchequer to deal with and all the debt associated with that, the annual deficit was £500,000 on normal income of £900,000, so normal expenditure of £1.4m just to be super clear. Salaries were unpaid, and future revenue from tax farmers had already been taken. Danby made a lot of boring improvements that really shouldn’t be part of any history podcast which aims to entertain as well as inform, but look I’m a lover of gum bleeding history, so just indulge me for a second. This is what he did; he tightened administrative procedure, improved terms with tax farmers and the efficiency of their collection of things like the Hearth Tax. He restructured debt repayments, and made sure that payments were then actually made on time; that had an additional benefit of improving confidence, and reducing the interest at which he could raise new government loans. He also tried to cut back on court expenditure; but had about as much luck on that as Sailsbury had managed with James I. Maybe expenditure didn’t go up as much as it might have done, who knows. Where he could, he laid off any soldiers remaining from the French alliance and transferred the cost to France, but he couldn’t touch Charle’s sneaky brigades which he’d stashed in Ireland.
OK? Dull enough for you? That all sounds sensible and free if a little dry, but as Danby also said to Charles, royal finances
cannot be amended but by force or by compliance’
So there’s Danby’s brutal face, which was, once again, to milk Catholics by applying the penal laws relatively rigorously; particularly in the north of England, where presumably he had some local knowledge.
Honestly that’s about it. On its own it wouldn’t have been enough. But there were two other factors going for him. One were the French bribes from Louis; Danby would dearly love to get rid of those, along with the Pro French policy, but meanwhile they helped the king’s finances. But the factor that really saved him were the customs and excise receipts. Because they were growing, and they were growing because trade was growing, both internal and external, and prosperity with it.
Part of the story was international trade. The East India Company had made a strategic switch away from spices, where competition was fierce; especially from the Dutch, now more than the Portuguese. As part of that, the Dutch, as well as the Portuguese, had integrated into what has been described as the ‘oldest slave trade routes’, i8ndigenous trading in enslaved people across the Indian ocean, connecting East Africa, Madagascar, South Asia, and the Middle East; the Dutch used slaves for example in spice production in the Moluccas. Unable to compete, the EIC had turned instead, to importing textiles, from production centred on the Bay of Bengal, fine luxury cotton and silk materials. 1670-1675 was an absolute bonanza for them, and although trade fell away for a few years thereafter, by 1680 it was climbing again. Atlantic trade was also growing and part of that was the trade in enslaved people; between 1660 and 1700, 350,000 Africans were sold into slavery, with the Caribbean being the largest market. This was a trade from which both Charles and James profited through the Royal Africa Company, as did their great political adversary the Earl of Shaftesbury. Meanwhile, the North American colonies also profited, because the growing use of slave labour fed demand in the Caribbean for their grain, and so the wider Atlantic trade System began to grow.
But a principle factor in economic revival was very much the growth in domestic too; particularly in the form of London. Urbanisation was not at this stage driven by general population growth, which actually fell a tadge across England and Wales, from maybe 5.3 to 5.1 million, as people were getting married later. The growth of London seems to have given people an opportunity; there’s a theory that young women were moving to take advantage of those opportunities and freedoms in London; and therefore incidentally – getting married later. So London kept growing, and spread its tentacles of demand all across the country. In 1650 for example there had been no demand for Cheshire Cheese – by 1680 2,000 tons were being shipped from there every year. Farmers in counties from Sussex to Yorkshire sold over 200,000 tons of grain to London every year. The lack of population growth eased many pressures; tenants were now in demand by landlords rather than the other way round; so the cost of rents began to fall or stayed stagnant. Wheat prices were falling too, with England producing a grain surplus – so much so that from 1672 the government actually started encouraging exports – which was unheard of!
The spirit of Samuel Hartlib and the thirst for innovation was very much alive, and improved methods being applied, in open farming areas as much as enclosed; John Houghton spoke of
Such an improvement as England never knew before.
The story of the improvement in communication, such a famous aspect of the 18th century growth in the British economy, starts in England now; roads were being improved, waterways dug out to improve river traffic. Publication like Ogilby’s Britannique mapped major trunk routes in remarkable detail and helped keep the traffic flowing.
Towns generally start their upward journey to the vitality which will be such a core part of the 18th century English economy. As the range of products in towns grew, there were more reasons to shop there; people talked and that helped swell demand. We are at the start of what Jan De Vries called the Industrious revolution – people worked longer, held off getting married for longer, because there were more luxury products to buy, which included those international products too – sugar, coffee, cottons, tobacco. A culture of consumption was beginning to appear. Our Nicholas Barbon, who we heard about in the rebuilding of London, he, amongst others, had no doubt that this was a good thing that would help improve prosperity for all
The cobbler is always endeavouring to live as well as the shoemaker, and the shoemaker as well as any in the parish…and thus people grow rich.
