Chapter 3

The French Offensive

‘Executed with bravery and resolution.’1

Louis XIV had the marked advantage in the early stages of the war of holding a central position with a large and well-equipped army ready to deploy as he saw fit. His allies in Bavaria and Savoy would welcome French troops, and threaten the security of Vienna and the more minor princes of the empire, thus unsettling the foundations of the Grand Alliance, while the French alliance with Portugal secured the otherwise exposed Atlantic seaboard of Spain. With elaborate formal lines of defence in the north-east, recently constructed with much labour and expense under the supervision of Vauban, and forbidding mountain ranges and difficult country along the east and south-eastern borders, French territory was under little threat for the time being. Equally, with the king’s grandson on the throne in Madrid there was little likelihood of an attack from the south, even though Spanish military strength was comparatively feeble, and Philip V would need the deployment of large numbers of French troops before long if he was to secure his throne.² The king, by comparison with his opponents, could choose to strike in any one of several directions, depending upon which course seemed most promising.

The river Rhine provided a convenient barrier both for France, and also co-incidentally for the German princes and electors who supported the Grand Alliance. This line was held for much of its upper stretches by imperial troops commanded by Louis Guillaume, the Margrave of Baden, an astute commander somewhat of the old school, who had gained a fine reputation while fighting the Ottoman armies in eastern Europe. Extensive formal lines of defence were constructed at Stollhofen ten miles or so downstream from Strasbourg, neatly barring any attempt French commanders might make to force a passage between the river and the tangled tracks of the Black Forest. Baden had insufficient strength, however, to do more than adopt a defensive posture and this enabled large numbers of French troops to be deployed elsewhere, a relatively small force under the command of Marshal Catinat being left in place to keep an eye on the margrave.

After having been replaced in command in northern Italy by Villeroi, and having to watch without the power to alter things the defeat at Chiari, Catinat had returned to Versailles and to his house in St Denis, and had been without employment or command for some time. Offered command of the French army on the Rhine he was reluctant at first to accept, feeling that there had been a loss of faith in his abilities which led to his replacement in Italy. On 11 March he was taken into private conversation by Louis XIV; they discussed the events of the recent campaign, and the scheming that had taken place between the Prince of Vaudemont and Michel de Chamillart (the French Minister for War who succeeded Barbezieux when he died), to remove him from the command and install Villeroi in his place. At length, Catinat was assured of the trust that was placed in him by the king, and he went to the Rhine, but his heart was plainly not in the appointment, and St Simon wrote that: ‘He took the command he had been called to, but did not remain long in it … he soon resigned his command, finding himself too much obstructed to do anything, and retired.’3

Even with the fighting already taking place in northern Italy, and the keen importance attached to affairs there by both Versailles and Madrid, there was little likelihood of an early and decisive decision. The most promising target for a major French attack was Holland, whose border was exposed now that the Spanish Netherlands were firmly in the hands of Louis XIV’s troops. The States-General had naturally been disconcerted at the recent death of William III, Queen Anne being as yet a largely unknown quantity to them, despite her declarations of firm intent to proceed against France. Memories were long, and many in Holland remembered very well the French invasion of the 1670s when only a desperate flooding of their land had saved them from domination by Louis XIV. A damaging attack on southern Holland would, as a result, readily dislocate the Grand Alliance and leave the king and his grandson the victors in the war for Spain. The veteran Marshal Boufflers, a steady pair of hands, was sent north with a 60,000-strong army to accomplish this task.

In northern Italy Marshal Villeroi still faced the army commanded by Prince Eugene, whose successes so far meant that for the time being the initiative lay with him. However, the imperial commander was short of supplies, munitions and money, and Pope Clement XI having declared support for the Bourbon cause in the war, local merchants and dealers had a firm reason to refuse to provide provisions under anything less than duress. Eugene could not afford to delay while his army withered away, and formed a plan to seize the fortified city of Cremona on the river Po, in the centre of the French position; having done so he would try to go on and take Milan. On 1 February 1702, the prince managed to infiltrate a body of troops into Cremona using a disused and presumably overlooked aqueduct that led through the walls, and simultaneously a storming party attacked the main gate. The guards, suddenly beset on two sides, were overwhelmed, and when the halfdressed Marshal Villeroi galloped to the scene with just a single aide at his side, he was accosted and taken prisoner by Captain MacDonnel, an Irish officer in the imperial service, The initial success for Eugene’s troops could not be sustained, however, and the French quickly counter-attacked with great spirit, breaking down a bridge by which imperial reinforcements might have reached the walls:

