The Dutch did indeed fear that Britain had procured better conditions for herself than she was willing to admit. The Pensionary of Amsterdam, Paul Buys, was accordingly sent to England to see if he could discover the truth. When he subjected the Queen to what she called ‘a long harangue’ on 21 October, she declared that ‘her people were so overburdened with the war that it was time to think in good earnest of peace’. Holland remained distrustful, and reluctant to proceed without favourable terms being guaranteed. Already there were signs they would have to settle for a less extensive barrier than that set out in the Barrier Treaty of 1709, which Britain now seemed disinclined to honour. But though they scented trickery, Holland too had been financially drained by the war, and the Dutch had suffered dreadful loss of life. Prolonging the war was such a grim prospect that on 10/21 November the States General agreed that a peace conference could be held at Utrecht in the New Year. When the news arrived in England on 14 November, Mrs Masham exclaimed, with tears in her eyes, ‘God be thanked! … This will prolong the Queen’s life’.85
One major obstacle had been cleared, but the government next had to secure Parliament’s endorsement, which was going to be a struggle. Whig pamphleteers were pouring out propaganda insisting the war must be continued, and despite St John’s attempts to stem the tide by arresting a dozen printers, the nation remained ‘half bewitched against a peace’. The fact that both Oxford and the Queen were ill in November 1711 enabled the meeting of Parliament to be postponed but, as Swift acknowledged, what really caused the delay was that ‘the Whigs are too strong in the House of Lords; other reasons are pretended, but that is the truth’. Oxford had dealings with Whigs such as Somers, Halifax, and Somerset but could not persuade them to favour peace, even though Somers provided no rationale for carrying on the war other than ‘he had been bred up in a hatred of France’.86
The ministry were alerted that the Whigs planned to mount a lurid show on 17 November, the anniversary of Elizabeth I’s accession. Pasteboard figures of the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender were to be carried through the streets to the cry of ‘No peace on the present terms!’ before being ceremonially burnt. Such spectacles had been a feature of the Exclusion Crisis thirty years earlier, inflaming public feeling. Just in time, the mannequins were seized and the procession banned, much to the Queen’s relief. She wrote to Oxford ‘I look upon it as a great happiness that the mob was disappointed of their meeting, for God knows of what fatal consequence it might have proved’.87
It was still uncertain what attitude the Duke of Marlborough would adopt towards peace. Perhaps he would embrace the opportunity for a well-earned retirement, but the ministry were taking no chances. Earlier in the year the government scribe Mrs Manley had sought to exploit the squirearchy’s anti-Semitism by claiming in The Examiner that the warmongering Whigs were in league with Jewish profiteers. As she put it, they had sought ‘reinforcement from the circumcised’, one of whom was the army’s bread supplier, Sir Solomon de Medina. Mrs Manley found it scandalous that a young Whig Duchess – almost certainly Marlborough’s daughter, the Duchess of Montagu – had attended a ball given by Medina and had appeared not ‘in the least disgusted at giving her hand to dance in partnership with a frowzy Jew’.88 Now the administration decided to see if they could extract information from Sir Solomon that could be used against Marlborough.
