The dynamics of the Grand Alliance had altered considerably with the change of government in London, and, dramatic events in Vienna would change things even more. Defeat for allied forces in Spain, strategically deadly for the Habsburg cause, pointed clearly the way ahead, and the Marquis de Torcy wrote of the news from Brihuega and Villaviciosa. ‘No matter what, never had victory been more complete and this day will change the face of affairs in Spain and at the same time those of Europe.’49 The British minister who, after the successful battle of Saragossa, had delayed negotiations with the French while events took their course in Madrid, wrote that:
We will no longer insist on the entire restoration of the Monarchy of Spain to the House of Austria, or if we do it will be weakly and pro formâ, and we shall be content provided France and Spain will give us good securities for our commerce; and as soon as we have got what we need and have made our bargain with the two crowns, we will tell our Allies.50
‘No peace without Spain’ was plainly no longer the watchword for the allies, and what had been available and on offer in the spring of 1709, but had been rashly turned away, would now serve very well.
Once more a lack of money dogged the allied efforts to re-establish the position in Catalonia, with supplies failing and growing air of indiscipline amongst the unpaid troops. ‘Soldiers are great thieves,’ an observer wrote, ‘and as they don’t have money to pay, they take what they want saying they have a right to do so.’51 Efforts were in hand to restore the situation, however, and on 21 February 1711 John Campbell, 2nd Duke of Argyll, was appointed by Queen Anne to be her commander-in-chief in Spain. The duke was energetic, hard-headed and an astute commander, with considerable influence in London, and although lacking subtlety much was expected from him. In mid-May 8,000 imperial reinforcements were landed from ships under command of Admiral Sir John Norris, but Argyll was still in Italy and found to his dismay that promised funds were not available to supply the needs of the troops. He wrote in exasperation to the Queen: ‘I find neither money nor credit to subsist your army, which is starving for want of pay.’52 Arriving in Catalonia Argyll found that Vendôme was making preparations to advance across the Segre river on Lérida, and then to Tarragona, which was reinforced by British troops early in June. The welcome arrival of drafts of money lifted the immediate difficulties of the allied commanders in subsisting their men, and by the end of the following month, some 18,000 allied troops could be put in the field. The prospects for success in the war in eastern Spain appeared, on the surface at least, to have been unexpectedly turned around, but whether much of lasting value could be achieved remained in doubt.
With the intense heart of summer little serious campaigning had taken place other than skirmishing and patrolling, enabling the opposing commanders to build up the strength of their forces. On 27 September, however, a serious clash took place at El Prats del Rei, where a British detachment drove back the French some way before being recalled for lack of support. The campaign languished, however, for British attention was turning more and more towards retaining their hold on Minorca, and with confidential negotiations in progress for a peace, neither side seemed keen, or were permitted, to push matters too seriously. A Franco-Spanish attempt to take Cardona late in November was turned back by von Starhemberg in some sharp fighting, but Argyll was unwell, and he sailed for Minorca early in 1712 on his way to return to London to recuperate. Major-General Whetham now had command of the remaining British troops in Catalonia, but he had few firm instructions.
The war had spread with a will to the New World early in 1711 when, following a visit to London the previous year by Mohawk chiefs representing the Five Nations kindly disposed to British rule and a subsequent expedition to seize Port Royal in Acadia (Nova Scotia) from the French, a fresh force was prepared to try and attack their settlements in Quebec. Queen Anne wrote to her Governor-General in New York that February that ‘by driving out the French from thence, the several Indian nations will be under Our Subjection, and Our Subjects will enjoy the whole trade of fur and peltry’.53 Strict secrecy about the expedition was for once achieved, with even the British Admiralty not being aware of what was intended for their fleet:
A design of this nature was kept a secret from the Admiralty, who, had they been consulted, would not, I am apt to think, have advised the sending of ships of 80 and 70 guns to Quebec, since the navigation up the river St Lawrence was generally esteemed to be very dangerous.54
Admiral Sir Hovenden Walker was in command of the naval squadron, and Major-General Sir Richard Hill, whose wife Abigail had become a favourite and close confidante of Queen Anne, commanded the troops to be landed. Walker’s ships reached Boston in New England late in June, and had some delay in co-ordinating operations with the colonial militias who had a tendency to please themselves concerning what instructions they would or would not follow.