Prince Eugene … finding that his troops were giving way, ascended the cathedral steeple to see what was passing in different parts of the town … he saw his detachments on the banks of the Po, and the bridge broken, thus rendering their assistance useless.4

After ten hours of fierce close-quarters fighting in the streets of Cremona, and with ammunition almost exhausted, the prince had no alternative but to order his men to withdraw. They took with them some hundreds of prisoners amongst whom, of course, was the unfortunate Marshal of France.⁵ As a result, Louis-Joseph de Bourbon, the astute Duc de Vendôme, was sent to replace Villeroi as commander in the Po valley, and he soon proved to be a much tougher opponent for Eugene to deal with.

At sea, the French appeared to have a marked advantage over their British and Dutch opponents. In the Mediterranean, the route through which the Smyrna convoys brought their exotic and highly desirable cargoes from the Levant, the ports of Spain and Italy were open to Louis XIV’s ships but now closed to those of the Maritime Powers. Meanwhile, the Indies were also open only to French and Spanish traders, with an embargo enforced by a powerful French cruising squadron. British outposts in the Caribbean, the valuable sugar and spice islands of Jamaica, Antigua, Barbados and the Bahamas, were at risk of attack, unless something was attempted to support them. That something proved to be Admiral John Benbow, who had been sent to the Indies in 1701 by William III with a small but well-equipped force to maintain a presence in Jamaica, and keep an eye on French activities. In June 1702 news came of the outbreak of war two months and more earlier, and Benbow also learned that the French naval commander, the Marquis de Châteaurenault, had made for Vera Cruz on the coast of Mexico to cover the departure of the immensely valuable Spanish annual treasure fleet.

In mid-July the treasure fleet sailed for Europe covered by Châteaurenault’s thirty warships, a force that Benbow could not hope to challenge. He could, however, move to attack the small French squadron left behind to cover Cartagena and the result was an inconclusive running battle between the local French commander, Admiral Jean Ducasse, and Benbow’s English squadron. On 4 September 1702, Benbow at last brought Ducasse to a general action off Cape Santa Marta, but in a scrambled but fierce engagement the admiral was gravely wounded by a French chain-shot on his own quarterdeck of HMS Breda, and had to be strapped to a chair to continue to command. As it was, some of his captains were reluctant to continue with the fighting and in consequence, the French escaped a serious mauling; Benbow returned with his squadron to Jamaica, where he subsequently died from his injuries. ‘His leg never having set to perfection, which malady being aggravated by the discontent of his mind, threw him into a sort of melancholy which ended his life.’6 Two of Benbow’s captains, Kirby and Wade, who had been so reluctant to engage the French ships were properly court-martialled and faced a firing squad for their craven behaviour, Queen Anne refusing them a pardon. Ducasse had already written to Benbow, lamenting that he had not succeeded in taking the Breda, and adding in disgust at the miserable conduct of his opponent’s subordinates, ‘As for your cowardly Captains, hang them, for, by Heaven, they deserve it’.⁷

If the Maritime Powers were to re-establish a meaningful presence in the Mediterranean, then Cadiz in south-western Spain had first to be neutralised as a base from which the French and Spanish squadrons could sally forth to intercept any passage of the Straits of Gibraltar. The port might also prove to be a useful forward base for the allied navies. The very capable Prince George of Hesse-Darmstadt, who had been replaced as viceroy of Catalonia when Philip V took the throne, and Austrian influence in Madrid faded accordingly, had put this proposal to King William III before his fatal riding accident. Port Mahon in Minorca, or Cartagena and Barcelona on the Valencian and Catalan coast, would serve equally well as a base from which the allied warships could operate, but no movement towards Naples and promising opportunities to operate against Spanish territories in southern Italy was possible until the unhampered passage of the straits could be assured. Cadiz, moreover, was the principal base for the Spanish navy, and the most convenient port from which the valuable trade with the Americas could be conducted and protected. To seize the port, therefore, would pay handsome dividends for the Grand Alliance on several scores, damaging Spanish commerce and finances, exerting pressure on Portugal and Savoy, and paving the way to securing regular passage to and from the Mediterranean. There was also the added attraction that French effort to prevent the seizure of the port would be harder than any operations against Barcelona or Port Mahon, both of which lay much closer to the great naval base at Toulon in southern France. In trying to protect Cadiz, the French fleet might be tempted to venture out a very long way, and be vulnerable to interception and attack.

