Tuesday, 5 May 2015

WAS in Italy (3)

Continuing from where we left off, we now see the tentative but disastrous first attempts to climb into Italy via the Alps and the movements in central-northern Italy that led to the first battle.

Modena

On February 1st, 1742, Charles Emmanuel and the Austrian commander in Italy, the 64-year old Marshal von Traun, cut a deal (the Convention of Turin). A portion of the Piedmontese army (15,000 foot and 3,200 horse) would occupy Parma, Piacenza, and Pavia, and place itself under von Traun’s command. Von Traun would use these troops and his own to invade Modena. The King of Sardinia agreed to shut up about Milan until campaigning was over.
He also reserved the right to recall his men with a month’s notice (assuming a better deal could be made with the French). If all went well, Austria would have a decent defensive  position and Piedmont would have control of Modena – not high on Charles Emmanuel’s wish list, but a bargaining chip nonetheless. The only person who was not consulted in the matter was Duce Francesco III d’Este, ruler of Modena.

Aware that his small state was about to become a battleground, d’Este acquiesced in its occupation, but secretly contacted the Bourbons with a view to handing over the fortifications of Modena and Mirandola to them. In late March, von Traun, short of both cash and men, crossed the Po at Revere and entered Modena, while the Piedmontese guarded the flanks in
Parma and the Milanese. Initially welcomed by d’Este, the Allies paused. Charles  Emmanuel, who fancied himself a defender of the Church, would not agree to a crossing of the Panaro into the Bolognese, which was Papal territory. (Or, perhaps it was merely an excuse not to be dragged all the way to Naples).

Meanwhile d’Este signed a secret agreement with Spain (April 30th), denying to all and sundry that he had done anything of the kind. On the 6th of May, d’Ormea, representing Charles Emmanuel, confronted the duke with the text of the treaty. On May 10th, the Piedmontese crossed the Enza River into Modena, and by the 16th they were on the Panaro. D’Este was given until the end of the month to join the Allies or be declared an enemy (married into the Bourbon family, he was suspect in any case). The betrayer betrayed d’Este fled to the Spanish camp. Many of his men would later join him, but for now, they were under siege.

The Spanish were still organising themselves. Their army was not fully assembled and stocked until the end of April. It then advanced up the Via Æmelia to Bologna, but despite repeated urgings from Madrid, did not attack the enemy. De Montemar held a council of war to officially prove that attacking would be a bad idea. Still, the citadel of Modena,  commanded by the Cavalliere de Negro, a Genoese, was holding out. Something ought to be done to help. At this time, the Napolispans had 25,000 foot and 3,200 horse facing 25,000 foot and 5,000 horse on the other side of a formidable river. De Montemar decided to divert the Austro-Sardinians by taking Mirandola, on the lower Panaro. This operation involved shifting his base to Ferrara and marching across the enemy front. Von Traun was unperturbed. He had sufficient forces now (reinforced by 4,800 Croats and Slavonians) to hold the river and prosecute the siege of Modena simultaneously. He rather hoped de Montemar would attack him.

The Spanish established a bridgehead over the river, but declined to do more. Modena’s 3,000 defenders capitulated on June 29th. A short pause ensued. Maria Theresa, having
arranged a truce with Frederick of Prussia (Kleinschnellendorf), felt confident enough to attempt the reconquest of Naples and issued orders accordingly. This Charles Emmanuel would not agree to because Maria Theresa refused to reward him with any Milanese territory (and driving the Bourbons out of Italy entirely would mean decades of Austrian bullying).

Von Traun also had reservations – on operational grounds. But de Montemar’s army was in a bad way. The British had strengthened their Mediterranean forces (now under Admiral Mathews), being more committed to Continental involvement since the recent fall of their pacific chief minister, Robert Walpole. Three ships sent to the Adriatic were sufficient to cut the Spanish supply lines and destroy their siege train while it was still afloat.

Retreat

During July, de Montemar, unable to help the Duchy of Modena, retreated, first to Ferrara, and then to Rimini (August 3rd) via Ravenna, using the Po to move his heavy equipment
and supplies. The Allies followed, but were hampered by difficulties with their transport. It was not until the 7th of August that they encamped at Cesena, on the bank of the Rubicon.

De Montemar was now in a near panic. Rumours that Austrian troops from Trieste were to be landed behind him by the Royal Navy led him to retreat to Fano, and then over the Apennines. But by the 22nd of August he felt safe again. The Neapolitans were at Spoleto and his own men at Foligno, ready to cover the approaches to the Kingdom of Naples.

At this point both sides’ plans unravelled. Charles Emmanuel, with his HQ at Reggio, learned that Spanish troops based in France had invaded the Duchy of Savoy. By the 19th of August, he and his army were gone; the King of Sardinia urging the Austrians to respect the wishes of the Pope and leave the latter’s territory. Some Piedmontese units were dropped off at Bologna and Parma but most marched back to Turin.

Coincidentally, on August 19th Commodore Martin of the Royal Navy arrived off the port of Naples with 5 ships of the line, 4 smaller vessels, and 4 bomb ketches (carrying large
mortars). His instructions were to insist on Don Carlos withdrawing from the war. Non-compliance would mean the destruction of the town of Naples. This was very bad timing for
Don Carlos. Naples was already partially destroyed – by a major earthquake the day before. With 300,000 defenceless citizens under the gun, the King of Naples had little choice.
And anyway, he was only in the war because his mamma made him. This left the Spanish with only 13,000 men (1,300 horse) – too few to take advantage of the disappearance of the
Sabaudians.

