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#34: The Watch on the Mincio
Could it be? Could it be?
***
A House Divided #34: The Watch on the Mincio
"The King will only call on me when he is danger. I will only take the ministry if I can be the master of it."
***
Palais des Tuileries
Paris
18 October 1849
“Your Majesty sent for me?”
The King rose from his seat and walked up to the door, something his father had never conceived of. “Yes, of course. Thank you, M. Thiers, for coming on such short notice.”
“It is customary for the King, the President and the Minister of Foreign Affairs to advise and consult each other on matters of high politics, sire. And here we both are.” [1]
“Indeed,” the King replied. Adolphe took the guest’s chair set out in front of the royal desk.
“What matter concerns Your Majesty?”
“It’s Italy, Thiers. Our little war.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve given me your assurance that we can force a decisive battle by marching on Mantua. The Austrians will either submit to siege or come out and challenge us, and the war cannot survive the battle. Cavaignac says the same, as did General Mac-Mahon before he left us.”
“I still believe that to be the case. The great Napoléon was well served by this tactic, and with luck it can see the war over by Christmas.”
“I have my concerns.”
“Indeed, sire?”
“Napoléon led his armies from the front. That was his strength, and the strength of France. Should I not do the same?”
“Napoléon was a military genius first and foremost, trained in the school of battle. With respect, sire, you are not. Mac-Mahon is the best general in France, and he has proven it in Algeria. He is the man to lead our armies in Italy.”
The King sat silent for a while. “None of what you’re saying is wrong, Thiers. Even so, I feel as though I ought to be there. To share the war with my people, come victory or defeat. That is the duty of a king, isn’t it?”
“I have no doubt, sire, that you would acquit yourself well in the field. But you would be putting yourself at risk. You may be useful in Italy, but you are needed here in the city, so that the people can rally around you and your humble servants in the Government.”
They both looked out the window. Outside, across the exercise ground and the fences, was the rue de Rivoli. [2] Far from the poorest district in the city, and yet the King could see underdressed people hurrying from place to place in fear of the cold, and a queue outside a bakery up one of the side streets. And it was only October – things would get worse before they got better.
“All right, Thiers. Let’s stay in Paris, and pray to the Lord for a swift end to the war.”
***
From “Between Scylla and Charybdis: Italy in the Age of Empires”
(c) 1983 by Francis Guadagno
Philadelphia: Historical Press
On October 20, as the traditional campaign season neared its end, the French army crossed the Adda into hitherto Austrian-held land. There was some friction with the locals, some of whom remembered the days when Napoleon and his rivals had fought over Italy for nearly a decade, but most welcomed them as liberators.
A small contingent was sent north, to the foothills of the Alps, to capture the cities of Bergamo and Brescia. Both fell quickly, with only light Austrian garrisons in place. Even though Bergamo’s geography, with a fortified city on a steep hill, lent itself perfectly to a siege, all efforts were spent on the Quadrilateral, to which Bergamo would be an indefensible salient.
The main thrust, both sides knew, would come at Mantua. Both the largest and most exposed of the Quadrilateral cities, [3] Mantua would need to be forced by any army looking to relieve Venice. Knowing this, Radetzky opted to mass his army, which still outnumbered the Franco-Italian force, between Mantua and Peschiera, in preparation for a decisive engagement.
The engagement came on the November 3, at Castiglione delle Stiviere. In the largest battle held in Europe since the fall of Napoleon, 82,000 French and Italian soldiers faced 96,000 Austrians, and some thirty thousand were either killed, wounded or captured on both sides. It was a hard day for both armies, but when the dust settled, the French held the field.
Radetzky retreated into Verona, but the bulk of his army stayed in Mantua. MacMahon, borrowing a page from the Napoleonic playbook, raced to cross the Mincio and surround Mantua before Radetzky could relieve the city. A second, smaller battle ensued by the bridge at Goito, where the French advanced through Austrian artillery to secure a bridgehead. The Austrians inflicted heavy casualties, but were unable to stop the French advance, and by the 7th, Mantua was surrounded.
France and its Italian allies now held all the land west of the Adige and south of the Po (excepting the still-ambivalent Papal States), and seriously threatened the Austrian position from the west. To the east, the city of Venice was still in rebellion, guarded by the width of its lagoon. The Austrians still held two Quadrilateral forts, Verona and Legnago, and Mantua could possibly have been relieved through a concerted effort. But by the time Radetzky had gotten his army back into something resembling fighting shape, the French chokehold on the city had been established.
And things only got worse. Austria had a tacit policy of stationing troops away from their homelands, so few of Radetzky’s men were Italians, but many were Croats from the Military Frontier, which was at that moment being invaded by Magyars under the Imperial flag. They were beginning to question their masters, and few were eager to return to the breach. Radetzky, ever cautious, began to fear that a winter of sitting still would destroy his army – so, ever the loyal soldier, he drew up plans to relieve Mantua immediately and sent them along to the court in Vienna.