When questioned earlier that autumn by a Commons committee, Medina had admitted that he had given Marlborough money from his bread contracts, amounting cumulatively to £63,000. Marlborough immediately explained to the Commissioners for Public Accounts that he had used this money to gather intelligence. He volunteered that in addition he had taken a commission of two and a half percent from foreign rulers paid by Great Britain to supply the allies with troops. He produced a warrant signed by the Queen in 1702 authorising this, although it had long since expired. The sums deducted came to at least £175,000, but the government put the figure much higher. Although Marlborough claimed that this too had been spent on military intelligence, it is unlikely that such an enormous amount would have been needed for such purposes. Possibly some of the money had indeed gone into the general’s pockets but, if so, he certainly deserved it more than St John, whose own corrupt practices did not deter him from hounding Marlborough.89
The Queen was very shocked when Oxford informed her what had emerged. Possibly too, she was alarmed to hear that at The Hague Marlborough had been busily conferring with Dutch politicians and foreign ministers, for it seemed likely he had urged them not to countenance peace. On 15 November Anne wrote to the Lord Treasurer, ‘The news you sent me … concerning the Duke of Marlborough is something prodigious and … his proceedings since, I think … very extraordinary’.90
Having returned to London on 17 November, Marlborough met with the Queen next day at Hampton Court. Any hopes that he would acquiesce in ending the war were immediately dispelled: he told Anne that the only object of peace was the introduction of the Prince of Wales, and that her life would not be safe thereafter. As Bishop Burnet recorded, the Duke ‘found her so possessed that what he said made no impression’. Over the next few days Marlborough refused to attend Cabinet, giving out ‘that he would not do it, and that he was happy for all the nation to see that he did not have a hand in such a peace as was making’.91
Oxford knew that he would have to neutralise Marlborough. It is not clear how hard he found it to persuade Anne of this, but by 15 December the Earl was confident enough to inform the Grand Pensionary of Holland that the Duke would be dismissed.92 Marlborough, however, was far from being the ministry’s only problem. The Whigs had secured an unlikely ally in the shape of the High Church Earl of Nottingham, whom they had approached through Marlborough and Godolphin. Deeply embittered by his continued exclusion from office, Nottingham had indicated he would work with them on condition that the Whigs allowed the passage of an Act against Occasional Conformity. To secure a majority against the ministry, the Whigs were willing to betray their allies, the dissenters. They consoled themselves that Nottingham had agreed that his bill would be relatively mild, drafted ‘with all possible temper’, and they may also have reflected that if they succeeded in bringing the government down, they could repeal the measure later. When the dissenters expressed dismay at being offered up for sacrifice, the Junto informed them that, at this time of crisis, the overwhelming necessity was ‘to unite against the common enemy … Popery’.93
Oxford was busily canvassing peers for their votes, and calculated that he could count on a majority of ten in the House of Lords. The Queen too played her part. One anonymous letter reported that ‘as severe a closeting as has been known in England was put in practice’. Jonathan Swift later accused her of being too languid, alleging that she showed ‘perfect indifference’ to the fate of the ministry when talking with one nobleman, but this was unfair. Although she failed to change the vote of a single peer she undoubtedly did her best, having interviews with the Dukes of Marlborough, St Albans, and Grafton; the Earls of Dorset and Scarborough; and Lord Cowper. She also spoke with the Bishop of Salisbury, Gilbert Burnet, who responded with an apocalyptic vision. He told her that if Philip V kept Spain, all Europe would shortly be delivered ‘into the hands of France … and we were all ruined; in less than three years time she would be murdered and the fires would be again raised in Smithfield’.94
Oxford hoped to turn around public opinion by employing Swift to present the arguments in favour of peace. On 27 November his tract The Conduct of the Allies was published. This stated that Great Britain should never have fought as a principal in a war from which she had little to gain. Instead of sending armies to the Continent, she should have concentrated more on naval operations, but it was ‘the kingdom’s misfortune that the sea was not the Duke of Marlborough’s element’. Swift alleged that the Emperor Joseph had counted on securing a crown for his younger brother at English expense, pointing out that he had been a selfish ally who had pursued his own objectives in Italy and Hu