[Less well known is a second bit of gunboat diplomacy off Genoa. Executed soon after the Naples affair, it brought a republic that had been leaning toward the Bourbons back to strict neutrality, and allowed Britain to unload her yearly Austrian subsidy at that port, rather than having to go all the way round to Trieste.]

Respecting the Pope’s wishes, and too weak to advance in any case, von Traun and his remaining 10,000 men retired behind the Panaro for the winter. De Montemar and de Castelar, after receiving peremptory orders to attack in early September and failing to do so, were relieved of command and replaced by the Conde de Gages. For the next four years, this would be his war. A Walloon who had risen from the ranks to become a field marshal, de Gages soon restored the army’s morale. He was an excellent soldier and commander; unfortunately, he was resented as a foreigner – the usual story. Charged with attacking, de Gages advanced to Bologna, arriving there on October 5th, but with the season so advanced, chose to go into winter quarters himself.

DINING AT THE SAVOY

“[Savoy is] a barrier between us and France…it keeps her at a distance, so that she cannot suddenly fall on Piedmont.”
Charles Emmanuel

While von Traun and de Montemar’s armies danced the saraband, things had been heating up in the West. Don Felipe, the Queen of Spain’s second son, asked to go with de Montemar to Spain, but his mother demurred, suggesting he instead attend to his new wife, who was with child. Then, of course, the naval situation became unfavourable. It will be remembered that a third portion of the expeditionary army (13,700 foot and 3,800 horse) had still to sail.
This force, gathered at Barcelona, was placed under the command of the Conde de Glimes and ordered to march overland (withFrench permission) to Antibes.


[Antibes was the normal staging post when taking ship to Genoa or the Tuscan coast, since the road along the Riviera itself was virtually nonexistent.]

De Glimes marched out with the army, and the Infante followed in state, with 24 coaches, 59 barouches, 27 wagons, and 462 mules. Languedoc and Provence were impoverished by his passing, and the peasantry outraged by the indiscipline of the Spanish soldiers. Leaving Madrid in February 1742, and Barcelona in March, the Infante arrived at Antibes in April. The army caught up with him in May.

Some months of waiting now ensued. Sea transport to Tuscany or Genoa was out of the question. The King of Sardinia had garrisoned his borders in strength, particularly the line of the Var River in the County of Nice, and in any case, the French were still deep in hopeful negotiations with him. Now came one of those wonderful little moments that make 18th Century politics so much more interesting than those of the present day.

The Queen of Spain had a suggestion for Charles Emmanuel. Why not take advantage of his “month’s notice” clause to withdraw his services from Austria, and at the same time strip the fortress of Mantua of its defences. He rebuked the Queen for such a dishonourable suggestion. Infuriated, she ordered an immediate attack on Charles Emmanuel’s possessions.

For the French, the best route of attack into Italy was a central one, staged from their bases in the Dauphiné, but the Spanish just wanted to cause damage. Deeming the Var too formidable, de Glimes (much to the relief of the inhabitants of Antibes) marched north to attack the Duchy of Savoy – in April, Louis XV had given permission for the Spanish to stage attacks from French territory. Arriving at Barcelonnette on August 13th, de Glimes there contemplated a French suggestion of moving into Piedmont but thought better (or worse) of it. Instead he marched to Briançon and over the Col de Galiber to St Michel de Mauriennne.

Savoy was more or less empty of defenders. It could not be adequately defended, lying on the wrong side of the Alps, with all lines of communication snowbound in winter. The Spanish contented themselves with occupying the southern reaches of the duchy, around Montemélian, and with nothing further to do beyond alienating the local population, went into billets.

A Bad Mistake

The news reached Charles Emmanuel at Reggio. Reaching Turin by September 10th, the King held a council of war. He was advised by d’Ormea not to attempt a relief operation,
especially so late in the season, but some of his generals were eager for action. 14-15,000 men were assembled, most at Aosta, but some at Novalesa (by Mont Cenis).

De Glimes had detachments at Moutiers and St. Jean, and posts at St. Michel, St. André, and Modane. The main Piedmontese column from Aosta was ordered to cross the Little St. Bernard Pass and clear the valley of the Isère River. This column would also send detachments via the side valleys to cut off the Spaniards’ retreat. The column at Mont Cenis was to do likewise with the valley of the Arc, isolating the defenders with flanking detachments that would converge on Moutiers.

De Glimes did not wait to discover whether this was a good plan or not, simply retreating everyone over the French border at Fort Barraux. (In mitigation, he had fears for the Infante’s safety after a local Abbé maliciously suggested nothing would be easier than a Sabaudian kidnapping). The French kindly sent word to Charles Emmanuel that an attack against the Spanish on their soil would be considered an act of war.

For Charles Emmanuel, the question remained whether to stay in Savoy over the winter, or leave. He chose to stay, and secured the border, while sending a letter of protest to the
French and other interested powers. De Glimes received the usual order to attack from Madrid, plus some reinforcements, but declined and sent a request for even more reinforcements. De Glimes was then sacked. The Queen of Spain also said she wished she could sack Don Felipe, calling him “the second edition of Montemar” and ferociously declaring it would better for him to be dead than dishonoured.

De Glimes’ replacement was the cordially detested Marqués dela Miña (he had been Ambassador to France at one time). De la Miña was not skilful, but he was reliable. He once stated he would march his army into the sea if ordered to do so.

