Marlborough's War Machine, 1702–1711

James Falkner

• Publisher: Pen & Sword Military
• Year: 2020
• Print ISBN: 9781848848214
• eBook ISBN: 9781473842953
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: British History
• Index: History

The author of The War of the Spanish Succession analyzes the inner workings of the army led into battle by General John Churchill.
 
Blenheim, Ramilles, Oudenarde, Malplaquet—much has been written about the brilliant victories of the Duke of Marlborough's Anglo-Dutch army over the armies of Louis XIV of France during the War of the Spanish Succession. Less attention has been focused on the men and the military organization that made these achievements possible—the soldiers, the commanders, the army structure and administration, the logistics, engineering, weapons and finance. That is why James Falkner's penetrating account of the composition and operation of Marlborough's army is of such value. His clear analysis gives a fascinating insight into Marlborough's war machine and into the conduct of war in Europe 300 years ago.
 
"I thoroughly enjoyed this book and would recommend it, particularly if you are embarking on a visit to the battlefields of the War of the Spanish Succession."—Army Rumour Service
 
"This perceptively written book tells us about the war machine that backed up Marlborough's strategic and tactical genius . . . An excellent book."—Classic Arms and Militaria
 
"The author, having written a number of books on the period, knows his subject and this certainly shows in this, his latest contribution to the history of the British army in the early 18th century."—Military Modelling Magazine

Chapter 1

The War for Spain

By the close of the seventeenth century, it had become clear that, despite the administering of strange, fanciful and exotic potions, together with earnest prayers and incantations, the sickly Habsburg King Carlos II of Spain would never father children. He had no surviving brothers, sisters or close cousins to succeed him when he died, and so the vexed question across much of western Europe became, who would take the throne in Madrid once Carlos was gone and in his grave? The mid-sixteenth-century division of the great empire of Charles V into Spanish and Austrian portions had left two potential claimants, each arguably with as good a cause in their favour as the other. Without some sure-footed diplomacy and judicious calculation, the scope for mischief, misunderstanding, danger and even ruinous war was immense.

The question of who would succeed Carlos was one of prime importance for, although Spain was no longer the political and military power that it had once been, the empire ruled from Madrid encompassed much of the Iberian Peninsula (Portugal, while fiercely independent, being very much in the Spanish sphere of influence), the Balearic Islands and Sardinia in the Mediterranean, the wealthy Southern Netherlands, enclaves on the Barbary shore of the north coast of Africa, much of Sicily, Naples and northern Italy, wide stretches of the rich lands in the Americas, and even the Philippines, exotic and far off as they were. If the potential claimant from the House of Bourbon took the throne, then the power and influence of France would be enhanced to a degree that England and Holland could not countenance. The aggressive wars which King Louis XIV of France had waged against his near neighbours in the second half of the century made such a potential increase in French power, harnessed to the wealth of the Spanish Empire, a matter of great concern – concern that would prove to be worth going to war for.

If, on the other hand, the Habsburg claimant in Vienna should succeed to the throne in Madrid, then the power of Imperial Austria – although increasingly diverted by internal divisions and rebellion and the Ottoman threat from the east – would set out the possibility of the encirclement of France once again, a throwback to the old times of Charles V. Habsburg armies would perhaps gather to surround and threaten France from Spain and northern Italy, and from the Low Countries (the largely Catholic southern portion, now known as Belgium, that had not gained independence from Madrid in the early part of the seventeenth century). Also exposed, from France’s point of view, would be the lengthy course of the river Rhine, where the increasingly assertive German princes, technically owing allegiance to the Holy Roman Empire (an institution neither holy, Roman, or an empire, as it has been wittily described), could manoeuvre to imperil the recently established, and yet to be properly strengthened, eastern border of France. That the attention of Vienna would be permanently diverted to the south and east by unrest in Hungary and, more perilous perhaps, the growth of Ottoman aggression, was not yet recognized, and so the potential danger to France of renewed Habsburg encirclement, although in reality a shadowy myth, was not seen as such in Fontainebleau and Versailles.

The dilemma for all concerned was real enough; Carlos II was fading fast. A neat solution was found, with King Louis XIV of France and Emperor Leopold I of Austria agreeing that an acceptable choice, one that should avoid conflict between the two, would be for Joseph-Ferdinand, the young son of the Elector of Bavaria, to succeed to the Spanish throne once it became vacant. His mother, the now-deceased first wife of the elector, was the daughter of the emperor in Vienna, and so the young man had as good a claim as could be desired. Although little attention seems to have been paid to the wishes of the Spanish nobility and people over the matter, this was a sensible and pragmatic solution to a difficult problem. In the meantime, the most recent of the wars fought by France against its near neighbours, the Nine Years War (also known as the War of the League of Augsburg), had come to a gradual and weary end in 1697 with the Treaty of Ryswick. This agreement contained solemn undertakings on many counts, including providing the United Provinces of Holland with a secure barrier of fortress towns across the Southern Netherlands to deter any future French aggression, and an acknowledgement of William III as the rightful King of England and Scotland. This important provision entailed the abandonment by France of support for a Stuart restoration on behalf of the exiled King James II, who would, however, remain with his wife and young son as honoured guests of the French monarch at St Germain.