He was surprised to find Vienna rejecting his plan and ordering him to stand down…
***
From “Power and Glory: European Empires in the 19th Century”
(c) 1981 by Dr. William Henderson
New Orleans: National Publishers
The Congress of Karlsruhe was the brainchild of Austrian Minister-President Schwarzenberg, who came to power after the tumult of 1849 and sought above all to prevent those risings from turning into a second great cycle of revolutionary war. The French campaign in Italy had threatened his plans, but Lombardy had more or less definitively fallen by the time he could react. The peace feelers sent out to Paris in early December 1849 hinted that this fait accompli would be recognized, and that was enough for Thiers to entertain the proposal.
It was decided that the peace negotiations should be held on neutral ground, and the capital of Baden – German, but liberal and vaguely pro-French – proved a suitable venue. In the huge ducal palace surrounded by a circular garden, negotiations went on through the winter and early spring, and the peace was signed on the 8th of April by Austria, Prussia, France, the Two Sicilies and several smaller German and Italian states. It was actually divided into three documents – one establishing peace between Austria and France on an ostensible status quo ante bellum basis, one “reorganizing” the German Confederation into basically its pre-1849 shape, and one establishing a new Italian Confederation to go along with it.
The last of these was the Congress’ really significant achievement. Initially, Schwarzenberg had wanted the Confederation to include Austria as President, like its German counterpart, but this was unacceptable to the French, who preferred a solution where Corsica would nominally be included and King Philippe named “Protector of Italy”. The decision eventually reached was to exclude both great powers from the Confederation, and make the Pope its head. Pius IX expressed some concern over the notion of gaining temporal power over the entire peninsula, but the weakness of the Confederation and the symbolic nature of its presidency made this a lesser point of importance. The true driving force in the Confederation, instead, would be the ever-energetic Francis II of the Two Sicilies…
***
From “Between Scylla and Charybdis: Italy in the Age of Empires”
(c) 1983 by Francis Guadagno
Philadelphia: Historical Press
It was Francis who resolved the question of how to deal with the republics in Piedmont and Lombardy (Venetia and Mantua remaining in Austrian hands). The idea of two revolutionary republics in between Europe’s two largest military powers was none too appealing to the powers at the Congress, and while the Savoyards could be restored to Piedmont, the idea of Lombardy and Piedmont being fused into one north Italian kingdom was just as threatening to European stability. So, it was reasoned, Lombardy should be made an independent grand duchy. Francis’ contribution was to suggest a suitable grand duke – his uncle Leopold, who was nearly sixty years old but had two adult sons to succeed him. [4] Leopold was a Protestant, which caused some concern in Catholic Italy, but the Milanese had always been somewhat independent-minded Catholics, [5] and Leopold’s liberalism weighed far more heavily for them than his religion.
Grand Duke Leopold I of Lombardy was proclaimed by the Lombard executive council on May 3, after Cattaneo had resigned in disgust, and his arrival in the city a few days later was greeted by huge cheering crowds. He would rule the territory until 1871, when he died of a stroke aged 80, and between Lombardy and the Two Sicilies, the Saxe-Coburg-Gotha dynasty would play a pivotal role in the slow unification of Italy.
***
[1] Thiers would nearly always serve as his own foreign affairs minister – so too now.
[2] The Haussmann renovations haven’t happened so far ITTL, so the medieval labyrinth of streets and alleyways still exists in all its resplendence. The rue de Rivoli still exists, forming the north side of the Tuileries complex, but it stops a block or two ahead of the Palais-Royal.
[3] As a refresher, the Quadrilateral consists of: Mantua (the biggest of the fortresses) just off the meeting of the Po and the Mincio in the southeast, Peschiera at the outflow of Lake Garda into the Mincio in the northwest, Verona at the foothills on the Adige in the northeast, and Legnago further down the Adige in the southeast. Together, they prevented any army from moving into Venetia – the northern flank was guarded by the Alps and Lake Garda, and the southern flank by the Po, which was wide enough that crossings could be easily repelled.
[4] Leopold became King of the Belgians IOTL, but obviously no Belgium exists ITTL, so he languishes as a minor German nobleman for quite a while. Unlike OTL, where he married Louis-Philippe’s daughter, ITTL he marries a minor German noblewoman who bears him at least two healthy children. IOTL his first son died in infancy, and his second son was Leopold II, who… well, suffice it to say the word “healthy” is probably pushing it.
[5] The Archdiocese of Milan and surrounding areas actually practices a different rite of worship from that of the Latin Church as a whole. Known as the Ambrosian Rite after legendary 4th-century Bishop Ambrose, who may or may not have invented it, it features small but noticeable differences to nearly every aspect of Church life.