Arriving at Fort Barraux on December 5th, de la Miña first told de Glimes he was fired, and then contemplated the latter’s army. The Spanish now had 20,000 well-rested men against
10,000 rather worn Sabaudians. Charles Emmanuel had positioned his men well, in an arc from the Château d’Apremont to Montmélian, to the Isère, to La Rochette,barring all routes into Savoy from Fort Barraux. His main body lay at Montmélian. De Glimes had been counselled to flank this position by bridging the Isère, feinting against d’Apremont on his
right, and doubling back to cross the river and occupy Fréterive, cutting the Piedmontese retreat. This plan was too complicated for de Glimes, who chose to do nothing instead. And, when he left the army, he neglected to inform de la Miña about the plan.

The latter’s own plan was superficially similar, but much less ambitious. The attack would be made at d’Apremont (on the Spanish right), with a demonstration on the Isère. The advance was begun on December 18th. Charles Emmanuel drew his army up at Francin to cover all eventualities. When he was satisfied that the action on the Isère was a feint, he closed up to d’Apremont, and also placed a watch on Chambéry (the old capital of Savoy).

For several days the two armies faced each other across an impracticable marsh. The Sabaudian garrison of d’Apremont capitulated. Unable to challenge an army twice his own in size, the King of Sardinia issued orders for a general retreat (December 28th) over the passes to Piedmont. The Spanish followed in a leisurely manner, letting the weather do most of the work for them. A rearguard action was magnified by de la Miña into a glorious
victory (and he received a promotion to Captain-General in consequence). However, even the Spanish found it impossible to pass the mountains. They went into winter quarters.

Charles Emmanuel later declared that this campaign was the worst mistake he ever made, and absolutely refused to try it again. Thousands of Piedmontese soldiers died of exposure and exhaustion, or were crippled for life. The failure also damaged his credibility as an ally – the Austrians suspected him of reaching an accommodation with the Spanish. The latter retained Savoy for the duration of the war.

THROWING DOWN THE GAGE

“I hope that your Majesty will also be good enough to obtain the establishment of the Infant Don Philip, my son, the Infanta, your daughter. Your Majesty certainly could not give me a
greater pleasure than that.”
Philip V to Louis XV; from a letter of condolence on the death of
Cardinal Fleury.

The Battle of Campo Santo was an affair of honour rather than a serious attempt to invade Lombardy. Since October of 1742, the armies facing each other over the Panaro had been in winter quarters. The Spanish, under de Gages, had lost the Neapolitans, but received enough reinforcements  (mainly amnestied deserters, but also new troops brought in by
blockade runners) to bring their strength up to 15,000 men. The Austrians were much weaker, although by the time the campaign opened they would have 11,800, including some
Piedmontese. But the Panaro was a formidable obstacle.

The fly in the ointment was the Queen of Spain, who, after the “great victory” in Savoy, believed Charles Emmanuel was done for. Now de Gages should finish off the Austrians and complete the conquest of Italy. De Gages ignored her letters for a while, but eventually he received one (January 31st 1743) that told him either to attack or resign. He had three days to decide. Ejaculating the Spanish equivalent of “Jawohl, mein Führer!” the marshal concentrated his men at Bologna and plotted the best way to get at the enemy.

[Since it took a minimum of three weeks for a letter from Madrid to reach Bologna, one suspects The Farnese of gauging how many letters it would require to get a particular commander moving and just sending them all off one after another without waiting for a reply. “Let’s see, 8 for Gages, 10 for la Miña, 12 for Glimes, 1 for Montemar– oh, we only need a letter of recall for him…”]


Ideally, the Spanish ought to chase off the Austrians and lay siege to Mirandola or Modena. However, de Gages’ siege train lay at Orbitello (north of Rome; sent there by de Montemar
months before, with a view of loaning them to the Infante… or something… who knew for sure with Montemar). So it would be a straight fight for the sake of Spanish honour and de Gages’ job.

Using the ruse of a grand ball held the same day, the Spanish left Bologna on the 1st of February, bridging the Panaro at Campo Santo (“Holy Ground”) on the 3rd. The enemy was still commanded by von Traun, not the easiest man to deceive. Von Traun knew of the Spanish move from spies in Bologna. Although weaker, he had the advantage of position, and, he felt, in quality of troops. The Sabaudian garrisons of Parma and Piacenza, and Austrian forces north of the Po, would not be required. By the 5th, his army was  concentrated at Bomporto.

The day before, de Gages had marched up the Austrian side of the river, got halfway to Bomporto, and learned that the Austrians were ready for him. He retired toward Campo Santo, hoping to cross the river before he was caught. Encamped at the bridgehead, the Spanish were funnelling their baggage across the river, but progress was slow. Eventually things became so snarled that a whole day had to be set aside to sort out the tangle. By now the Austrians were camped only three miles away, and obviously intended to attack. Unable to retreat without heavy losses, de Gages formed up for battle.

                                                            To be continued…….


Austrian SYW: IR29 Alt-Wolfenbüttel




For the next few weeks I will be showing you plenty of Austrians from the WAS/SYW. These are big battalions of 24 figures each and are all Crusader Miniatures (28mm) except for one Front Rank officer who won his place for variety's sake.

This is IR 29 (numbers were not introduced until 1769) and it's inhaber was Duke Carl von Branschweig-Wolfenbüttel until 1760 when Loudon took over. It was a hard fighting regiment and participated in most of the battles around Silesia.