The expedition eventually set off, but the admiral had not taken the precaution of obtaining pilots with a close knowledge of the navigation of the St Lawrence river, and when a storm blew up eight of the troop-carrying transports were driven onto the rocks and wrecked with heavy loss of life. The morale and resolve of Walker and Hill appeared to sink with the lost ships, and they withdrew from the mouth of the river, and abandoned any attempt to seize Quebec, which was, in fact, held by a very inadequate French garrison. The colonial militia, which were making their way overland from Albany in northern New York, withdrew on learning of the fleet’s failure to land their troops anywhere useful. Any fresh British attempt to gain territory in North America would have to wait for negotiations for peace, and what might be quietly and more comfortably achieved then.
Chapter 12
An End to a Weary Journey
‘I ask forgiveness for the bad example I have set you.’1
The secret negotiations between France and Great Britain to bring an end to the war, facilitated by the efforts of a French priest, Father Gaultier, who was resident in London and took on the role of go-between, progressed to the degree that tentative terms for a treaty for a cessation of hostilities – a sketched-out structure that would lead to a formal treaty – were agreed in April 1711. Louis XIV undertook that his representatives should negotiate on his grandson’s behalf as well as his own. ‘I hope,’ he wrote from Versailles, ‘that you will not regret this confidence in me, and that you will find that I will make good use of the power that you have given me.’2 In brief, the intention was that Philip V would remain on the throne in Madrid, Austria retain its gains in Italy and the Low Countries, Great Britain receive preferential trading rights in the Americas, and the Dutch regain their Barrier Towns. This outline for a peace agreement was then made public, and was met with predictable protests from Vienna and The Hague, with accusations of bad faith and double-dealing on the part of London.
Despite this furore, the whole question of the succession in Spain was settled firmly on 17 April 1711 with the death from smallpox of 34-year-old Emperor Joseph; the bereaved empress was made regent at the head of an interim council of state. Prince Eugene, appointed as a member of the council, wrote to the Duke of Marlborough on 25 April that, nine days earlier: ‘He was believed to be out of danger. That same day, towards evening, the malady increased and he died the next morning at eleven.’3 With an inevitable period of uncertainty that ensued in the empire, preparations for the coming allied campaigns were delayed and imperial troops withdrawn from the Low Countries into Germany to ensure stability. Of much greater significance was the simple fact that Archduke Charles, who might once have been Carlos III of Spain, was likely to be elected as the new emperor in Vienna. This was not a foregone conclusion, as the archduke had never been King of the Romans and therefore the nominated successor should his older brother die. Still, the only other likely candidate with any demonstrably valid claim, the Elector of Bavaria, was a fugitive dependent for the time being upon the charity of Louis XIV, and accordingly could hardly be considered very eligible. In a curious exchange of diplomatic
niceties, Philip V wrote to Archduke Charles in Barcelona with condolences at the death of his brother, but the letter was returned unopened, as the archduke would have been obliged to address any reply to the Duc d’Anjou, rather than to the King of Spain, and needless offence thereby given.
The whole political climate changed completely with this death; the archduke was set to succeed his brother, and to have the new Emperor Charles also crowned as Carlos III would be unsupportable, even assuming that he could be forced upon the Spanish people. The logic behind any continuation of the war was therefore gone. By dint of the military success of commanders such as Eugene and Marlborough, the Spanish Empire was divided with large areas of the Low Countries and Italy now in allied and Austrian hands, while the corresponding lack of success in the peninsula left Philip V secure in Madrid, as the Catalans could not and would not be supported indefinitely in their admirable but hopeless allegiance to the Habsburg claimant. On 27 September 1711 the archduke sailed from Barcelona bound for Vienna, and on 2 October he was duly elected as Emperor Charles VI; although his wife stayed in Catalonia for the time being as a token of good faith; he never returned to Spain.