Unfortunately and inconveniently, Prince Joseph-Ferdinand of Bavaria died suddenly of smallpox in June 1699, and the careful arrangement reached by France and Austria to dispose safely of the soon to be vacant Spanish throne came to nothing. No fresh agreement could be reached, although France and England entered an amendment to the Treaty of Ryswick such that, when Carlos II died, Archduke Charles of Austria, Emperor Leopold I’s youngest son, should succeed to the Spanish throne, in return for territorial concessions to France by way of recompense. Early in November 1700 Carlos II, who had never enjoyed good health as a consequence of Habsburg inbreeding, at last lay on his death-bed. In the late king’s will, which had been amended shortly before his death, the throne of Spain was offered to Louis XIV’s young second grandson Philippe, Duc d’Anjou, who would as a result, become Philip (Felipe) V of Spain. The news of this glittering offer reached the French court at Fontainebleau on 8 November, and Louis XIV was faced with a difficult decision. If the offer was accepted, solemn treaty obligations were to be disregarded and fears of a massive increase in French power and influence would cause alarm through the rest of western Europe. Reassurances could be offered, but renewed war might well result, and the French Treasury was sorely depleted from the years of conflict which had marked the final decade of the previous century. However, if the throne was refused by the French prince, then the same offer would immediately be made to Austrian Archduke Charles, and the old sensitivity to Habsburg encroachment and encirclement of France would reawaken.

In this dilemma, the stakes were incredibly high, and so too were the risks. Louis XIV was certainly well aware of this, but his own son, the Grand Dauphin, urged that the Duc d’Anjou be permitted to accept the offered throne. The king was persuaded, and the Duc de St Simon remembered that, on 16 November 1700:

The King, contrary to all custom, opened the two folding doors of his cabinet [private chambers], and commanded everyone to enter. It was a very full Court that day. The King, majestically turning his eyes towards the numerous company, and showing them M. Le Duc d’Anjou, said ‘Gentlemen, behold, this is the King of Spain . . . be a good Spaniard, that is your first duty, but remember that you are a Frenchman born.’¹

The French king quickly took steps to assure William III of England and the States-General of Holland that their own interests would not be put at risk by this acceptance of the Spanish throne. Camille d’Hostun, Comte de Tallard, the able French ambassador to London, worked assiduously to assure William of the good intentions of the French, and it was explicitly set out that the crowns of France and Spain should always be kept separate, although how this would be enforced in practice remained shrouded in some uncertainty. Concessions were also offered to Emperor Leopold I in Vienna, to allay any concerns or outrage from that quarter, and for a time it seemed that such assurances would be sufficient, and renewed conflict could be averted with some continued neat diplomatic footwork. Surprisingly, Louis XIV, normally so precise in these matters, now fumbled the scene, and in February 1701 French troops were sent to take possession of a number of important towns in the Spanish Netherlands. To the French king this seemed no less than simple logic – the wealthy region was a part of his grandson’s domains and needed to be properly secured with good French garrisons, not left in the hands of the Dutch. However, this move inevitably caused outrage in Holland, as those same towns provided the valuable and much-cherished barrier established at the Treaty of Ryswick which the Dutch relied upon to protect them from fresh French aggression. Louis XIV, it seemed, was behaving just the same way as before.

On a pragmatic level, William III was aware that the barrier towns were no more than a trip-wire and could not be sustained against any determined French policy in the region, and he had no intention of going to war to hold on to them. Instructions had already been prepared, but not yet issued, for the garrisons to withdraw to Holland. However, the French were too quick off the mark, and the Dutch garrisons were interned (at all but Maastricht, where the governor, Johan Wigand van Goor, stoutly refused to admit Louis XIV’s men). The States-General had to ask for the return of their troops, which was promptly done, but the whole episode was a distinct humiliation for the proud Dutch; an apparently blunt signal had been given as to what they could expect from the French king in the future.