***
A House Divided #34: The Watch on the Mincio
"The King will only call on me when he is danger. I will only take the ministry if I can be the master of it."
***
Palais des Tuileries
Paris
18 October 1849
“Your Majesty sent for me?”
The King rose from his seat and walked up to the door, something his father had never conceived of. “Yes, of course. Thank you, M. Thiers, for coming on such short notice.”
“It is customary for the King, the President and the Minister of Foreign Affairs to advise and consult each other on matters of high politics, sire. And here we both are.” [1]
“Indeed,” the King replied. Adolphe took the guest’s chair set out in front of the royal desk.
“What matter concerns Your Majesty?”
“It’s Italy, Thiers. Our little war.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve given me your assurance that we can force a decisive battle by marching on Mantua. The Austrians will either submit to siege or come out and challenge us, and the war cannot survive the battle. Cavaignac says the same, as did General Mac-Mahon before he left us.”
“I still believe that to be the case. The great Napoléon was well served by this tactic, and with luck it can see the war over by Christmas.”
“I have my concerns.”
“Indeed, sire?”
“Napoléon led his armies from the front. That was his strength, and the strength of France. Should I not do the same?”
“Napoléon was a military genius first and foremost, trained in the school of battle. With respect, sire, you are not. Mac-Mahon is the best general in France, and he has proven it in Algeria. He is the man to lead our armies in Italy.”
The King sat silent for a while. “None of what you’re saying is wrong, Thiers. Even so, I feel as though I ought to be there. To share the war with my people, come victory or defeat. That is the duty of a king, isn’t it?”
“I have no doubt, sire, that you would acquit yourself well in the field. But you would be putting yourself at risk. You may be useful in Italy, but you are needed here in the city, so that the people can rally around you and your humble servants in the Government.”
They both looked out the window. Outside, across the exercise ground and the fences, was the rue de Rivoli. [2] Far from the poorest district in the city, and yet the King could see underdressed people hurrying from place to place in fear of the cold, and a queue outside a bakery up one of the side streets. And it was only October – things would get worse before they got better.
“All right, Thiers. Let’s stay in Paris, and pray to the Lord for a swift end to the war.”
***
From “Between Scylla and Charybdis: Italy in the Age of Empires”
(c) 1983 by Francis Guadagno
Philadelphia: Historical Press
On October 20, as the traditional campaign season neared its end, the French army crossed the Adda into hitherto Austrian-held land. There was some friction with the locals, some of whom remembered the days when Napoleon and his rivals had fought over Italy for nearly a decade, but most welcomed them as liberators.
A small contingent was sent north, to the foothills of the Alps, to capture the cities of Bergamo and Brescia. Both fell quickly, with only light Austrian garrisons in place. Even though Bergamo’s geography, with a fortified city on a steep hill, lent itself perfectly to a siege, all efforts were spent on the Quadrilateral, to which Bergamo would be an indefensible salient.
The main thrust, both sides knew, would come at Mantua. Both the largest and most exposed of the Quadrilateral cities, [3] Mantua would need to be forced by any army looking to relieve Venice. Knowing this, Radetzky opted to mass his army, which still outnumbered the Franco-Italian force, between Mantua and Peschiera, in preparation for a decisive engagement.
The engagement came on the November 3, at Castiglione delle Stiviere. In the largest battle held in Europe since the fall of Napoleon, 82,000 French and Italian soldiers faced 96,000 Austrians, and some thirty thousand were either killed, wounded or captured on both sides. It was a hard day for both armies, but when the dust settled, the French held the field.
Radetzky retreated into Verona, but the bulk of his army stayed in Mantua. MacMahon, borrowing a page from the Napoleonic playbook, raced to cross the Mincio and surround Mantua before Radetzky could relieve the city. A second, smaller battle ensued by the bridge at Goito, where the French advanced through Austrian artillery to secure a bridgehead. The Austrians inflicted heavy casualties, but were unable to stop the French advance, and by the 7th, Mantua was surrounded.
France and its Italian allies now held all the land west of the Adige and south of the Po (excepting the still-ambivalent Papal States), and seriously threatened the Austrian position from the west. To the east, the city of Venice was still in rebellion, guarded by the width of its lagoon. The Austrians still held two Quadrilateral forts, Verona and Legnago, and Mantua could possibly have been relieved through a concerted effort. But by the time Radetzky had gotten his army back into something resembling fighting shape, the French chokehold on the city had been established.
And things only got worse. Austria had a tacit policy of stationing troops away from their homelands, so few of Radetzky’s men were Italians, but many were Croats from the Military Frontier, which was at that moment being invaded by Magyars under the Imperial flag. They were beginning to question their masters, and few were eager to return to the breach. Radetzky, ever cautious, began to fear that a winter of sitting still would destroy his army – so, ever the loyal soldier, he drew up plans to relieve Mantua immediately and sent them along to the court in Vienna.