In the meantime, the Duke of Marlborough had been obliged to open his campaign in northern France, in Eugene’s absence, with a distinct lack of numbers compared to his opponent, Marshal Villars. The French commander had no need to seek a battle in the open, and his army lay secure behind formidable lines of defence stretching from the Channel coast to Mauberge on the river Sambre, the ‘Lines of Non Plus Ultra’. It seemed that only a bloody frontal assault could shift the French from their position, but instead Marlborough fooled Villars into reinforcing his posts around Arras to the westwards, and then struck across the lines at Arleux, ‘having got over their prodigious lines which nobody thought we should have done without a battle’, and going on to lay siege to the French fortress of Bouchain at the junction of the Scheldt and Sensee rivers.4 The garrison put up a spirited defence, and Villars brought his army in close to Bourlon Wood to try and impede the progress of the siege. Despite his greater numbers, the marshal proved unable to lift the allied siege and the commander of the garrison, the Marquis de Ravignan, capitulated on 12 September. ‘The garrison was numerous,’ a Dutch officer wrote, ‘and wanted nothing, it was supported by the French army; and yet in the sight of a hundred thousand fighting men, they were made prisoners of war.’5 An unseemly argument ensued over the terms of the capitulation, but Marlborough was adamant that the marquis and his men were his prisoners of war and not immediately eligible for parole.
Affairs in Spain went forward rather haltingly for much of the year. The exertions of both armies in the closing months of the previous campaign, for all the success that Vendôme had achieved at Brihuega and Villaviciosa, had worn down the capabilities of both sides, and it was only in September 1711 that he advanced in earnest once more. Now reinforced with fresh Austrian troops from Italy and British units from the garrison in Gibraltar, von Starhemberg and Argyll took up a strong defensive position at Pratz del Roy with an army 15,000 strong, in order to cover the approaches to both Tarragona and Barcelona. On 16 September Vendôme with a slightly larger force attempted to manoeuvre them out of the defences, but failing in this he withdrew to Cervera, sending a detachment of 3,000 troops to lay siege to the allied fortress at Cardona. This operation went on rather slowly in the face of a valiant defence by the governor, Count Eck, who prudently withdrew into the citadel once the main walls were breached. On 20 December von Starhemberg sent a relief force which in a two-day battle drove the besieging army away with the loss of all their guns and baggage. The news of the reverse was not well received and Louis XIV urged that no risks be taken. ‘I do not believe it to be apropos for you to seek to fight,’ he wrote to Vendôme, who accordingly withdrew his troops into winter quarters behind the river Segre.6
That same autumn negotiations had reached a kind of resolution between France and Great Britain for a general cessation of hostilities. The ‘Preliminary Articles’ that were agreed in late September for a permanent treaty guaranteed to Great Britain ‘most favoured nation’ status in trading with Spain and the Spanish empire, while both Gibraltar and Minorca were to remain in British hands. Britain also made considerable gains in North America with the fisheries around Newfoundland and the fur trade out of Hudson’s Bay being confirmed as solely British interests. An additional benefit for British trade was that the fortifications and harbour mole at the notorious privateering port at Dunkirk were to be demolished. A subsidiary paper guaranteed the Protestant succession to the throne in London, the separation for all time of the thrones of France and Spain, the restoration of the Dutch Barrier in the southern Netherlands, and the territorial gains made for Austria in Italy and the Low Countries. It was, however, clear that France and Great Britain had arranged terms to best suit themselves, while the Dutch had ‘to jostle with the Austrians for such broken meats as they would find under the conference table’.7 Too much was left vague and subject to further manoeuvring for those in The Hague, Vienna and Turin to be satisfied, but those in London and Versailles, and to a degree in Madrid, had got what was sought.