ngary to the common cause’s detriment. Swift accurately reminded his readers that, despite having far more to fear from France than had Great Britain, Holland had never fulfilled her quotas for ships or men. However, his claim that the Dutch thrived on a war ‘which every year brought them such great accessions to their wealth and power’ was a grotesque slander. As for the Duke of Marlborough, Swift asserted that his only reason for wanting to continue the war was ‘that unmeasurable love of wealth which his best friends allow to be his predominant passion’.95
The Conduct of the Allies was a runaway success, going into numerous editions. Almost immediately, however, it was trumped by another publication. Wanting to show solidarity with the Emperor Charles, who had sent a circular round German courts condemning the articles signed by Britain and France, the Elector of Hanover despatched his adviser Baron Bothmer to England to protest. On 28 November, Bothmer presented St John with a memorial by the Elector, denouncing peace in the strongest terms. In the view of George Ludwig, entering into negotiations on the basis on the ‘vague generalities’ offered by France, would cause ‘all Europe to fall into confusion and sooner or later into enslavement’.96
St John kept this from the Queen, but Bothmer circulated the memorial among various notables, including the Duke of Somerset. On 5 December it was published in The Daily Courant, and the Duchess of Somerset showed the paper to Anne. The memorial caused a sensation: ‘many thousands’ of copies were sold, with some being ‘printed on a large sheet to be preserved in frames’.97
The Duke of Somerset said that reading the memorial finally decided him to vote against peace, and he then worked hard to sway others, assuring doubtful lords that the Queen would not object if they opposed the ministry. Everyone in Parliament had to bear in mind that if they supported the government’s policy, they would incur the Elector’s enmity, blighting their prospects in the next reign. This meant, of course, that Tories who were undeterred from favouring peace now had strong reason to dread George of Hanover’s accession, prompting Oxford to observe ‘Whoever advised that memorial have given the succession a terrible wound’. Abbé Gaultier’s assessment to Torcy was that ‘Bothmer’s impertinent memorial much advances the affairs of [the Pretender] and does not retard our own’.98
On 7 December the Queen opened Parliament. In her speech she announced that, ‘notwithstanding the arts of those who delight in war’, a peace conference would open at Utrecht in January. She insisted that this was with the ‘ready concurrence’ of the States General, who had ‘expressed their entire confidence in me’.99
The opposition countered at once. In both Houses it was proposed to add a clause to the traditional address of thanks, stating that ‘No peace could be safe or honourable to Great Britain or Europe if Spain and the West Indies were allotted to any branch of the House of Bourbon’. In the Commons the Whig Peter King told St John that pretending the Dutch were happy about joining in peace talks was to treat MPs ‘like schoolboys’. The unhappy Secretary had to shelter behind his mistress, blustering, ‘They had their answer in the Queen’s speech, which assured them of it’. Observers concurred that the opposition had much the best of the Commons debate, although when the question was put to the vote, the ministry secured a majority.100
In the Lords the Queen watched as the Earl of Nottingham made a long speech demanding the address be amended. He was supported by Godolphin, who warned peers that the proposed peace ‘would make them and all their posterity the vilest slaves’. Lord Anglesey objected that the country ‘might have had a peace, a good one too, after the battle of Ramillies’, implying that the Duke of Marlborough had blocked it then in his own selfish interests. At this Marlborough leapt up ‘and spoke like a Roman general’. ‘Making a bow towards the place where her Majesty was’, he said he was glad for an ‘opportunity … of vindicating himself’ in her presence, as she more than anyone knew the injustice of such claims. He wanted peace, he said, but not of a kind ‘that must ruin both her self, her subjects and all the world about her’.101
The Earls of Wharton and Sunderland both gave impassioned speeches, but the ministry received no assistance from the Dukes of Shrewsbury and Buckingham, who remained silent. Oxford tried to put off the vote on a technicality, only to be exposed for misunderstanding Lords procedure. When the House divided, the additional clause was approved by a majority of eight. As the results were announced the Earl of Wharton mocked the ministers by placing his hands around his neck in the form of a halter, indicating that hanging was their likely fate.102
As her ministers reeled from this setback, the Queen left the House of Lords. She caused further panic when the Duke of Shrewsbury asked if he or another government supporter should escort her from the building. ‘She answered short, “Neither of you” and gave her hand to the Duke of Somerset, who was louder than any in the House for the clause against peace’.103
The Whigs were naturally jubilant, believing that before long they could force the Queen to dissolve Parliament. They envisaged that in the New Year they would be invited to form a ministry, with Somers as Lord Treasurer and Nottingham (who introduced his Occasional Conformity Bill on 15 December and saw it quickly pass both Houses) Lord President. Oxford would then be impeached.