We have already talked about how the coal industry was taking off in Newcastle in a previous episode – and just how critical that was, in terms of the photosynthetic exchange. Other industries that will become absolutely central to the story of the English Industrial Revolution are raising their tiny heads, looking around and developing muscles in places they didn’t know they had. The industrial sap was rising in Sheffield for steel, in the West Riding of Yorkshire for wool, and metal working in Birmingham. Even the Lancashire cotton industry was perking up. As this early stage, the raw cotton came from the eastern med and trade with the Levant, to supply a cotton industry which had been kicked off in the 16th century by Flemish immigrants and workers. They often produced a linen and cotton combo called fustian – the really high quality calicos were imported from India. But the kernel of the industry was there.
One other factor helped contribute to the general economic growth and confidence; I give you the the Poor laws. The amount of relief handed out to the needy and out of work had grown and grown; so by the 1690s, something like 5% of the population were fed by it. The Poor Laws were now embedded in English society, and more generous than any other system in Europe – which had the consequence, of course, of a rising chorus of moans and groans from those rich enough to pay it. But so embedded was it, that people came to rely on it; they knew that if they took a risk – moving a job or moving somewhere else for example – the Poor Law would help them out if they failed. The Poor Law helped make the English labour market more flexible and allowed people to adapt to new circumstances – you can add it to the list of causes of the industrial revolution.
That’s not to say there was no economic unrest, and in 1675 there was a 4 day riot in London, which again has interesting echoes with the later industrial revolution. A small silk industry had been started in Spitalfields by Dutch workers fleeing the Spanish wars. It remained a significant if small cottage industry – relying very much on imported Italian silk, where they had the technology and expertise to throw longer threads. But in the 17th century, a new machine loom, the Dutch Loom as it was called, began to be introduced. So fewer workers were needed, and as the less skilled workers were put out of work, there was a three day orgy of riots and machine destruction. I wanted to make two remarks about that; one, it’s got those interesting echoes of the later protests of the Luddites. And secondly, many of the rioters wore Green aprons. Green was the colour of the Levellers; some hearts still carried a candle for the radicalism of the civil wars. That sort of thing really, really, and I mean really worried the likes of Danby.
Which finally brings me back to good old Danners. Where were we? I think I was saying that despite the without doubt laudable and impressive efficiencies Danby wrought on Charles’ revenue system, the thing that really made the most difference was that England’s economy was growing, people were wealthier and buying more luxury goods, and so customs and excise dues were growing; and that was a form of income which although granted by parliament, was granted once for the whole reign, or a relatively long period. The long and short off all of this, was that by 1678, Charles’ annual income had grown from £900,000, to £1.3 million. There was still debt aplenty; Charles’ spending kept rising, so there was not much left each year for investing in the navy or any unplanned expenditure; the swimmer of state could keep their nose above the water of bankruptcy – but not much more than that, though the government’s credit was now good for loans.
Okey Dokey, with the State on foundations made of something a little firmer than sand, Danby could now try to put his Big Idea, capital B capital I, into Operation. He summarised this in a neat phrase
‘to settle the church and state; to defend the one against schismaticks and papists, and the other against commonwealthsmen and rebels’.
Let me pick that apart a bit. He’s saying that the pillar of the church must be the Church of England, and there must be confoundation and confusion to those outside it – Catholics and Protestant dissenters. The pillar of the state must of course be the king, and all those who sought to limit, change or restrain the monarch’s power must also be confused and confounded. Commonswealthmen were those who remained committed to the Good Old Cause, a Republican future.
Now handily, in most peoples’ minds, Schismatics, rebels and Commonswealthmen were largely represented by the same group – the extremely vocal and fractious protestant dissenters who had been sidelined by the Test acts. So, at least the enemy was clear and in plain sight
To achieve his stated aims, Danby had a few weapons in his armoury. He would use censorship to restrain anything that seemed to stray into sedition, and propaganda to vilify opponents. And in Roger L’Estrange he had a devilishly clever friend to help him. But he also talked up the English Revolution as caused by the horrible and nasty commonwealthsmen, rather than, you know, Charles I’s inflexible arrogance, and riffed on the execution of Charles I, not as an entirely justified holding of a double dealing tyrant to account, but as a horrible crime. On that line, in 1675 a grand bronze Statue of Charles was erected in London at Charing Cross.
One of the most effective propaganda tools remained the Pulpit, and so his next weapon, was the dear old church of England herself. Not just the ministers across the country, but also the MPs and Lords who supported the narrow Cavalier Anglican religious settlement, and pish to those in parliament who favoured a broader, more generous, inclusive, dare I say Elizabethan Anglicanism. Those latter accommodating folks had acquired a name – Latitudeianarianist. As political calls to arms go, it’s not a phrase to stir the blood, I grant you.