While these discussions, whether conducted in good faith or bad, proceeded at a stately pace, with the Duke of Marlborough was out of favour in London and excluded from the negotiations. He was suddenly relieved of all his posts by Queen Anne on 31 December 1711. ‘I am very sensible of the honour your Majesty does me,’ the Duke wrote bitterly, ‘in dismissing me from your service by a letter of your own hand.’8 With matters all but settled between France and Great Britain, Marlborough with his brilliant talents was now an inconvenience, and was put out of the way. Louis XIV learned the news of the dismissal with satisfaction: ‘The affair of displacing the Duke of Marlborough will do all for us we desire.’9
A congress was convened at Utrecht to formalise the discussions that had taken place to achieve peace. The affair was largely managed by the Marquis de Torcy for France and Robert Harley, the Earl of Oxford, for Great Britain, and the most pressing issue remained that of guaranteeing the separation of the two crowns of France and Spain. This had become urgent due to the ravages of an epidemic of measles in the French court, which had carried off the heir to the throne the Duc de Bourgogne (his father, the Dauphin, having died of smallpox the previous year), and also his elder son. The younger son, Louis, still an infant in arms, thanks to the tender ministrations of his formidable nurse who barred the nursery door to keep the well-intentioned but incompetent royal doctors away, survived to succeed his greatgrandfather a couple of years later. Had the infant not lived, the spectre of Philip V of Spain being the only legitimate heir of Louis XIV would have arisen, with incalculable consequences. The Earl of Oxford suggested an exchange of Spanish titles and territories between Philip V and Victor-Amadeus of Savoy, should the Frenchman accept the throne, but nothing came of this notion and assurances given by Louis XIV over the separation of the crowns being irrevocable had to be accepted for what they were.
Marlborough’s successor in command of the British troops, James Butler, 2nd Duke of Ormonde, received instructions from London, which were notoriously to become known as the restraining orders, and he was to effectively mark time while the protracted negotiations for peace went on. Ormonde was at first advised to ‘be cautious for sometime of engaging in an action’ but then Secretary of State Henry St John wrote to him on 21 May 1712:
It is therefore the Queen’s positive command to your Grace that you avoid engaging in any siege, or hazarding a battle, till you have further orders from Her Majesty. I am, at the same time, directed to let your Grace know that the Queen would have you disguise the receipt of this order, and her Majesty thinks that you cannot want pretences for conducting yourself so as to answer her ends without owning that which might, at present, have an ill effect if it was publicly known. P.S. I had almost forgot to tell your Grace that communication is given of this order to the Court of France.10
Br
itain’s allies were, in effect to be kept in the dark concerning the determination to conclude an agreement for a peace with France, while being misled as to the day-to-day intentions of the army while on campaign. Versailles, however, was clearly informed of the detail, and diplomatic duplicity was plainly in full play.
The Dutch and Prince Eugene were, however, not to be gulled in this, and were well aware of what was going on in London, even if the precise nature of the restraining orders were, for the moment, not entirely clear to them. When Eugene proposed a march to surprise the French in their encampment, Ormonde cried off, pleading that he needed instructions from London before acting. ‘There are several among them,’ he wrote to London, ‘who do not hesitate to say that they have been betrayed.’11 It was clear also that other supporters of the alliance, with a keen interest in the outcome of the war, were likely to take a robust stance. ‘The Elector of Hanover is strongly opposed to the peace, and will let his troops serve with the Dutch. I am also doubtful whether we can win over the Danes.’12 Ormonde became concerned that the British troops might even be disarmed and interned by their late comrades in arms. Parliament in London, meanwhile were being assured that no such deceit was being attempted on Britain’s allies. ‘Nothing of that nature was ever intended,’ Robert Harley declared with astonishing aplomb. ‘The Allies are acquainted with our proceedings, and satisfied with our terms.’13 Rarely, it appears, have the Members of Parliament in London been lied to quite such a bare-faced fashion.
The War of the Spanish Succession (1701-1714) Page 25