Monday, 4 May 2015

WAS in Italy (2): Biography of Elizabeth Farnese, Queen of Spain




Elisabeth Farnese (1692 – 1766)

Officially, Queen Consort of Spain. Only daughter of Odoardo II Farnese, Duke of Parma, son of Ranuccio II Farnese, Duke of Parma. On her mother’s side, she had ties to several German houses: the Elector Palatine of the Rhine, Hesse-Darmstadt, Saxony, Brandenburg, Prussia, Cleves, Cleves-Jülich, Cleves-Jülich-Berg, not to mention the Imperial House itself. A description from 1721, by the French Ambassador, Saint-Simon (when she was 28): “The Queen shocked me by her face, marked, scarred, much disfigured by smallpox… She was well-built, at that time thin, but her throat and shoulders beautiful, shapely, full and white, as were her arms and hands; a well-set figure, an easy carriage, slender and short waist; she spoke French very well, with a slight Italian accent; the words well-chosen and found without effort; her voice and enunciation most agreeable. A gracious, constant, natural charm, without the slightest affectation, accompanied her conversation, and varied her expression. She united an air of kindness and of politeness, of the precise degree appropriate, often amounting to a friendly familiarity, with a dignity and majesty which never left her. From this combination it came about that when one had the honour of seeing her privately, always, be it noted, in the presence of the King, one felt at one’s ease, without being able to forget who she was, and one was soon accustomed to her face…”

Ambitious, and containing a fiery, imperious temper, she was kept in seclusion until married by proxy at twenty-one to Philip V of Spain (1714). The Prince of Monaco’s report on her “advantages” included the following statement: “Heart of a Lombard, wit of a Florentine; she has a will of her own.” The marriage was arranged by Cardinal Alberoni and the Princess Orsini,
the pre-eminent woman at the Spanish Court, who hoped to keep Elisabeth under her thumb. This she completely failed to do, and found herself dismissed. Elisabeth very quickly gained ascendancy over her weak husband.

In her early years she was guided by Cardinal Alberoni as the two Italians sought to reacquire Spanish territory in Italy. Elisabeth was so keen that when the French threatened to invade Spain she placed herself at the head of a portion of the Spanish army. Although Sardinia and Sicily were taken, the Quadruple Alliance against Spain dashed her hopes. One condition of the peace terms was the dismissal of Alberoni, another, the return of Sicily. To make matters worse, Philip V abdicated in favour of his heir. However, the young king died after reigning only seven months, and Philip was recalled.

As Philip took less and less interested in affairs of state, and more and more interest in his diseases, real or imaginary, Elisabeth began to direct Spain’s policy. Distrusting advice from the Court (remembering the Princess Orsini) she took no counsel, and began to focus her efforts on
obtaining duchies in Italy for her sons – regardless of the cost to Spanish interests. In 1736, during the War of the Polish Succession, her son Don Carlos obtained the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies by force of arms. Don Carlos became King of Spain in later life. Spanish involvement in the War of the Austrian Succession revolved solely around the need to give a duchy to Elisabeth’s other son, Don Felipe. (She had a third surviving son, Infante Luis Antonio, but he was early put in holy orders, and had been Primate of Spain since 1735). At the end of the war, Don Felipe was made Duke of Parma, founding the line of Bourbon-Parma. King Philip died in 1746, at which point Elisabeth lost all influence in Spain and was forced into retirement. She survived her husband by some twenty years.

                                                      To be continued..............
                                                     

Hanoverian Converged Grenadiers


Here are the grenadiers from six Hanoverian regiments - indeed the six I recently painted. The Hanoverians had quite small grenadier companies and their deployment in the early SYW is quite complicated - more often than not they were retained within their parent battalions and if they were separated, then this was temporary. Later on in the war they are converged on a permanent basis.

Figures are from Crusader with the Officer, with the astonished expression, coming from Foundry's somewhat strange British SYW range.

Sunday, 3 May 2015

WAS in Italy (1)


The portrait above is of  Elizabeth Farnese, the Italian Queen of Spain and undoubted main-mover of this event.  The map is an attempt to show the situation in Italy in the middle of the 18th century.

You know my interest in the SYW but recently I have become very interested in the WAS and in particular the Italian Theatre -and I use that latter word in both senses. The rulers and diplomats played with the states of Italy as if they were chips in a large poker game. - I'll bet you a Mantua and raise you a Modena.  So this period has exciting and quite unbelievable political machinations. Furthermore, and we are all wargamers here, it has pretty and small armies fused together in strange alliances that shift around.

The best study I have found was written by Ian Weir and Red Sash Games and it is produced in a PDF which they have kindly let me reproduce here on my blog. I will serialize this by breaking it down into more manageable parts as it is quite hard to follow the diplomatic waltz that will send many unfortunates to their deaths.

I will of course also paint up some of their armies so expect to see Piedmontese, Modenese, Neapolitans, Spaniards and Austrians marching splendidly off to war with some very jazzy flags and uniforms.

Lastly, Ian Weir wrote the original PDF in English 'English' but my wretched computer only likes American 'English. So I think, but I'm not 100% sure, it has converted all spellings to US appropriate. I apologize to my Anglo friends for this shocking state of affairs. Email me and I can send you the original PDF.

Queen’s Gambit
The War in Italy 1742-48

By Ian Weir and Red Sash Games

Part One
The Springs of War
“At this time there is a good opportunity to obtain something for the Infant, Don Philip, and at the same time I beg the King, my nephew, to think of his daughter on this occasion in order that their children may have something to live upon and may not remain cadets.” Philip V of Spain to the King of France, upon the news of the death of the Emperor Charles VI in 1740.