Philip V had briefly visited his domains in Naples, and succeeded in persuading the Pope to support his claim to the Spanish throne; the emperor was anxious that an increased allied effort be made there before things went too far. Possession of Naples and the ability to campaign in southern Italy were not the only considerations, for advances had been made to King Pedro II of Portugal to forsake his alliance with France and Spain, and to join the Grand Alliance. With Cadiz firmly in allied hands, the choice for Portugal to change sides might be made so much easier, and Prince George went to Lisbon early in July 1702 to open negotiations to achieve that end. The newly-arrived English ambassador, John Methuen, who was familiar with Lisbon and the Portuguese court, received a warm welcome and was soon active in persuasion also, but the king was cautious, as to break with France plainly carried risks, and he needed re-assurance that the Grand Alliance had the power and the will to win the war.

The decision to attack Cadiz was taken shortly before William III’s death, and much of the planning had been carried out by Prince George. The Earl of Marlborough wrote from The Hague to his friend Sidney Godolphin in early April, and he plainly saw the advantages in pursuing an aggressive and wide-ranging naval strategy:

I do not doubt that the Dutch will come to the project of Calais and when we are masters of it, I believe they will be of the opinion that part of the fleet may go with six or seven thousand men as high as Naples. The time this squadron is in the Straits [of Gibraltar], the rest of the men must be employed in fortifying Cadiz. A further thought here is that before the fleet shall return home they should seize upon Corunna, and leave a garrison there.8

Using their naval superiority, which time and circumstances would improve, the Maritime Powers were to open a promising new front against France and Philip V. Not only would valuable ports be obtained for use as bases in future operations, but Spanish and French trade would be hindered and their prestige impaired. Also, by moving in force into the Mediterranean, Victor-Amadeus of Savoy would be encouraged to take the allied side, and the Catalan, Valencian and Andalusian coastline threatened and laid open to attack. The French fleet based in Toulon would almost certainly have to intervene, and a major naval action perhaps brought on in the open seas.

That Cadiz was an inviting target for an allied amphibious landing was little more than an open secret, and the emperor in Vienna acknowledged that the place should be seized before a further move was made towards Naples. So it was that the very same month after the immensely valuable treasure fleet had set sail from the Indies, an Anglo-Dutch naval expedition, fifty warships strong with many transports, under the command of 52-year-old Admiral Sir George Rooke and the Dutch Lieutenant-Admiral van Allemond, sailed from the English Channel and on down the coast of Portugal. The fleet made an ostentatious and impressive display but did not linger in harbour at the mouth of the Tagus; King Pedro was suitably impressed though. The transports carried almost 14,000 troops to form a landing force commanded by James, 2nd Duke of Ormonde, when the opportune moment came.9 Rooke was joined on his flagship by Prince George and Paul Methuen, son of the ambassador to Lisbon, brought out to the passing fleet on a frigate on 21 July. The wide-ranging instructions to the admirals were to ‘reduce and take the town and island of Cadiz, or any other place belonging to Spain or France’, although if a French naval squadron rumoured to be at Corunna was encountered, that was to be the main target of the expedition.¹⁰ Rooke knew the approaches and environs of Cadiz well, and the defences of the town and port were thought to be poorly equipped. Not finding the French squadron en route, the allied fleet anchored off the town on 23 August 1702. Several days were then wasted in discussion between the senior officers as to how best to proceed – some favoured an amphibious landing on the isthmus to the south of Cadiz, while others felt that a blockade and bombardment of the port was the better course. At last a landing was agreed upon the Bay of Bulls to the north of the harbour between the town of Rota and Santa Caterina – further from Cadiz than was ideal but offering a better anchorage for the fleet.

