English historians, conditioned by the real or imagined excesses of later Angevin monarchs, are prone to portray Henry II's administration as burdening the baronage with taxes and extra-legal levies. Even Henry II's normally sympathetic biographer, W.L. Warren, could not escape perceiving “an element of financial extortion” in Henry's dealings with the barons. Warren finds in the pipe rolls a number of assessments to regain the king's good will or to put aside his anger. Included in this list are the fines levied against Hamo of Mascy, Gervase Paynel, Adam of Port (Kingston, co. Hereford), and Gilbert son of Fergus of Galloway. These debtors had much in common. They all played a role in the revolt of Henry's sons in 1173-1174, which led, in part, to their amercement. Adam of Port had been exiled for treason prior to his participation in the revolt, while Gilbert son of Fergus, a descendent of one of Henry I's many bastards, had caused the grotesque mutilation and death of his brother which appalled his royal cousin. All in all, these men were fortunate to have been left with their lives and most of their lands intact. It simply will not do to fix blindly upon unexplained fines from the record evidence to show the extortionist tendencies of the Angevin monarchs.

Since the publication of Christina Garrett's The Marian Exiles in 1938, historians have had to look outside the confines of England and into the structures of the various exile communities on the continent in order to comprehend fully the significance of the reign of Mary I. Garrett's argument was that the large number of Englishmen who emigrated to the continent in 1553 and 1554 represented not a headlong flight from persecution but an organized migration of English Protestants seeking a more felicitous religious climate with the tacit approval of the queen's government. These men and women functioned as a church in exile, responsible only to their own governors, and cut off from the traditional authority of the Crown. Thus, on returning to England after the accession of Elizabeth, this group constituted a coherent faction, the Puritan opposition, which was hostile to the conservative nature of the Elizabethan settlement and dedicated to the establishment of a Calvinist polity.

However, instructive as this theory may be for the emigre communities in Germany and Switzerland, it does not answer a number of important questions which arise from the political activities of the Marian exiles; nor does it adequately investigate the composition and conspiratorial policies of the two other major groups of Marian exiles, the French and the Venetian. Indeed, Garrett does not even discuss the existence of a separate company of expatriates resident in the Venetian Republic, even though in terms of political and intellectual history this community of exiles played by far the greatest role in the organized opposition to the rule of Philip and Mary.

The rise and fall of the office of sheriff is a frequent theme in English administrative history. In medieval times sheriffs were the principal representatives of the king in the local community and bore the king's authority and acted in his name. Their courts entertained a wide variety of criminal and civil proceedings. By Tudor times such powers and authority were things of the past. Edward IV had effectively ended the sheriff's power by removing all indictments before the sheriff in his tourn to the Court of Quarter Sessions of the Peace for trial. The sheriff's judicial powers passed to the justices of the peace and his military powers to the deputy lieutenants. What powers did remain were exercised under the supervision of the magistrates both in and out of formal sessions. When James I came to the throne in 1603, the once powerful sheriff presided at elections, distrained and sold goods for the payment of fines, summoned juries, hanged criminals, and carried out other miscellaneous tasks. For most gentlemen of England a year's tenure as sheriff was an expensive inconvenience.

By 1640, however, the sheriff was once again a public figure of some consequence. The first two Stuarts, especially Charles I, had turned to the sheriff to execute many of their financial and administrative programs. Three times James I ordered sheriffs to collect extra benevolences. It seemed to many that Charles I had used the office for inappropriate political purposes. A sheriff had to be resident in his county throughout his term of office so he could not serve in parliament. In 1625 Thomas Wentworth was appointed sheriff of Yorkshire, and the even more troublesome Edward Coke was appointed sheriff of Buckinghamshire. Two years later Walter Long, M.P. was appointed sheriff of Wiltshire, an affront to the electors of Bath who had recently returned him to the House of Commons. When the Long Parliament met in 1640, these events were remembered with considerable bitterness; and the Grand Remonstrance noted “the usual course of pricking sheriffs [was] not observed, but many times sheriffs made in an extraordinary way, sometimes as a punishment and a charge unto them, sometimes such were pricked out as would be instruments to execute whatever they would have done.”

The failure of the Anglo-French peace negotiations of 1761—the so-called Stanley-Bussey talks—is usually ascribed to two principal causes: British intransigence over the Canadian fisheries and, closely related, the inadequacy of William Pitt's diplomacy; the fact that he lacked both the technique and personality for successful negotiation. British historians in particular, have tended to assess the course and failure of the negotiations with exclusive reference to the policies of the elder Pitt, another example of the mastery that Pitt supposedly wielded over government and administration at this time. The picture they present is that of a domineering figure, subduing cabinet opposition to his extreme demands with the same harsh tactics he employed against defeated France. In the words of Kate Hotblack (taking a view which is still current), “Until his resignation in October, Pitt dominated the peace negotiations as he had dominated the war.”

The purpose of this article is to question this interpretation by showing that Pitt, leading political figure though he was, did not singly control the cabinet and its decisions, but worked more in collaboration with his coministers, most notably his fellow secretary Lord Bute, who played a much greater role in decision-making than has hitherto been recognized. Indeed, if any single factor proved decisive for the deliberations with France, it was their alliance—long in materializing, uneasy in practice, and brief in duration. While Bute sided with Pitt, the latter managed to prevail against his opponents in Council and Britain's policy remained firm; when early in August of 1761, Bute shifted support to the moderates, those favoring last minute concessions on the fishery, Pitt swiftly lost ground and resigned shortly after.

In his pioneering study of the British electoral system, David Butler notes that “One of the main problems of the historian of the second Labour Government is to discover what action the Liberals took to exact the fullest return for their support in the division lobbies.” Owing to the preponderance of economic issues in this period, however, scant attention has been focused on the constitutional question of electoral reform which had the greatest bearing on the relationship between the Liberal and Labour parties in Parliament. Robert Skidelsky's Politicians and the Slump, the most thorough economic and political analysis of the Second Labour Government, is curiously jejune on this subject. Recent biographers of Ramsay MacDonald and David Lloyd George, the Labour and Liberal protagonists, describe in detail a series of joint enterprises between the parties, but they fail to delineate the precise nature of their relationship in light of the critical electoral reform question. And Butler was never able to come to close quarters because of a paucity of primary sources. Now, however, it is possible to merge these separate strands, along with a neglected Conservative view, into a comprehensive explanation of the Liberal-Labour nexus.

Despite much suspicion by contemporaries, especially among Conservatives in Parliament and the press, of a supposed Lib-Lab “bargain, ” it was repeatedly denied by prominent Liberal and Labour members. In light of the inability of historians to produce even a shred of evidence to the contrary and the glaring lack of legislative cooperation, it must be concluded that there was never any formal alliance between the two parties. Nevertheless a strong, and as yet unspecified, attachment did exist as a result of the unique parliamentary circumstances emerging from the general election of 1929. What emerges is an unattractive picture of political manuevering, calumny, and subterfuge where the potential allies worked at cross-purposes—the object of the Government being to create conditions favorable to retaining office while the Liberals desired some greater prospect for attaining office in the future. Despite their interdependence, the party leaders were never able to reach an agreement on the vital issue of electoral reform, which would involve some possible sacrifice of their individual ends. The result was a process of mutual destruction which contributed to the fall of the Second Labour Government and opened the way for a Conservative bid for power.