Most of the ministers and Swift were gripped by terror. Their fears that Anne intended to desert them deepened when Abigail hinted as much. Sure that ‘the Queen is false or at least very much wavering’, Swift roared, ‘This is all your damned Duchess of Somerset’s doings!’ Oxford pretended not to be worried, but could not hide that he was ‘mightily cast down’. By 15 December, however, he seemed more cheerful; four days later he told Swift, ‘Poh, poh, all will be well’.104
On 21 December the ministerial counterattack began when it was announced that the Commissioners of Accounts had discovered irregularities committed by the Duke of Marlborough, which would be examined by the Commons in a month’s time. This was a blow for Marlborough, for the Queen had led him to believe he had nothing to fear on this score. When she had first seen him on 18 November, he had appeared ‘dejected and uneasy’ about the matter, whereupon Anne ‘put on the guise of great kindness and said “she was sure her servants would not encourage such proceedings”’. Now Marlborough went to her to complain about things being taken further, to which the Queen replied ‘She was sorry about that, but she was also sorry to see him vote against the peace’.105
More than this was necessary to save the government’s skin. The Queen’s reluctance to act may have stemmed partly from the unjustified belief that Oxford had been lax about cultivating support for the ministry, and that his problems were his own fault. She was also concerned that the ministers would insist that she dismiss the Duke of Somerset from his post of Master of the Horse. While she did not much mind losing Somerset’s services, she dreaded that he would force his wife to resign as Groom of the Stole, and was determined to avoid this. Above all, however, what seemed to be the only way of extricating the ministry from its difficulties filled her with abhorrence. A mass creation of new peers was necessary if the government was to recover control of the House of Lords, but Anne had always been guarded about handing out titles, or raising men higher in the peerage. Only in early December she had told Lord Cowper, ‘the House of Lords was already full enough. I’ll warrant you I shall take care not to make them more in haste’.106
The peers themselves did not welcome additions to their number, as was demonstrated on 20 December when they voted that the Scots Duke of Hamilton could not receive an English ducal title that brought with it a hereditary seat in the Upper House. In some ways this compounded Oxford’s problems, as the Scots representative peers were so outraged they temporarily ceased to support the government. Paradoxically, however, the Hamilton case did make the Queen more willing to assert her right to confer titles, as she considered ‘’twas pity the prerogative should be so lessened’. It also made her angry with the Duke of Somerset, who had pretended he would support Hamilton by proxy, when he knew ful
l well that only votes in person were allowable. Over the Christmas season Oxford wore down her resistance, as it was borne in upon the Queen that she had ‘no way of securing herself but exerting her power to protect her ministers’ and that, if she failed to do so, it would entail ‘sacrificing her present servants to the rage and vengeance of the former’.107 It was probably after a long meeting with Oxford on 26 December that Anne agreed she would create the requisite number of peers, and the Lord Treasurer wasted no time drawing up a list.
Unaware that the outlook was more favourable, Swift had been occupying himself writing a rude rhyme entitled The Windsor Prophecy. This was a vicious satire against the red-haired Duchess of Somerset, whom he called ‘Carrots’. Implying that, having murdered her former husband Thomas Thynne, she would progress to poisoning the Queen, Swift urged Anne to ‘bury these Carrots under a Hill’. As soon as Abigail Masham learned of the intended publication, she begged Swift to destroy all copies and ensure that none were distributed, as she knew an attack on the Duchess would only infuriate Anne. Swift acted too late to prevent the poem being circulated, and thus destroyed his own career. Greatly angered by Swift’s ‘endeavouring to bespatter’ her Groom of the Stole, the Queen commented grimly ‘that would have no influence on her to turn her respect from the Duchess’. While conceding that Swift was ‘good for some things’, she never forgave him, and when the Dean of Wells died in February 1712 she made sure Swift did not succeed him. Later Swift would write bitterly of how his ambitions had been permanently blasted ‘by an old red-haired murdering hag … and a royal prude’.108
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