In a freshening wind which upset some of the boats, tipping the soldiers into the surf, with some men being drowned and others being saved by the oarsmen, the allied landing in the bay to the north of Cadiz was made on 26 August. There was little real opposition other than from some scattered and ineffective fire from a nearby battery, and a demonstration by a small detachment of Spanish cavalry, commanded by Don Felix Vallero. He did not, however, close in to come to grips, merely exchanging some shots with the first allied soldiers on the beach. The small town of Rota was occupied the next day without trouble, providing a useful wharf for the landing of men and materiel. A proclamation was read out asserting the rights of Archduke Charles over the question of the Spanish throne, and the imperial standard was raised by Prince George; disappointingly, the reaction of the locals was rather subdued if not actually hostile.

The landing of the bulk of the men, guns, horses and equipment took just two days, a creditable achievement, but a further week went by before the force felt able to advance on Cadiz. Discipline amongst the troops was good, and as it was necessary to persuade locals to come over to the Habsburg cause, looting was forbidden; after the first soldier was hanged for this offence, four more would have paid the penalty had not the local people petitioned for them to be pardoned as little harm had actually been done. The fort at Santa Caterina was soon occupied, after brief fighting, and Port St Mary was taken along with 200 Spanish prisoners. Unfortunately, some thirsty allied soldiers then found stocks of wine in the all-but-deserted town and disorder set in. Looting of warehouses and homes quickly became widespread, and those inhabitants who had not already fled were threatened with violence. The officers appeared to have little appetite for imposing order on their belligerently drunken men, while a Captain Norris was subsequently court-martialled for striking a fellow officer in a heated argument in the street over some purloined claret.

The immediate effect of this disorder was to fatally shock and outrage local Spanish opinion against the allies and the Habsburg cause, and henceforth the region would be firmly inclined in favour of King Philip V. Admiral Rooke was well aware of the damage done, both physical and moral, and ruefully reported that ‘the inhumane plundering of Port St Mary made a great noise here’.11 The Cadiz operation never recovered its former vigour, and orders were received from London to carry out a strict enquiry into the outrages inflicted on the small town. Rooke was also concerned at the prolonged anchoring of his ships off a lee shore, while the soldiers on land suffered in the hot weather with a lack of drinking water – the local wine-shops and cellars now being kept under strict guard. The terrain to be crossed by the troops was marshy with many creeks to be forded or bridged, and the advance on Cadiz slowed to a crawl in consequence. The Spanish fort at Santa Cruz was attacked, but with no success, as the governor of Cadiz, the Duc de Brancacio, had disposed his troops well to cover all likely approaches.

The fort at Santa Catalina was occupied on 2 September, and two days later Rooke agreed to force a passage into Cadiz harbour and attack the eight French galleys at anchor there. Brancacio had, however, already sunk three merchant ships across the entrance between Fort Matagorda and Fort Santa Lawrencio, and the attempt had to be abandoned. The Matagorda was bombarded, but the allied guns sank into the marshy surface on which they had been emplaced, and that effort also had to be called off after three days of ineffective firing. Parties of sailors and marines were working on shore, preparing roadways and platforms for the guns, but the ships were under-manned as a result, and Rooke recalled that ‘such slavish labour was not for seamen’.12 The disorder and plundering that had occurred had soured the whole enterprise, and there was no sign that the Spanish populace, nobility or commoners, would rise to support the Habsburg cause. Prince George wrote in exasperation at the fumbling of the operations, and a seeming lack of purpose amongst the commanders on land and sea, and a growing inclination to call off the whole enterprise. ‘The methods which have been taken hitherto, seem not directed to do anything but to find some pretence, after some unanswerable delays, to go with the first fair wind for England.’¹³

Sure enough, on 26 September it was decided to abandon the expedition and re-embark the troops. A final parting bombardment of Cadiz was considered, but this would have been no more than an act of vindictive frustration, and mercifully it was not carried out. Enough damage had been done, however, amongst the unfortunate local villagers to seriously damage the prospects for a successful allied campaign in much of southern Spain:

The cause of Charles III became associated in the Spaniards’ minds with the scandalous conduct of Ormonde’s troops, who plundered Santa Maria to the bare walls, sacked the churches with heretical glee, raped women, and even nuns.¹⁴

The officers, it was said ‘even went so far, in their deplorable mean-ness of soul, as to place guards in the street to take the spoil from the privates and store it all away for their superiors’. By 28 September the main body of the allied troops had re-embarked, with some sharp rearguard fighting by the English Foot Guards to hold off an advance by Spanish troops to try and disrupt the evacuation. The next day the fleet weighed anchor and sailed away, Prince George and Paul Methuen returned to Lisbon, while the crowded ships made their way northwards.

This dismal failure at Cadiz and its environs, and resulting disappointment, was tempered by the news that the Spanish treasure fleet had arrived off the coast of Galicia, evading the attentions of an intercepting naval squadron under Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell, and had put in to take shelter in Vigo Bay. News of their arrival was given incautiously in idle conversation in Lagos on the Algarve coast to the chaplain of HMS Pembroke, whose captain hurried on to meet Rooke and his squadron with the exciting tidings. The chance to snap up such a vast prize could not be denied, and on 22 October Rooke, having as instructed detached a small squadron for service in the west Indies, successfully entered Vigo Bay on a northerly wind. The treasure fleet consisted of seventeen laden merchantmen, with their escort of fifteen French and three Spanish warships under the command of the Marquis de Châteaurenault, all neatly protected by a stout boom laid across the estuary at its narrowest point at Redondella. Rooke was unwell with gout, and kept to his cabin, but his squadron broke through the boom with HMS Torbay, commanded by Vice-Admiral Hobson, in the van. Ormonde subsequently landed with a party of marines to rush and capture the Spanish Fort Randa that covered the narrows and could have taken the allied warships under a damaging fire:

He ordered Lord Shannon to put himself at the head of the grenadiers, and march directly to the fort which covered the entrance into the port where the boom was, which was executed with bravery and resolution … Lieutenant-General Churchill’s Regiment, seeing this happy success, marched up to support the grenadiers.15

Six transports partly laden with treasure and goods were captured, while three Spanish ships of the line and eleven other transports were burnt or sunk. The covering French squadron was also destroyed in the engagement, with ten warships sunk and six more captured and taken into allied service.¹⁶

This was a major blow to France and her hopes of ever mounting an effective naval campaign, for time and money to restore such losses were both lacking. The success was not quite as resounding as it appeared, as much of the silver cargo had been landed before Rooke attacked, and being private property and not that of the Crown, seven million silver pesos were subsequently appropriated by Philip V to finance his campaign to hold onto the throne in Madrid. The sequestration of funds was cloaked in the legal fiction that it represented an advance payment of taxes. For Rooke and his crews, of course, there was still a considerable haul to be taken as booty, valued at the fabulous sum of £1 million sterling, together with payment of prize money for their captures in the bay.17

The success at Vigo enabled a gloss of a kind to be thrown over the earlier failure at Cadiz and the disgraceful sacking by allied soldiers of Port St Mary. Those charges that were brought against certain offenders were either dropped on the spurious grounds that they could not be pressed in England when the offences occurred abroad, or diluted to trivial charges of officers being ashore without proper permission. Two senior officers were court-martialled – Lieutenant General Sir Henry Belasys and Major-General Sir Charles O’Hara (a ‘one-time highwayman’ according to one detractor).¹⁸ Belasys was dismissed and then promptly re-instated, while O’Hara was acquitted of the charges and with his reputation apparently unsullied was promoted two years later to become lieutenant-general.

Efforts were still in hand to persuade the Portuguese to join the Grand Alliance, but the evident lack of success at Cadiz did nothing to encourage King Pedro to do so, even though the results of the attack at Vigo were reported in Lisbon first. Rooke had decided not to leave ships in Portuguese ports over the winter, although he could have done so by long-standing treaty terms; again, this did not encourage Pedro to take the risk and switch sides. Methuen’s mission to Portugal had born little fruit so far, although Count Waldstein, the imperial ambassador, and the Dutch minister Meinheer Francis Schonenberg were also active there.¹⁹ Both Methuen and Schonenberg felt at home in Lisbon, but Waldstein was less comfortable, and the competing interest and inherent rivalries, particularly over matters of trade, between England, Holland and Austria made an effective concerted campaign to bring Portugal over to the allied cause more difficult.

