Diverge and Conquer (Look to the West Book 1)

by Tom Anderson

  (It should be noted at this juncture the remarkable nature of the presence of an American ambassador. This was a notion that had only arisen a few years previously, in 1790, as one of the earliest acts of the Parliament of North America. It had been a point of argument by the autonomist and relatively radical Constitutionalist Party there that America should have equal representation overseas. In practice, both the American and British parliaments watered down the proposals sufficiently that only those nations with colonies bordering North America were given American representatives – primarily France and Spain – and that these were officially referred to merely as consuls, although in practice they were commonly termed ambassadors. The American ‘ambassador’ in Paris at the time was Thomas Jefferson, a prominent member of the Constitutionalist Party whose appointment there had largely been a way that Lord Hamilton’s moderate ministry could keep this brilliant orator safely a long way away.[151] At the time there was debate, as part of the Irish parliamentary reform argument, that the Kingdom of Ireland should also appoint its own ambassadors, and it is interesting to speculate how different the Parliament of Ireland’s response might have been if a hypothetical ambassador had been present alongside Frederick Grenville and Thomas Jefferson).

  It remains a sore point of debate even today whether the attack on Grenville and Jefferson was officially directed by any order from the NLA or whether it was a simple act of mob violence. In any case, even if the records had survived the de Lisieux era, it is not a distinction that is readily made. By this stage, and particularly later on, fear of the Consulate was such that any confident con man in France could gain anything he wanted by claiming authority from Robespierre. The new and frequently contradictory pronouncements coming out of the Tuileries daily only served to reinforce such an idea. In the end it is perhaps enough that the NLA did not denounce the attacks on the ambassadors, or even acknowledge them.

  Grenville escaped with a severe bullet wound to his right arm, forcing its amputation while he lay in a fever, hiding out in Calais. However, he survived to give a moving if chilling testimony of events to the British Parliament in September. Jefferson was not so lucky: his own personal sympathies to the Revolutionary sentiment meant nothing to the mob, and his body was never found. When Thomas Paine attacked this monstrous act in the NLA, he was removed by the Consulate, imprisoned and then given the chirurgien’s deadly kiss early in the following year. The Reign of Terror had begun in earnest: no-one was safe.

  These atrocities, accompanied by reports of several more minor attacks on British and American sailors in French ports fallen to the Revolutionaries, served to turn most of Parliamentary and public opinion in Great Britain against the Revolution. By mid-August the reactionary option had won out, and Parliament officially recognised King Louis XVII and declared the Consulate and NLA illegal. On September 2nd, 1795, the British Parliament voted 385 to 164 in favour of a declaration of war on the Republic of the French People of the Latin Race—only just beating the NLA’s own pre-emptive declaration of war on Britain. By the time the news reached America in November, the story had if anything grown to more mythic proportions, and the Parliament of North America voted almost unanimously in favour of the war.

  It would not be for many more months that the news reached other potential theatres of conflict, some of which would become highly important: India, the West Indies and La Pérouse’s Land. But for the Consulate and the people of Republican France, Britain remained nothing more than a distant noise. Though Spanish troops moved into Navarre, it was Austria that was the greatest threat to the Republic, and even now the ramshackle Revolutionary armies were moving to face the forces of Emperor Ferdinand IV…

  Chapter 24: A Revolutionary War

  Wars are always good for science, and science is always good for wars.

  - John Farman (OTL)

  *

  From – “A Societist Study of Revolutions, Volume III” by JuAn Lopez of the Instituto Sanchez (originally published in Novalatina 1959—unauthorised English translation 1968):

  Thinkers throughout the world, both Societist and nationalistically blinded, have debated the import of the Revolution in France almost since the day Le Diamant was killed. One particular topic of interest is the spread of the revolution, and what consequences the character of the revolution had on that spread.

  It is unsurprising that it was the immediate neighbours of what was then only vaguely considered “France” who were first to experience Revolutionary ideals. The notions of the revolution spread by a variety of means, and depending on whether the speaker was a true believer or a person fleeing the perceived oppression of the revolution, would necessarily determine the character of the revolution envisaged by those who listened.

  Furthermore, it is impossible to ignore, however much we might want to, the effects of the vile poison of Linnaean Racialism within the Revolution, here taking the form of Panlatinism. This variant, unlike many others, is now universally condemned even within the nationalistically blinded geographic regions. The Panlatinist character of the Revolution – or perhaps simply Latinist is a more accurate term in its early days, before the revolutionaries’ twisted notion of unionism took hold – further determined which states would be primarily exposed to revolutionary ideas.

  Notably the Italies, Spain and Portugal were strongly evangelised to in the early days of the Revolution. The latter two regions of considered statehood easily cracked down on the scattered outbreaks of revolution within their own borders, aided by the fact that the strongly anti-Catholic character of the revolution turned large portions of their own devout populations against it. The Italies arguably had the same advantage but their own regions of considered statehood were too small and ineffective to present such a strong response. Thus, we may see the vindication of two Societist teachings: that the larger and more unified the state, the stronger it is – to infinity; and that an avowedly atheist universal movement will indeed successfully unite the world, but only against itself.