Of all the theatres of operation in the War of the Austrian Succession, the Italian is perhaps the most interesting, if not always the most dramatic. The series of campaigns, opening in 1742 and closing in 1748, make the Italian war the longest running of any of the subplots to this conflict. Moreover, while occurring in physical isolation from the rest of Europe, it still had tremendous political repercussions. Fought with armies of, on average, less than 40,000 men a side – often far fewer – the Italian campaigns saw a mixture of masterly inactivity, long marches and countermarches, trial after trial against the Alps, and vicious instants of combat that were, proportionally speaking, the most sanguinary of all the many battles that are incorporated within the War of the Austrian Succession. The fighting here did for the north Italian state of Piedmont-Sardinia what it did for Prussia, though the motivation was different: it turned a middle-ranking power into a dominant one. Like Frederick of Prussia, King Carlos Emmanuel of Sardinia’s decisions were driven by regional geopolitics, but since his lands were at the center of things, rather than on the periphery, best choices were much more difficult to determine. Indeed, because of his success, at not only preserving his state but also expanding it, Charles Emmanuel III has been deemed one of, if not the greatest statesman of his time.

Northern Italy, like the Low Countries, has always been a “cockpit” of war. The more so because of its geographic isolation: bounded on three sides by mountains, and on the fourth by the sea. Piedmont, at the rugged western end of the bowl, enjoyed the most favored location, supremely defended by the Alps and the tributaries of the Po. To the north of Piedmont, Swiss neutrality and Swiss arms were a sure protection. With the acquisition, in 1713, of the Duchy of Savoy and the western outlets of the Alpine passes, the mountain kingdom could easily hold her own against France. The latter, in consequence, hoped to keep Piedmont as an ally in order have free access to the plain of Lombardy. To the east and south of Piedmont lay a parcel of small states, some independent rivals, some ruled by the Habsburgs. The Austrians, though a powerful local force, would not dare to move against a state that could, at will, unlock the mountain gates for their hereditary Bourbon foes.

But this finely calculated balance was upset by Spain. The Spanish kings had, by the 1740’s, lost their original Italian possessions, bar the Presidii (four ports on the Tuscan coast and
one on Elba). Spain was not even supplying Europe with Popes any more. This state of affairs was particularly galling for the Spanish Queen, Elisabeth Farnese. Her native state of Parma,
ruled by her family for generations, was now under the Habsburg yoke. Parma had been part of the price paid to establish her son, Don Carlos, at Naples, Spain’s one regional gain. But the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies (Sicily and southern Italy) was the most backward and savage of all the Italian lands. Not only that, but Don Carlos felt it would be politic not to place Naples under direct Spanish control, but to rule it independently.
[Technically, the name Kingdom of the Two Sicilies applies to the Napoleonic era. In the 18th Century, there were really two kingdoms – Sicily and Naples – that shared a joint heritage, and under Don Carlos, a single ruler (much like Scotland and England). When he later became Carlos VII of Spain, Don Carlos renounced the throne of Naples in favour of his son,and this became standard practice for the family].

The Role of Spain
At the end of the War of the Spanish Succession, King Philip V of Spain had been forced by his grandfather, Louis XIV of France, to accede to the demands of his enemies, giving up his extra-Spanish lands in Europe, handing over Gibraltar and Minorca to the British, granting the British trade concessions in the Caribbean, and agreeing never to unite his crown with that of France. All of which was for public consumption. Privately, he reserved the right to change his mind when a suitable occasion arose. Despite his smouldering resentment, however, Philip was far too indolent to actually do anything, instead allowing his wives to govern his actions. His first wife – a political cipher – died in 1714. Her replacement turned out to be Elisabeth Farnese, heiress to the Duchies of Parma, Piacenza, and the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. Hand-picked by the powerful Princess Orsini, like the previous queen she was intended to be a mere pawn. This proved a major error of judgement on the Orsini’s part. Frederick of Prussia once
called Elisabeth “the Personification of Maternal Blindness, combining Spartan pride, English obstinacy, Italian finesse, and French vanity”.

From the first, Elisabeth dominated the Spanish Court and her hypochondriac husband (who, it may be said, loved her passionately). For Elisabeth, being the dominating presence was
simply a matter of survival. Spain in the 18th Century was the closest thing to a police state that the Age of Enlightenment had. The Russian Court might be a more dangerous place, but at least life there was interesting. In Spain one was not exiled from Court, one was exiled to it. The Court of Spain was a sepulcher. And Elisabeth was Italian.