It seemed clear that steps had to be taken to put a check on renewed French expansion and possible aggression, and in the autumn of 1701 a Treaty of Grand Alliance was agreed between Holland, Austria and England to limit the power of France and, principally, to achieve on broadly equitable terms a division of the Spanish Empire. Neither France nor Austria should gain too great an advantage and put the interests of other nations at risk through the accession of a foreign prince to the throne in Madrid. A key aim, rather more closely linked to the financial well-being of the maritime powers, but not to Austria, was to obtain more favourable trading terms for England and Holland in the Spanish territories in the Americas. There was no explicit requirement, at the time, that the Austrian Archduke Charles should have the Spanish throne as had been, perhaps optimistically, intended once young Joseph-Ferdinand died, but that demand, flawed and fatal, would come soon enough. Although William III negotiated the terms of the alliance with the Dutch, to whom he was obviously very well known (although often absent), John Churchill, now the Earl of Marlborough, played an active part in the discussions, and on 7 September 1701 he signed the treaty on behalf of the king.² Louis XIV was very soon apprised of the exact details by the Swedish ambassador to Versailles.

Louis XIV, having outraged the Dutch with his unwise, and probably unnecessary, occupation of the barrier towns in the Spanish Netherlands, made matters even worse a week after the Treaty of Grand Alliance was concluded. He went to St Germain and acknowledged to his dying friend, the exiled King James II, that his own young son, James (known to the French as the Chevalier de St George), was regarded by France as the true successor to the English throne, to be restored as King James III. This was an unguarded comment and contrary to the advice of the king’s council, but was yet another infringement of the Treaty of Ryswick. Although it was generally understood that the French king had spoken incautiously and in the emotion of the moment, great offence was taken by some in London, where it seemed clear that once more solemn treaty obligations – and perhaps more tellingly an understood but unwritten agreement that France would not interfere with the orderly succession to the English crown – were of little account to Louis XIV. Tempers flared, firm action was resolved on and additional war supplies were promptly voted by Parliament. However, William III, staunch opponent of the French king and his ambitions, did not live to fight another war; he died on 8 March 1702, a fortnight or so after falling from his favourite horse, Sorrel, and breaking his collar bone.

Princess Anne, youngest daughter of James II, succeeded her Dutch brother-in-law to the throne in London (the crowns of England and Scotland still being separate until the Act of Union in 1707). The Earl of Marlborough, the new queen’s close friend, was sent to Holland to affirm to the Dutch that she was resolute in support of the Grand Alliance and the overall aim to limit surging French power. Reassurances also went to the many smaller German princes and electors whose support in the effort against France would be of such value in the years to come. The queen wrote on 17 March 1702, with timely reassurances and a reminder of the growing peril, to the Electors of the Circle of the Upper Rhine. After lamenting the sudden death of William III:

We now devote ourselves, the more especially, that We may imitate so excellent an example, and so far as is possible, may carry on most accurately his great designs for promoting the Public Good, and chiefly in that watchful vigilance by which he had a care for the Holy Roman Empire and especially the well-being of the illustrious Circles adjacent to the River Rhine . . . Doubtless, very well known to your Highness and Your Highness Elect is the ancient and insatiable desire of the French King to dominate; notorious are the wrongs, the cunning and the fraud by which he is scheming to aggrandize the limits of his Empire until satiated . . . With the power of France increased by Spain, he will at length attain the summit of his power; so that in a short time he will easily subdue the rest of Europe to his domination.

The Queen was, understandably, overstating things a little, as Louis XIV, despite miscalculations and untypical diplomatic clumsiness, certainly wanted to avoid war (and hoped to get his own way in the process), but the concern was real enough, and now she came to the main point:

Therefore in a very friendly manner we ask and invite Your Highness and Your Highness-Elect, according to the 13th Article of the Treaty (of Grand Alliance), to enter the same Alliance, and to add strength and endurance by our accession. By which act, you will be joining with His Imperial Majesty, with the most high estates of the Dutch Allies, who are very jealous of the Public Good, and especially with Ourselves, who have now solely turned Our attentions, and are about to turn all Our energies, to the end that We may vindicate the common liberty of Europe against the immoderate power of the French.³

The various parties to the Grand Alliance proved firm of purpose, and on 15 May 1702 war was simultaneously declared on France and Spain (in the shape of the French claimant, the Duc d’Anjou) in London, The Hague and Vienna. In time, Portugal and the Duchy of Savoy would also, for very different and differing reasons, join the Grand Alliance, and Denmark and many German electorates and principalities – most notably Prussia and Hanover – would also take an active part in the hostilities against Louis XIV and his grandson.⁴