  These teachings are arguably further supported by the eventual fates of the small republics in the Italies, notably the Latin Republic of Liguria (formerly Genoa) and the Latin Republic of Lucca (formerly Tuscany, after forcing Grand Duke Charles to flee into exile). However, that is not a matter for this early history.

  At this point we should consider the views of the Noveltist school of Reactivist thought among the Tory interpretation of history, no matter how repugnant we may find them for other reasons. The Noveltists argue from the results of the ‘revolutionary halo’, as they term it, that ultimately what many of the people of France and other revolutionary areas wanted was a sense of newness, toppling the old order, rather than any specific change.

  The Noveltist writer Sir George Smith-Stanley pointed out that this may explain some of the otherwise inexplicable and nihilistic aspects of the revolution, changing not only those aspects of society which were objectively in need of reform (such as royal France using at least six different systems of measurement), but also petty and unimportant items simply for the sake of change. Smith-Stanley argues that the fossilised Italies, like France itself, were ripe for the spirit of this revolution. Flanders, by contrast, had had a major change in its constitution and rule only recently and that this, together with the fact that Charles Theodore I was reasonably popular,[152] explains why the revolution never got very far in Flanders. The Prince-Bishopric of Liége, however, saw what turned out to be a strategically important outbreak of revolution after the initial indecisive battles of late 1795, when revolutionary ideas had had a chance to leak in from France. The fact that Liége was francophone must also be considered.

  Of course, we need not consider the alarming conclusions that Noveltist writers draw from their arguments, and the lavishing praise they and their Whig counterparts place upon the British parliamentary system as supposedly the most resistant to revolution—despite all the evidence of the history books in front of them.

  Ultimately, however, the s
pread of the revolution cannot be fully understood, alas, without considering the vulgar results of the concomitant military action…

  *

  From: “Revolutionary Ideas in Warfare” by Peter William Courtenay, 4th Baron Congleton (Vandalia Province, Virginia), 1925—

  While it should be obvious to any gentleman, I am forced to issue the disclaimer that an admiration for any Jacobin idea in warfare does, clearly, not constitute an endorsement or admiration for Jacobin ideas in general.

  …

  The Flemish War (1795-7) was indecisive in its early stages, but is notable for the use of several revolutionary tactics and weapons by the then-ramshackle French Republican Army. It can be argued that it was these novelties that allowed the French to hold off the more disciplined Austrians for long enough to ensure the eventual reorganisation of the army into a more effective fighting force.

  The Austrian Army of Flanders was under the command of General Johannes Mozart,[153] who understood that he was fighting an idea and that decisive tactical victories, to sap enemy morale, would be more important than attempting to destroy altogether the vast armies he was facing. This also meant it was rather difficult to predict the fighting strength of any given French force, as whether they were veterans or new recruits was often hard to discern until battle was joined. The new recruits, particularly the Legion du Diamant, were notoriously erratic and tended to fight quite acceptably when morale was high but otherwise were prone to desertion when they saw what war was truly like. Mozart’s strategy exploited this.

  The situation in Lorraine was quite different, in which Austrian troops were often welcomed as liberators by the population. Much like the people of Brittany and Navarre, the Lotharingians – whose former ducal lands had been added to the French crown only a few years before – did not like the sound of the rhetoric coming out of Paris, about one state, one racially and linguistically French state. However, the Lorraine front was relatively unimportant for the war as a whole and was fought almost exclusively with conventional methods. While the defence of the Col de Saverne by Colonel Ney may have been undoubtedly filmish its tactics and weaponry were not revolutionary.

  The French generals in the Flanders theatre were a motley crew of former royal officers and those who had risen to the top under the revolutionary reforms. Some of the latter were exceptional soldiers, while the vast majority were anything but. The most famous of the exceptional soldiers was Pierre Boulanger, who requires no introduction. It was Boulanger who was the first to realise the value of the revolutionary weapons already within the army’s arsenal, and to halt Mozart’s slow and steady advance through northern France.

  Most French generals were sceptical of the Cugnot steam tractors (fardiers) that their artillery had been equipped with, back at the tail end of the royalist era. Many simply used them as they would horses, while complaining that finding coal was much more difficult than allowing horses to forage. Boulanger quickly saw, however, that when operated by well-trained crews, the fardiers could be started and stopped more rapidly than horses could be unlimbered and hitched up again to field pieces. The fardiers could also typically tow pieces that would have required a full team of horses, although they needed time to build up a sufficient head of steam. Finally, the fardiers were eerily almost silent, save for the occasional whistle of escaping steam. Boulanger used all of these factors to his advantage at the decisive Battle of Lille (actually taking place some distance from the city).