Travelling from Parma to consummate her marriage in late 1714, she stayed some time with her aunt, who had been married to the previous king and was now living in exile in France. The new queen was left in no doubt as to her choices. Philip V was incapable of ruling himself, let alone ruling others. If Elisabeth did not take the reins, she would be nothing. Also, if (when) Philip died, she was guaranteed to become an exile. This explains Elisabeth’s thirty-year obsession with the establishing of her sons as independent rulers, preferably in Italy. It helped that Philip, too, wanted to see a resurgence of Spanish influence in Italy. Also, there was a natural affinity between Italy and Spain, with many grandees owning land in both countries; pro-Spanish factions existed in many Italian cities. Thus Elisabeth’s private desires soon became Spanish foreign policy. The years between 1714 and 1740 are filled with a tangle of
politics, but one or two features stand out. The Spanish began their “reconquista” with the War of the Quadruple Alliance (1718). This saw an unholy union of England and France (and the Emperor) against perceived Spanish aggression. At the peace table, Sicily was awarded to the Emperor; the Duke of Savoy was compensated with Sardinia; Parma and Tuscany were to be held for Don Carlos until he came of age. But the Emperor, Charles VI, insisted Don Carlos hold his lands as an Imperial fief. At first, the Spanish were so angry with the Emperor that during the 1720’s they made a marriage alliance with France out of spite (French policy was, as it had been for a century, still oriented toward the reduction of the House of Habsburg).
But the deal fell through. Policy dictated that Louis XV wed Maria Leszcynska of Poland, and the Infanta was returned to sender. Angrier with France than they had been with Austria,
the Spanish turned once more and became even tighter with the latter. For example, the Spanish recognised the Pragmatic Sanction (the right of the Emperor’s daughter to inherit his possessions). Also, Maria Theresa was promised to Don Carlos. This the British and their allies would not countenance. There was a brief war, with Gibraltar under siege (1727) and Spanish Trade at a standstill, during which it became obvious that the Emperor was not about to help Spain recover The Rock as he had promised, nor to marry his daughter to Don Carlos – the British had bought him off with their own recognition of the Pragmatic Sanction. As a sop to Spanish pride, Don Carlos was formally recognized as Duke of Parma (1732), with the right to inherit the Grand Duchy of Tuscany when the current Medici ruler died.

The Polish Succession

The next major incident was the War of the Polish Succession (1733-35). Louis XV was strongly inclined, as the head of his House, to recover Poland for his father-in-law. Also, some in his Administration felt the war would also be a good opportunity to attack Austria, and simultaneously help the Spanish branch of the family establish itself in Italy (the two sides were speaking to one another again, after the birth of the Dauphin ended any chance of Philip V actually acquiring France). The War of the Polish Succession was also to involve the King
of Sardinia. Brilliant in his own right, Charles Emmanuel III was ably assisted by Carlo Vincenzo Ferrero, the Marquis d’Ormea. D’Ormea followed a classic policy for the House of
Savoy: seek aid from France against Austrian pretensions and aid from Austria against French aggression.

At this particular juncture, Spain was regarded as a Sabaudian (a posh way of saying Savoy)
ally in the quest to add Milan to Charles Emmanuel’s possessions. With all or even part of the Milanese under Sabaudian rule, Piedmont-Sardinia would have a fine natural frontier on its eastern side. The deal made with Cardinal Fleury of France (Louis’ chief minister) was that in a war with Austria, Charles Emmanuel should receive Milan – and Mantua, if it were also conquered. Furthermore, Charles Emmanuel was to command any combined army in Italy (giving him the greatest amount of control over the course of events). The good Cardinal was ever a double-dealer. Elisabeth Farnese categorically refused to part with Milan, already promised to Don Carlos. So Fleury made a separate deal, promising Mantua, Parma, Piacenza, the Two Sicilies, and by unstated implication, Milan, to Spain. This was the Treaty of the Escorial, sometimes called the First Family Compact. [Escorial after the palace outside Madrid where the treaty was signed.] The war went well for the Bourbon cause, especially in Italy.

Charles Emmanuel did all the work in the Po valley, occupying Milan with a Franco-Sabaudian army. Under cover of this distraction, Don Carlos invaded Tuscany and the Two Sicilies, and successfully established himself in the latter territory. The Austrians counterattacked, but were defeated by Charles Emmanuel at Guastalla (1734). The King of Sardinia could have taken Mantua as well, but learning of Fleury’s betrayal, he dragged his heels. In the end, Bourbon unity was ruined by the classic ploy of “the separate peace” - the Emperor negotiating with his enemies individually. It was Fleury who dictated the final treaty, much to the dislike not only of Charles Emmanuel, but Elisabeth Farnese as well. The terms were as follows: France to recognize the Pragmatic Sanction; the ex-king of Poland to receive Lorraine; Francis Stephen of Lorraine to receive Tuscany in compensation, as well as the Emperor’s daughter’s hand in
marriage. This was a package deal, even though Maria Theresa, happily enough, was in love with him (and had refused the hand of Don Carlos shortly before). In addition, Don Carlos
would be formally recognized as King of the Two Sicilies and be awarded the Spanish Presidii. Austria would receive Parma and Piacenza, until then under Farnese rule, and would give
Charles Emmanuel certain portions of the Milanese to round out his territories. Parma and Piacenza were placed under Austrian governance; in 1737, Maria Theresa and Francis Stephen took up residence in Tuscany as Grand Duke and Duchess. These three territories
had been destined, in the Spanish Queen’s mind, for her son Don Felipe. And she understood that they were intended, in Austrian minds, as a springboard for the conquest of southern Italy.
Charles Emmanuel was not satisfied either. He had made a powerful enemy in the Queen of Spain, and received little in compensation. The Austrians did not particularly like him, even after he married Francis Stephen’s sister. And it was obvious that the French were not to be trusted.
[Something that is not always made clear is that the settlement of the War of the Polish Succession was not completed until 1738. Only a year later, Spain was engaged in an overseas war with Britain, and the Turks were soundly trouncing Austria. The year after that, the Emperor died and the nations began to contest his daughter’s right to retain the Imperial throne. Frederick of Prussia made the first move, but France, having pledged to support the Elector of Bavaria’s own claims to the Imperial throne (which they had betrayed by recognising the Pragmatic Sanction) soon plunged into the fray. It is possible, therefore, to view the Wars of the Polish and Austrian Succession, and also the Seven Years War, as a continuous struggle.]

WAR!

