With Part 6, which covers the years 1710 to 1714, we conclude our series of posts on the War of the Spanish Succession.

In 1710, Louis XIV’s luck began to turn.  He sent a new army into Spain to help Felipe V.  In command was the Duc de Vendôme, this time without the Duc de Bourgogne to get in his way.  Left to his own lights, the old duke defeated the Anglo-Austrian forces and drove them out of Spain by the end of the year.  He returned to Versailles covered in glory and left Felipe V firmly on the Spanish throne once and for all.

Today we bring you Part 4 of the War of the Spanish Succession.  In Part 3, we saw that war was officially declared on France and Spain by England, the United Provinces (today’s Netherlands), and Austria in the spring 1702.

The States of Europe Take Sides

In the beginning, France and Spain faced Europe alone.  They were soon joined by Bavaria, whose Elector still believed that his late son, Prince Joseph Ferdinand, the designated heir to the Spanish throne in the late 1690s, had been poisoned by Austrian agents.  The Elector of Cologne also signed on.  The last addition to the team was Savoy. It should perhaps be explained that the duchy of Savoy was an independent state at this time.  Its duke also possessed the principality of Piedmont and ruled from its capital, Turin.  The Duke of Savoy was more or less obligated to support France and Spain because one of his daughters was married to the Duc de Bourgogne, third in line in to the French throne as the eldest grandson of Louis XIV, and another daughter was married to Bourgogne’s younger brother, the newly minted Felipe V of Spain.  Savoy was an unreliable ally, however.  Nancy Mitford remarks in her biography of Louis XIV, The Sun King, that Duke Vittorio Amadeo was famous for never finishing a war on the same side that he started on.  On the whole, it was an underwhelming team.  Apart from Savoy’s unreliability, there was the problem of Spain’s near bankruptcy and general weakness. The Elector of Bavaria was a solid ally, but lacked resources.  Cologne, of course, was too insignificant to make much of a difference.  France would have to shoulder most of the financial and military burden itself.

Those who have been following this series from the beginning will recognize the map below because I used it in Part 1.  It may be helpful here in Part 4, too, so I’m reproducing it again.

Europe in 1700. Credit: Wikipedia.

On the other side, the Grand Alliance, as the England-United Provinces-Austria axis called itself, was joined by Portugal, Brandenburg-Prussia, Hanover, and various other German states, the most important of which was the Palatinate (German: Pfalz), a Rhineland state on the French border that was coincidentally ruled by another branch of the Bavarian ruling dynasty.  The Palatinate, to the horror of Louis XIV’s sister-in-law, a Palatine princess, had been devastated by French armies in a prior war and was itching for revenge.  It was more or less understood that Austria would supply most of the military muscle on the continent while England and the United Provinces would provide sea power.

When we last left Felipe V, he had just arrived in Madrid, his new capital, on 22 January, 1701, carrying a letter of advice from his grandfather, Louis XIV.  At first, his accession went smoothly, with no war imminent.

The portrait of Felipe V at left hangs in a state room at Versailles, where he was proclaimed King of Spain on 16 November, 1700.

All of the Spanish dominions accepted him as their king.  The nations of Europe did, too, except for Austria.  At the beginning of 1701 it seemed that Felipe V’s accession was a fait accompli.  The calm was not to last, however.

Reader M. Reginald O’Toole (a splendid name) has written via a private message to ask a question about Louis XIV’s letter of advice to his teenaged grandson, the newly-minted Felipe V of Spain.  Did Felipe take his august grandfather’s advice?

I can’t give give an exhaustive, point-by-point answer, but in general, I would say the answer is both yes and no.  Of course, some of Louis XIV’s advice, as mentioned in the last post, is in the spirit of ‘Do as I say, rather than as I do.’  For instance, Louis enjoins his grandson not to have favourites.  This is amusing coming from the monarch who made the role of mistress to the King of France almost an official position.