What do we want – Latitudianarianism!
When do we want it?
In due course!
The Anglican cry of ‘The Church in Danger’! will be far more effective, and Danby will make full use of that,
More straightforwardly, there were also the 26 Bishops in the House of Lords – which is at least one quarter of the total, so they formed a powerful and reliable voting block.
Danby’s next weapon was a technique for managing parliament which you will get used to over the next, ooh 150 years or so give or take, a devilish strategy which will become very popular with successors like Walpole. We are talking about building a Court Party in Parliament.
Now, it’s important to note that a coherent set of beliefs and values behind which people could gather was critical, and Danby articulated those very well, a struck an answering cord in many people. It does not do to be too cynica.l But, not to put too fine a point on it, a core part of constructing a Court party was systemic and highly organised bribery and corruption; a few quid here, a job there, a recommendation and glowing reference here, a pretty pension up there. In a sense there’s nothing new about this; we’ve talked about the idea of placemen before, MPs and Lords with comfortable government jobs which gave them an income they would hate to have to do without. But Danby sort of industrialises it. So systemic was it that this Cavalier parliament which had now faced no general election of 13 years, would earn the name of the Pensionary Parliament – a phrase coined by John Milton’s nephew, would you believe.
It’s not just that about money though; it is about carefully understanding and managing the MPs sympathetic to your aims and values. He drew up lists of MPs and their sympathies. He mobilised the resources of the state to write to such MPs, to organise them to attend specific sittings and votes in the parliament; he deployed ministers of the government to have friendly chats, smooching and a bit of glad handing, to flatter and to emole. By the October 1675 session, he reckoned he could count on about 180 MPs, and had a good chance to win over a further 90. 270 MPs, in a Commons of a little over 500 – so, a majority for the government. It acquires a name this alliance, this coalition, this faction – it becomes known as the Court Party.
Now this is an impressive armoury of political weapons, I am sure you will agree. But there was an international dimension to boot. The French alliance must go. In the eyes of a comfortable majority of the English, comfortable I tell you, Charles’ support for and love of the French was incomprehensible – Catholic and Absolutist. And who was the last king who’d been like that…oh, the earlier Charles that’s who, and that hadn’t ended well. And to boot, England had been fighting against Dutch Protestants. Protestants. The Dutch we’d fought with in the time of Good old Queen Bess when we ruled the waves and the world was rosy and bright. If there was one thing that made England worry that their king was a closet Catholic and would be tyrant, all that Louis-loving was right at the top of the list. So, France out, The Netherlands in.
At home, to some degree Danby managed to get Charles to play ball. He follows Danby’s advice in making the PC reflect a more purely Anglican alignment, rather than reflecting a broad church. Bishops were added to the PC, since they were of course your most passionate supporters of an Anglican supremacy, and staunch royalists to boot – afterall, in the recent past of the Revolution, James’ famous dictum, No Bishops No King, had been shown to be fully reversible – no King, No Bishops. Church and State were in union, intertwined like young lovers, just like the good old days. Presbyterians and Danby’s political opponents were sent their P45s and removed from the PC – pick up; your cards, and hop it. One of those, you might be amused ad delighted to know, was Denzil Holles, he of the English Revolution fame. Still around. Older, not necessarily wiser, but also plotting resistance; he lived in the Duke of Bedford’s grand development in Covent Garden, a very good address, and there he would often be joined by the Earl of Shaftesbury, to plan and plot responses to Danby’s growing Court Party and its agenda.
Charles also made declarations to parliament, announcing greater focus in applying the penal laws on Catholics and dissenters; there would be a crackdown, the sort of flexible, bending in the wind policy which suggests Charles doesn’t really care very much about any one religion, or indeed maybe religion at all in any deep way. It was a matter of state, of pragmatism. Danby then came up with the idea of a more stringent oath for MPs in which they would swear not to change the church or state in anyway. And with Charles’ agreement, introduced a bill for the oath into the House of Lords, where he would be much more likely to win agreement.
So Charles was willing to take a back seat on domestic policy for a while, head off to the races and to the pleasure of Windsor and his various courtiers and courtier-esses, and let his trooper Danners get on with the business end.
Should I persist in calling the Earl of Danby, key figure in English political and social history Danners or not do you think? I mean I realise it’s silly and childish, but it is almost irresistible. Answers on a postcard, c/o the Shed.