  Boulanger, along with other French generals, swiftly saw that the best thing to do with a large number of nervous but willing recruits was to make them attack in column. This exploited the fact that few needed to have good performance with a musket, as only those around the outside could actually fire, and the compact mass of men meant that none could flee in the heat of battle. Furthermore, it lent courage to them. It was not the attack of the column itself, but the psychological power of the vast mass of men heading towards the thin enemy lines, that lent the formation its usefulness. Furthermore, after a column had driven back the enemy a few times, its men had gained sufficiently in courage and morale that they could be trusted to deploy in line.

  A column could be smashed easily enough by either enemy artillery or sufficiently well-trained and disciplined troops fighting in line. After a few reverses, Mozart was able to use these tactics to destroy most of a French army at Laon. Those Sans-Culottes who survived the artillery bombardment decided to stage their own little revolution, execute their own general, elect a new one from among themselves, and flee. This story has been repeatedly told and exaggerated over the years, notably after being lampooned in several Gillray caricatures.

  Boulanger finally met Mozart’s main force at Lille on November 4th, 1795, near the end of the campaigning season. So far, things had gone badly for the French. An attempted attack on the Dutch-manned forts on the Flemish border had been repulsed, and the Austrians had managed to win three of Mozart’s desired decisive battles, Laon being the crowning glory. Another part of Mozart’s army was besieging nearby Maubeuge, demonstrating that its Vauban-era fortifications were now somewhat outdated, and unless Boulanger won this battle, the town would be forced to surrender.

  Understanding the danger of a French relief of Maubeuge, Mozart took the greater part of his army to meet Boulanger’s some way east of Maubeuge, along the course of the Sambre and closer to Lille (hence the name of the battle). The Austrian army, which was in fact slightly numerically inferior to the French force, but had a larger percentage of veterans, encamped in a strong position and blocked Boulanger’s route, forcing him to make the attack.

  Boulanger rapidly concocted a plan based on the fact that the battlefield was typically Low-Countries flat, and the Sambre was forded a short distance behind the Austrian lines. Guns placed on the far bank would be able to keep up a withering enfilading fire on the Austrian lines, and if the ford were defended by a force of veterans, it would be very difficult for the Austrians to attack the guns. The problem was that the ford was of course behind the enemy lines. But Boulanger had a way around that…

  Both armies encamped for the night, and as was common had sentries out. Attacks at night were not unknown. But before the sun dipped below the horizon, Boulanger’s exploring officers told him that there was a small gap in the Austrian lines. There was no way that a regular artillery team could be sneaked through there, even under cover of darkness – but a fardier team, as quiet as the grave…?

  The plan was audaciously risky in retrospect, and we can only wonder whether the then notoriously unreliable Cugnot fardiers à vapeur let off whistles of escaping steam. We can only conclude that the Austrian sentries had no notion what these sounds were, never having heard them before on a battlefield, and must have considered them to be the call of a strange bird or somesuch. Nonetheless, by dawn the French guns were assembled on the far bank, the veterans were arrayed on the ford, and the main force of Boulanger’s army attacked in column. Mozart arrayed his own troops in line to meet them, but then Boulanger played his trump card: unlike most Revolutionary French generals at the time, he had successfully scraped together a cavalry force. While his cavalry was undeniably inferior to the Austrians’, it fulfilled its requirement: the Austrian troops, seeing French cavalry about to attack, formed square. The dense formation made them invulnerable to cavalry attack, but sitting ducks for artillery bombardment. Which now commenced.

  The battle lasted perhaps three hours, with Mozart soon realising the source of the round shot murdering his men, and making two unsuccessful attempts to break the French veterans on the ford before giving up. The Austrian troops milled desperately between a line formation to escape the artillery and a square to defend against the French cavalry, with the result that all discipline was lost. Rather than see his army slaughtered, Mozart ordered a withdrawal, with his own cavalry covering the retreat and preventing the French cavalry from attacking. He lost perhaps a fifth of his troops, but knew that the real loss was far worse. The French
could relieve Maubeuge, and more importantly they had a legend: a legend of victory.

  And Joseph Cugnot himself, who had found himself locked up by the Revolutionaries along with most other scientists and engineers known to have worked for the ancien régime, was suddenly released and ordered to work with a much larger budget…

  Chapter 25: The Baltic Crisis

  “Our victory is ultimately assured: though the nationalistically blinded powers may form temporary alliances and coalitions against us, history teaches us that all we have to do is survive, and they will eventually turn on and destroy each other for us.”

  – EnRiq Salvador Lopez, speech to the Global Assembly, 1957

  *

  From: “A History of Scandinavia” by Adolf Ohlmarks (1984)—

  The revival of Danish power in the late 18th century is a topic much debated among historians, both of the Baltic and elsewhere; but some elementary conclusions may be drawn here.