Watching the war unfold in its first year, the Spanish formed a low opinion of the chances of the House of Habsburg. Silesia, Bohemia, Upper Austria – the richest Habsburg provinces all stripped away. Elisabeth Farnese mocked Maria Theresa, calling her “the naked queen”. Planning began for the recovery of all Spanish lands “stolen” by the Habsburgs. France was asked to help (indeed, to do most of the work). But Cardinal Fleury replied that since the Spanish had previously renounced their claims and recognized the Pragmatic Sanction,
they really had no justification for war. France herself was busy supporting the Elector of Bavaria, and it was Fleury’s contention that by winning the Imperial election, all things would be added unto the Bourbon cause.

In Italy itself, no state was eager for war. The Habsburgs stripped their garrisons and no one moved against them. The great Republics – Genoa and Venice – had weak militaries. Don Carlos was still trying to convince his new subjects that he was a nice guy. The only other strong state was Piedmont, in many ways similar to
Prussia: centralized, authoritarian, agrarian, and always seeking to expand. Habsburg Lombardy was the logical victim, but Charles Emmanuel had to be careful. Most North Italians did not like centralized, authoritarian, agrarian states telling them how to think. Furthermore, joining the anti-Habsburg bandwagon might result in the Austrians becoming too weak to counterbalance his other enemy, the Bourbons. The King chose to wait and see.

As the year of 1741 progressed, Cardinal Fleury’s policies underwent a shift. His man in Germany, with whom he was ironically at odds most of the time, was the Maréchal de Belle-Isle. Belle-Isle, seeing the rapid conquest of Silesia by Prussia, advocated a return to the more aggressive methods of Louis XIV and the overt creation of a series of buffer states in Germany, and in Italy, to hem the Habsburgs in. Fleury agreed to send French troops to act as “auxiliaries” of Bavaria (saving France from the opprobrium of actually declaring war on anyone).

Spain, actively preparing for war, pressed repeatedly for free passage through southern France in order to invade Habsburg Italy. The French finally agreed, provisional to Piedmont being brought on board. It was assumed that the King of Sardinia would understand where his true interests lay.

Charles Emmanuel understood only too well. The Spanish had nothing to offer but blows, and France would eventually side with them. At best, he would receive the same treatment as in the last war: made to do the dirty work for nothing. On the other hand,
Austria would grant little and ask much, and even if he could form an alliance with Maria Theresa, the Habsburgs had their plate full north of the Alps.

Unfortunately the sand in the King of Sardinia’s glass was running out. On the plus side, he held the all-important Alpine passes and the last of their fortifications was nearly complete. Also, he had made certain he had a friend in the British, who had the eccentric habit of championing smaller states, in order to keep the powerful in check.


An alliance with the Bourbons was ruled out. But for safety’s sake, he had better make the appropriate gestures. In that way, he could also blackmail the Austrians into providing some support – with the British as intermediaries, perhaps a lot of support.

Dance of the Diplomats

Talks among the interested parties continued throughout 1741. As noted earlier, France stood aloof, but granted permission to the Spanish to enter Italy from French soil, provided they left Tuscany alone (otherwise France would feel bound to return Lorraine to Francis Stephen), and provided the Piedmontese became an ally. The Spanish offered to divide Italy with the latter. Charles Emmanuel’s minister, d’Ormea, replied that his monarch would be
only too happy to oblige, if France also got involved in the theatre, which of course, they had already stated they were not prepared to do.

D’Ormea then contacted the Austrians and informed them that Piedmont might be forced into an alliance against the Habsburgs if his king were not backed up by Austrian troops. Austria proposed a vague alliance without any conditions, then, when French soldiers were seen in the field with the Bavarians, offered some paltry concessions and the Genoese port of Finale (a former Imperial zone which was no longer theirs to give).

D’Ormea, with inside knowledge that Austria was desperate for Piedmontese aid, referred the matter to the British for mediation. He especially noted that any alliance must not have
terms conditional upon the outbreak of war, or the Spanish, getting wind of the treaty, would not attack in the first place (which shows some keenness on Charles Emmanuel’s part to
fight, after all).

Austria was advised to seek the aid of the larger powers, and to cut a deal with Prussia; Piedmont would be happy to join in a grand coalition against the Bourbons, who were otherwise too powerful. This was all just the usual diplomatic wind. But a provisional military convention was hammered out, allowing Piedmont to come to Austria’s aid if Lombardy were invaded. And the Alpine passes remained closed by virtue of Piedmont’s “strict neutrality”.

THE NAKED QUEEN
“…tell the Cardinal we can without difficulty at once transport to Italy 40,000 men who will join the 10,000 or 12,000 of the King of Naples. If Fleury wishes to negotiate you will let him know the minimum of the claims on which we shall insist; we shall consent to Tuscany being ceded to Prince Charles of Lorraine on condition that the Infant Don Philip be given all the Milanese with Parma, Piacenza, and Mantua.”

Instructions for the Spanish Ambassador to France, December 9th,
1741

Elisabeth Farnese was impatient. She had no desire to grant concessions to the King of Sardinia, who in her opinion had nothing to offer. And Cardinal Fleury was an old woman.
40,000 men were already assembled in Catalonia ready to begin the “reconquista”. Both Spain’s leading military man, the Duca de Montemar, and her own helmsman, José del Campillo, Secretary for Finance, War, the Navy, and The Indies (how’s that for centralization) believed the time to strike was now.