He was surprised to find Vienna rejecting his plan and ordering him to stand down…
***
From “Power and Glory: European Empires in the 19th Century”
(c) 1981 by Dr. William Henderson
New Orleans: National Publishers
The Congress of Karlsruhe was the brainchild of Austrian Minister-President Schwarzenberg, who came to power after the tumult of 1849 and sought above all to prevent those risings from turning into a second great cycle of revolutionary war. The French campaign in Italy had threatened his plans, but Lombardy had more or less definitively fallen by the time he could react. The peace feelers sent out to Paris in early December 1849 hinted that this fait accompli would be recognized, and that was enough for Thiers to entertain the proposal.
It was decided that the peace negotiations should be held on neutral ground, and the capital of Baden – German, but liberal and vaguely pro-French – proved a suitable venue. In the huge ducal palace surrounded by a circular garden, negotiations went on through the winter and early spring, and the peace was signed on the 8th of April by Austria, Prussia, France, the Two Sicilies and several smaller German and Italian states. It was actually divided into three documents – one establishing peace between Austria and France on an ostensible status quo ante bellum basis, one “reorganizing” the German Confederation into basically its pre-1849 shape, and one establishing a new Italian Confederation to go along with it.
The last of these was the Congress’ really significant achievement. Initially, Schwarzenberg had wanted the Confederation to include Austria as President, like its German counterpart, but this was unacceptable to the French, who preferred a solution where Corsica would nominally be included and King Philippe named “Protector of Italy”. The decision eventually reached was to exclude both great powers from the Confederation, and make the Pope its head. Pius IX expressed some concern over the notion of gaining temporal power over the entire peninsula, but the weakness of the Confederation and the symbolic nature of its presidency made this a lesser point of importance. The true driving force in the Confederation, instead, would be the ever-energetic Francis II of the Two Sicilies…
***
From “Between Scylla and Charybdis: Italy in the Age of Empires”
(c) 1983 by Francis Guadagno
Philadelphia: Historical Press
It was Francis who resolved the question of how to deal with the republics in Piedmont and Lombardy (Venetia and Mantua remaining in Austrian hands). The idea of two revolutionary republics in between Europe’s two largest military powers was none too appealing to the powers at the Congress, and while the Savoyards could be restored to Piedmont, the idea of Lombardy and Piedmont being fused into one north Italian kingdom was just as threatening to European stability. So, it was reasoned, Lombardy should be made an independent grand duchy. Francis’ contribution was to suggest a suitable grand duke – his uncle Leopold, who was nearly sixty years old but had two adult sons to succeed him. [4] Leopold was a Protestant, which caused some concern in Catholic Italy, but the Milanese had always been somewhat independent-minded Catholics, [5] and Leopold’s liberalism weighed far more heavily for them than his religion.
Grand Duke Leopold I of Lombardy was proclaimed by the Lombard executive council on May 3, after Cattaneo had resigned in disgust, and his arrival in the city a few days later was greeted by huge cheering crowds. He would rule the territory until 1871, when he died of a stroke aged 80, and between Lombardy and the Two Sicilies, the Saxe-Coburg-Gotha dynasty would play a pivotal role in the slow unification of Italy.
***
[1] Thiers would nearly always serve as his own foreign affairs minister – so too now.
[2] The Haussmann renovations haven’t happened so far ITTL, so the medieval labyrinth of streets and alleyways still exists in all its resplendence. The rue de Rivoli still exists, forming the north side of the Tuileries complex, but it stops a block or two ahead of the Palais-Royal.
[3] As a refresher, the Quadrilateral consists of: Mantua (the biggest of the fortresses) just off the meeting of the Po and the Mincio in the southeast, Peschiera at the outflow of Lake Garda into the Mincio in the northwest, Verona at the foothills on the Adige in the northeast, and Legnago further down the Adige in the southeast. Together, they prevented any army from moving into Venetia – the northern flank was guarded by the Alps and Lake Garda, and the southern flank by the Po, which was wide enough that crossings could be easily repelled.
[4] Leopold became King of the Belgians IOTL, but obviously no Belgium exists ITTL, so he languishes as a minor German nobleman for quite a while. Unlike OTL, where he married Louis-Philippe’s daughter, ITTL he marries a minor German noblewoman who bears him at least two healthy children. IOTL his first son died in infancy, and his second son was Leopold II, who… well, suffice it to say the word “healthy” is probably pushing it.
[5] The Archdiocese of Milan and surrounding areas actually practices a different rite of worship from that of the Latin Church as a whole. Known as the Ambrosian Rite after legendary 4th-century Bishop Ambrose, who may or may not have invented it, it features small but noticeable differences to nearly every aspect of Church life.
- Utgard96
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