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There is a natural tendency to think of civilian morale as an issue little influencing policy-makers before the Revolutionary wars of the late eighteenth century. But even in the age of mercenaries and military contractors, governments were well aware that success in war to some extent depended on the willingness of ordinary folk to bear the burdens it entailed. Public opinion might be little considered when deciding whether or not to go to war, but once the decision to fight had been taken every effort was made to convince tax-payers, in particular, that it was in their interest to see it through. This was true as much of monarchical governments now often thought of as ‘absolutist’ as of republican regimes or limited monarchies. Indeed, a work that resolutely disdained the many-headed mob could still insist that the prince or his ministers should “le manier et persuader par belles paroles, le séduire et tromper par les apparences ... ou par le moyen de bonnes plumes, en leur faisant faire des livrets clandestins, des manifestes, apologies et déclarations artistement composées, pour le mener par le nez” (“manipulate and persuade [the multitude] with fine words, seduce and deceive it with appearances ... or by means of skilled pens, having them write clandestine pamphlets, manifestos, artfully composed apologies and declarations in order to lead it by the nose”).1 In our own dark days of spin and pr it is tempting to consider all communication a species of propaganda, rather than vice versa, just as in the broad sunlit uplands of liberalism there was a tendency to see newspapers somewhat naively as reflections of public opinion.2 When I began my own research on

‘Our Valiant Dunkirk Romans’: Glorifying the Habsburg War at Sea, 1622–1629