Fortunately for Spain, the British were behaving with more than their usual muddle-headedness. The Royal Navy was twice the size of the Spanish Fleet, but instead of bottling up potential enemies in port, they pursued a policy of commerce raiding and amphibious descents on Spain’s Caribbean possessions. Blockade duty did not bring in much prize money.

The abject failure of the last of these enterprises, the assault on Cartagena in April 1741, sent shockwaves throughout Europe. Britain feared for her Indies plantations and the largely civilian run Admiralty Board refused to augment the Mediterranean Squadron, at this time commanded by Admiral Haddock. A competent man, Haddock was given a set of tasks that would have boggled a master strategist. He was required to watch all the Spanish ports, and the French at Toulon, and protect Minorca, and see to the security of any British traders, and to prevent any Spanish squadron from reaching the West Indies. To fulfil his mission, Haddock had exactly 12 ships.

Thus it was comparatively easy for Spanish troop convoys to sail from Barcelona directly to Italy (November/December, 1741). Especially if shielded by a “neutral” French squadron
under Admiral de Court; Haddock felt that an attack by him might be seen as an attack on France, which would be exceeding his instructions sufficiently to ensure a court-martial. Two Spanish convoys got through safely but the third (and last) was thwarted.

Commodore Lestock had replaced Haddock, who was suffering from a general breakdown of health (how odd…). Lestock brought reinforcements. With 24 British warships at Port Mahon (the naval base at Minorca), the Spanish did not want to take the risk, and hid
with the French in Toulon. In any case, two round-trips across the Ligurian Sea had proved rather wearing on their merchantmen.

All the same, the Spanish now had 13,600 men at Orbitello (under the Duca de Montemar) and a further 11,700 (under the Marqués de Castelar) at La Spezia, in supposedly neutral Genoa. They were short on horses and artillery, but the Neapolitans would provide these. The latter, 10-12,000 strong (but as it turned out, with little artillery), led by the Duce di Castropignano, were already waiting at Spoleto, in the also-neutral but pro-Bourbon Papal States.

The last trick was to march across the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, the ruler of which they were at war with, without violating its neutrality and annoying the French. Here they were helped by Großherzog Francis Stephen himself – Maria Theresa’s husband – who authorized free passage to the Spanish so they could fight his wife’s army on the Po, and not in his duchy.

[This was not the archduke’s only schizophrenic act. He also sold grain to the Prussians so they could maintain their armies in Habsburg Moravia, and supplied Genoa when it was under British blockade. Business is business, and Vienna needed the money.]

The Spanish intended crossing the Apennines directly into Lombardy, but Charles Emmanuel, while continuing to allow the French to court him, warned the Bourbons that on the approach of a Spanish army, he would join with the Austrians in resisting them. This, the French completely understood, and agreed was the correct attitude (the Spanish hadn’t listened to their advice; too bad for them). Not wanting to be defeated in detail as he emerged from the Apennine passes, de Montemar, the Bourbon generalissimo, chose
to cross the mountains further south.

So, after rendezvousing with the Neapolitans, the combined Napolispan army assembled at Rimini on the Adriatic coast (end of March 1742). Despite losing over 10,000 men to desertion and sickness, de Montemar’s army posed a considerable threat. The Napolispans had 30,000 men to pit against 10,000 Austrians and an indeterminate number of Sabaudians that might or might not appear. (Over half the Austrian army in Italy, 13,600 men, had been
sent to Bavaria; they were doing good work there, but Lombardy was nearly defenceless).

The place to meet the Bourbons was the neutral Duchy of Modena, wedged in between the Papal States and Habsburg Lombardy. An invading army could advance from here via either bank of the Po and still retain a good line of communications. Conversely, if a defender occupied the duchy and blocked the crossings of the Panaro River on the south bank of the Po, no advance on either bank was practicable.

To be continued…………….

Friday, 1 May 2015

French SYW: Infantry Regiment Artois






Black Hussar have done a really fantastic job on these sculpts as they have conveyed the old-fashioned look of French infantry. Indeed you could use these figures from the WAS all the way through to the end of the SYW with just a difference to the cockade colour. I have used white because I intend using them for the inter-war period (against my Hessians) or earlier (in Italy in the WAS?) but black would be correct for the SYW. Additionally, I actually enjoy painting their faces as they are so expression-full.

The regiment was raised in 1610 by comte de Beaumont Saint-Vallier when Henri IV made his great preparations to fight the Habsburg. Until 1670, it ranked 6th among the Petits Vieux French regiments. During this year it ceded its rank to Royal Infanterie. In 1671 the regiment took the name of Chateauneuf. In 1673, the regiment took the name of the province of Artois when the regiment previously wearing this name received the privilege of becoming a royal regiment under the name of La Couronne Infanterie. The new Artois Regiment kept this name until the French Revolution.

This regiment counted two battalions and had prévôté (provostship).

During the War of the Polish Succession, the regiment served on the Rhine from 1733 to 1735.

During the War of the Austrian Succession, the regiment initially served in Munster on the Lower Rhine in 1741. In 1742, it was part of the French army who invaded Bohemia. In 1743, it was at Donauwörth in Bavaria. Then it served in Flanders from 1744 to 1748. The regiment fought at Pfaffenhofen, Germany, and Ventimille, Italy.

During the Seven Years' War, the regiment ranked 31st and was commanded by 1) from August 7 1747 Athanase Louis Marie de Loménie, comte de Brienne 2) from December 1 1762 to 1778 the marquis de Sarans.

The two battalions of this regiment operated in different theatres of operation for most of the Seven Years' War. The 1st Battalion remained in Europe whilst the 2nd was sent to Canada.