France at this time was the most populous country in western Europe, and Louis XIV had devoted much thought, care and expense to developing his army into an effective fighting instrument, outshining anything else that could be put in the field. French marshals of renown, men such as Turenne, Luxembourg and Condé, had carried out ruthlessly effective campaigns to push the border of the king’s realm out to a comforting degree in the closing decades of the previous century. These great commanders had now gone, age and the perils of the battlefield having winnowed them away, and rather lesser men now led French armies, but in the main they were capable enough, as events would prove. Additionally, France had one notably significant advantage at the opening of the War of the Spanish Succession in 1702 – that of a central position from which the king could choose to strike at his opponents wherever it seemed likely to achieve the best effect. As tensions rose over the question of the throne in Madrid, and the prospect of renewed war became more likely, the French armies had been augmented with newly raised regiments and existing units had been strengthened to war establishment. This work had proceeded at a better rate than in the Grand Alliance, so that in the opening weeks of the war, as the Allies gradually gathered their strength, the French commanders struck in the north. The plain intention was to cripple the Anglo-Dutch army that had the task of guarding the borders of southern Holland. By defeating them, and perhaps invading the republic once more, France would surely force the States-General in The Hague to seek terms and so break apart the Grand Alliance before it could get into its stride. The plan was simple, obvious and, unless something quite unexpected happened, very likely to succeed.

The death of William III had left the States-General in something of disarray, as there was no obvious single natural leader to replace him. Each of the Dutch states had its own competing preferences, ambitions and grudges, and while a number of prominent men might consider themselves suitable – one of whom was Queen Anne’s honest but uninspiring husband, Prince George of Denmark – there was unlikely to be a general agreement on any one person in the short term. John Friso, the nephew of the recently deceased king, who would become the Prince of Orange and prove himself to be a capable field commander in time, was only 14 years old in 1702, and therefore could not be considered. On the other hand, the Earl of Marlborough was appointed to be Captain-General and commander-in-chief of the army to be deployed by England in the Low Countries. Despite his lack of battle experience compared to many of their own veteran generals, the States-General of Holland were prepared to accept him in command when the combined Anglo-Dutch forces were in the field. Adam Cardonnel, Marlborough’s secretary, commented on 1 June 1702 that ‘The States have given directions to all their generals and other officers to obey my Lord Marlborough as their general.’⁵ Simultaneous campaigns would be undertaken in Spain to consolidate the grip of the French prince on the throne, in northern Italy and the Tyrol, and in southern Germany, where the Elector of Bavaria chose to ally himself to Louis XIV and threatened to attack Vienna. It was in the north, though, that the main French blow was initially struck, with veteran Marshal Boufflers leading 60,000 troops in a confident advance against the still-incomplete Anglo-Dutch forces under the rather hesitant command of Godert Rede van Ginkel, the Earl of Athlone, who was soon manoeuvred back against the lower Maas River at Cleves. After a good start and rapid early success, Boufflers’ campaign then began to flag, as his lines of communication and supply were uncomfortably long and an unexpected but fairly minor Dutch offensive in Flanders – intended as much as anything to be a raid to gather forage and supplies – led to French troops being diverted to counter that move. A frustrating pause in Boufflers’ operations, seemingly of little significance but in fact of enormous value to the Allies, then took place.

On 2 June, the earl took over the command of the Allied troops, and the Anglo-Dutch army became Marlborough’s army; this would in time become his war machine. He was Queen Anne’s Captain-General – that was his formal appointment – and the troops in Her Majesty’s pay had to comply as a matter of simple military discipline to his orders. Marlborough had no such specific authority over the Dutch troops. In order that the affairs of the Grand Alliance should proceed, that authority is what Marlborough had in practice: he could request that things be done and those requests were to be complied with, but only while the troops were actively on campaign. The Earl of Athlone, who had a good record as one of the late William III’s better generals, would have liked to have the appointment for himself, but although he was at first inclined to be resentful of Marlborough, he would feel able to write late in 1702 that ‘The success of this campaign is solely due to this incomparable Commander-in-Chief.’⁶

The army that Marlborough would lead was, of course, a confederate army comprising troops not only from Holland and England but from many other sources. The Dutch had for many years recruited foreign troops into their service, usually to camp...

Table of contents

• Coverpage
• Titlepage
• Copyright
• Contents
• List of Illustrations
• Maps
• Introduction
• 1. The War for Spain
• 2. Finding an Army
• 3. The Commanders
• 4. The Horse
• 5. The Foot Soldier: Lock, Stock and Barrel
• 6. The Gunners
• 7. The Engineers
• 8. Logistics
• 9. Marlborough’s Legacy
• Appendix A: Timeline for the War of the Spanish Succession
• Appendix B: Marlborough’s British Regiments, 1702–1711
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index
• Halftitle