In October 1702 Juan Luis Enrique de Cabrera, hereditary Almirante of Castile, having deserted Philip V’s cause, arrived in Lisbon with an impressive retinue, including the Count of Corzona, to add his weight to the arguments. Cabrera had considerable influence not only in Castile, but in Andalusia and Catalonia, and with large estates in Sicily, so his declared support for the Habsburg clamant was very encouraging – a fact not lost on the Portuguese during the protracted negotiations that went fitfully onwards. Cabrera was representative of those grandees of Castile who were still suspicious of the new French-born king in Madrid and what he might do to their treasured privileges; he had been intended to be Philip V’s ambassador to Versailles, largely to keep him out of the way where he could not make mischief. On the road to Paris, however, he took a different turning and went to Lisbon, effectively declaring for Archduke Charles in the process, so his reputation as a rather tricky customer with an inclination to sit on the fence while events unfolded was apparently well merited.20

A powerful argument in favour of Portugal joining the Grand Alliance, however, was that the French and Spanish naval commanders were losing their war with the allies. This was evident and would become more marked as time went on; the portents for Louis XIV and Philip V, after such setbacks as those in the West Indies and at Vigo bay, were already not good. King Pedro had a number of senior advisers who advocated neutrality, but he was rightly concerned for the security of Portugal’s overseas merchantile interests, and England and Holland could devastate these if they chose – Rooke had been able to bring his fleet to the southern shores of Spain, land an army and then re-embark them without interference, while the approaches to the English Channel had been held firm against any French incursion: Louis XIV could never have done so much. Whether Portugal stayed with its alliance with the French king or tried to become a neutral in the war, her merchantmen would be fair game on the high seas. In effect Portugal had few realistic alternatives but to join the cause against Philip V and make the best of it, unless Pedro could negotiate a position of benevolent neutrality. This seemed increasingly unlikely to happen, and a letter sent from Lisbon to London that October set things out with stark clarity

The French have no fleets at sea, and we are in possession of these seas, and these people [the Portuguese] can have no trade but under our protection. Though their trade is certainly beneficial to us, yet ’tis so more to Portugal. All their gold, sugars and tobaccos are the returns of our own manufacturers, which our people give them on credit, to be paid for upon the return of the Brazil trade. Three parts of the corn expended here and all the dried fish is imported by the English, so it is plain these people live by us.²¹

On 4 October 1702, Methuen tried to force the issue, offering territorial concessions to Portugal in Estremadura and Galicia, together with generous cash subsidies and provision of supplies for troops on campaign, in return for active support of the Grand Alliance. The offer was repeated formally on 13 December, although the notion of territorial gains was quietly dropped as being plainly undeliverable, with such exotic alternatives as the Philippines, the Canary Islands and even Buenos Aires mentioned in passing. French efforts to retain the Portuguese alliance fell flat, although King Pedro had astutely used this and the rivalries between the allied ambassadors, who each with good reason suspected the others at various times of double-dealing, to secure the best terms he could. The treaty between Portugal and the Grand Alliance was signed in Lisbon on 16 May 1703, and ratified in London on 14 July. The terms as concluded between Portugal, England. Austria and Holland allowed for Archduke Charles to be declared as King Carlos III and to come to Lisbon to press his claim to the throne in Madrid by force of arms. When he arrived King Pedro was to declare war on Philip V, and provide an army 15,000 strong, with another 13,000 auxiliaries, maintained with allied subsidies and supplies. The allies would provide 12,000 troops to campaign with the Portuguese, together with a cruising squadron of twelve ships sufficient to fend off any threat from French and Spanish warships. The territorial integrity of Portugal was guaranteed by the Maritime Powers, and amendments favourable to Portugal made to the frontiers on the Amazon and La Plata in the Americas. Such concessions, of course, depended upon the Archduke succeeding in his claim and being in position to honour them; typically Emperor Leopold was slow to ratify the treaty, but eventually did so.22