Felipe is not known to have had any mistresses, so he can be said, in that sense, to have taken his grandfather’s advice.  The Bourbon men were highly sexed.  Even when they were both in their seventies, Louis XIV “honoured” Mme de Maintenon, his second, secret wife, twice a day.  In this regard, Felipe also took Louis’ advice.

A Letter of Advice from Louis XIV to His Grandson, Felipe V of Spain

Having been declared King of Spain on 16 November 1700, Felipe V, formerly Philippe d’Anjou, left Versailles for Spain on 4 December.  He didn’t reach Madrid until 22 January 1701.  Along the way, he would have had plenty of time to read and ponder the letter handed to him by his grandfather on his departure.

Louis XIV had composed a 33-point letter of advice for his teenaged grandson, bringing to bear the experience of his then nearly 6 decades on the French throne, 4 of them as sole ruler.  Some of his advice is in the spirit of ‘Do as I say, not as I do.’  It also reveals some of the Sun King’s notions of kingship.

Felipe V as Philippe d’Anjou, probably just before his accession.

The War of the Spanish Succession was one of the defining events of the Versailles Century (1682-1789).  Today on the blog we’ll examine the background of the conflict.

In the late 1690s, Europe was preoccupied by the question of who was to succeed Spain’s childless king, Carlos II, who was feeble of both mind and body.  Still only in his 30s, he was nonetheless thought to be on his last legs.  Unfortunately for him, his house, the Spanish branch of the Habsburgs, was the most inbred dynasty in the history of Europe.  His own parents, for instance, were uncle and niece.  The most visible outcome of this inbreeding in Carlos II was his deformed jaw, which made it difficult for him to speak and eat.

Charles II of Spain (1661-1700).  Credit: Wikipedia.

Today we have the final instalment of Frederick II’s incognito visit to Strasbourg in the summer of 1740, soon after his accession, as remembered by the Marquis de Valfons in his memoirs.

Frederick has now definitely been recognized and the local military governor, the Maréchal de Broglie, wants to entertain him.

In this instalment of our tale, translated by me from the memoirs of the Marquis de Valfons, Frederick, traveling as ‘Count Dufour,’ realizes that his cover has been blown:

‘Count Dufour was not yet in bed when I called at the Maréchal (Marshal) de Broglie’s to tell him what I had seen and what the innkeeper, in the know despite the silence of the count’s suite, had told me.  The Maréchal sent M de Laigle, his wife’s nephew, to offer the noble foreigner lodgings in his own house and everything that he could desire.  Count Dufour, afraid of being recognized, was very annoyed by this message and thanked M de Laigle, then Colonel d’Enghien, who let him go to bed.

François-Marie de Broglie (1671-1745), Marshal of France, created Duke in 1742. Credit: Wikipedia.

Frederick II (1712-1786) of Prussia, called the Great, was avowedly francophile.  Raised by a French governess and always more comfortable speaking French than German, he read and wrote almost exclusively in the language of Molière.  It’s perhaps surprising, therefore, to realize that he only ever set foot in France once in his long life.

In August of 1740, a few months after his accession to the throne, he went on a tour of his Rhenish possessions, tantalizingly close to the French frontier.  He couldn’t resist slipping into Strasbourg incognito.  Not only was Strasbourg a French city, it was a garrison town, thus allowing Frederick to combine business with pleasure: he could visit the fabled country of which he’d heard so much and at the same time gather military intelligence. Fortunately for us, a young French officer who encountered the King left an eyewitness account of this unofficial visit in his memoirs.  More fortunately still, I picked up a copy of the newly issued edition of these memoirs, Souvenirs du Marquis de Valfons, in the bookshop at Versailles on my visit there in late March, 2016.

I had never heard of this Valfons before.  Born in 1710, he served in Louis XV’s army for several decades.  Apparently very handsome, he also cut a swathe through the court and high society in Paris.  In 1740, he was serving in the Piedmont regiment, which at that time was stationed in Strasbourg.  As far as I can make out, his memoirs have never been published in English.  What follows, therefore, is my own translation of the pages about Frederick’s brief sojourn in Strasbourg.