Charles however was not content to let Danby take the lead on the business of kings. And no, I don’t mean putting a few quid on Spankers at the 4:50 from Newmarket. Though I understand Spankers was indeed a famous racehorse of the period, a descendent of Old Bald Peg, and one of Spanker’s descendants was a legendary mare, called Flying Childers. And in answer to your question, I have absolutely no idea why I am telling you all about a bit of the history of horseracing, and only a dim idea what it all means.
But no, I mean the real sport of kings, war, international diplomacy, glory, intrigue and double dealing. Back to Danby’s convictions – he was utterly convinced we needed to stop helping France become the European superpower, and instead ally with our friends in The Netherlands. Charles, as I may have mention 1 or 20 times, was not so convinced, and favoured France for cultural and financial reasons; and involved Danby in implementing his policy, in conversations, negotiations and discussions with the French. The consequence of this, is the deep, deep irony that Danby will become known by the Great English Public as a Louis Loving Francophile and be duly distrusted because of it. Life can be unfair, and cruel.
This is then how events played out for a couple of years. In April 1675, Charles made a public declaration that he would rigorously enforce religious penal codes – quite a few of the more cynical saw through the whole thing from the start it must be said – London Apprentices called it
A Declaration of his Majesty for Sweetmeats for the parliament
When parliament opened that month, Charles made persecution of Popery centre stage in his speech – despite the passionate opposition behind of the scenes of James – and of his pal the French Ambassador in which lies a story. During said conversation, Charles was offered £100,000 by Louis XIV to prorogue parliament instead.
Well, I’m not going to say Charles wasn’t tempted, but he went to parliament with hope in his heart and his faith in Danby, asked for money for the Navy and Danby had a pal put the proposal for his aforementioned enhanced Test oath to the Lords. But to Charles’ fury there was not only opposition to any money grants, but outright attack. The failures of the war, his outrageous court, his love for France meant he had no credit left. Instead they got an attempt to impeach his deeply unpopular chief ministers in both England and Scotland, Danby and Lauderdale. The debate in the Lords over the oath dragged on – and then Shaftesbury introduced a bill that would force the King to have any future children of James educated as Protestants – which of course was already the case with his existing children, Mary and Anne, but needed to be nailed down should Mary of Modena become a mom. So much for corruption and a Court Party then. On 9th June, Charles prorogued parliament, bitterly commenting that his enemies had won a great victory.
Now it would have been a great thing if the war in the Low Countries had kept going the way of William and the Dutch, because a defeat for Louis would have taken some of the heat out of fears in England, but sadly Louis was now holding his ground. The war had widened out, Spain had joined in and as a result the war was focussed on Spanish Burgundy and the Spanish Netherlands. Louis’ superb diplomacy had brought Sweden onto his side, and various German states were also in the mix.
With a delightful sense of real politique, Charles both proposed himself as an honest, unbiased mediator to try and end the war between everyone, bring peace and love…and at the same time got back to Louis about that amusing little offer of £100,000 quid he had so foolishly ignored; and in August 1675 he signed a treaty, agreeing that he would not only prorogue parliament, but dissolve it if it tried to force him into war against France, or refused his tax requests. And if that happened, if he did prorogue parliament again, Louis would bankroll him to the tune of £100,000 a year.
In the Autumn session of parliament 1675 Charles again asked for money, and was offered £300,000 which was a fraction of what he wanted, and then they got into those pesky bills about James’ children and a squabble between the privileges of Commons and Lords. Well, Charles had had it up to the eyes with parliament and prorogued it for an unprecedented 15 months; Danby’s oath was lost, so was the extra money. Never mind; Charles went to Louis with his finger in his eye and said his super long prorogation surely qualified as a dissolution, and that anyway Danby had been badgering him to make an alliance with the Dutch which he had resisted. And so Louis said, alright then, poppet, and he got his 30 shekels of silver.
I mean it could be argued that Charles wasn’t really a traitor to his own country, prioritising his own interests and fun loving over his country; he was simply very effectively milking Louis for some cash. And it’s an argument with legs; Charles always maintains a freedom of action and decision making, and although handy, Louis bribes never reached the level to allow him complete independence from parliament. But it did free his hands to play hard ball; and should a head of state be having discussions about manipulating his internal politics with a foreign power? Is that a good thing? Even with a lower case G and T.
Anyway, Louis had his way, parliament had been prorogued until 1677. As French fortunes continued to improve in the Franco Dutch war, Louis would continue to try and persuade Charles to prorogue parliament; while Prince Rupert and James fought Luois’ corner too, and tried to get him to go one step further, and dissolve a parliament completely. Because it seemed to be increasingly cavalier about implementing the king’s wishes, despite Danby’s much vaunted court party. It seems Charles seriously considered that, but events would persuade him otherwise; namely, an interesting census, and a colonial war.
