The Gauntlet Thrown
The war in all probability will now be carried on with great vigour in Italy.
- The Duke of Newcastle to Admiral Thomas Mathews, December 1743
On Christmas Day of 1743, a conference was held in Turin to discuss the strategy of the Pragmatic Allies in Italy for the coming year. The Sardinians were represented by King
Carlo Emanuele III and his chief minister Marquis
Carlo Vincenzo Ferrero d’Ormea, the Austrians by their plenipotentiary ambassador Count
Wenzel Anton von Kaunitz-Rietberg and General Baron
Ladislaus Kökényesdi von Vetés, and the British by Rear Admiral
Thomas Mathews and ambassador
Arthur Villettes. Although the Treaty of Worms had made them allies, it had not resolved their fundamental differences as to how they believed the war ought to be prosecuted.
The Sardinians had every reason to expect a major Gallispan offensive into their territory once the snows melted sufficiently to permit passage through the Alps, as the Bourbon allies had already amassed more than 50,000 men on the west side of the Var under Marshal
Lautrec and General
de la Mina.
[A] Admiral Mathews was equally apprehensive about this advance, particularly if it were to come along the coastal route towards Nice and Villefranche. Villefranche was the primary victualling base of his squadron. His closest alternatives were Port Mahon and Livorno, both of which were much further from the fleet’s base of operations at Hyères Roadstead. Continuing the blockade would still be possible even without Villefranche, but it would become more difficult, and as a result more porous. Mathews had helped the Sardinians harden this position by disembarking a substantial quantity of cannon and swivel guns from his ships to add to the fortifications, but the British could only offer weapons, not men.
Matters were further complicated by the ambiguous position of France. France had by now declared war on Sardinia, but they were not as yet formally at war with Britain despite the two countries already coming to blows on the continent. This gave France a substantial advantage, as if the French fleet were to emerge from Toulon on its own (that is, without the Spanish fleet which was also at Toulon) Mathews would have no cause to attack them. What Mathews feared was that the French admiral might effect a junction with the French Atlantic squadron based out of Brest, and this combined fleet could then descend upon his detachment off the Italian coast without warning and cause great havoc. War or not, if the French left Toulon he was obligated to pursue them, but if he gave chase he would be drawn away from the Italian coast, giving the Spanish free reign to escape with their fleet and move supplies and troops into Italy.
The Austrians were entirely insensitive to these concerns. Queen
Maria Theresa had stomached the loss of Silesia only because she had been assured of compensation, and she was determined to swiftly take it with an invasion of Naples led by Feldmarschall
Georg Christian, Fürst von Lobkowitz. Ambassador Kaunitz wanted at least a dozen British ships of the line dispatched to assist in this venture, which Mathews found quite mad given that the Toulon fleet was busily preparing for action and might break out any week now. D’Ormea argued that the primary aim of the allies in Italy was not to conquer Naples but to prevent a junction between the Gallispan army in Provence and the Spanish army in central Italy. If the Austrians marched against Naples and the Bourbons managed to penetrate the Riviera into Genoa and march on Parma and Piacenza, Lobkowitz’s army would be caught between the Spanish forces. But such arguments made no impression upon the Queen of Hungary, who suspected that the canny Carlo Emanuele was once more trying to cheat her and use Austrian soldiers for his own purposes. When the conference ended a week later there was still no compromise in sight. The Queen of Hungary was determined to have Naples no matter what, even though Lobkowitz himself opined that action against Naples without naval support was impractical.
Mathews’ fears seemed to be realized on the 1st of February, when he received word that the French Atlantic squadron had sailed from Brest. He could not be certain where they were headed; perhaps, as he had feared, they intended to join the Toulon squadron. It was also possible that they intended to cruise in the Atlantic so as to interfere with British trade and supply convoys, or to make some attack against Ireland or England itself. But Mathews had even more pressing things to worry about, for on February 4th the combined Gallispan fleet, including 28 ships of the line, sailed from Toulon.
Mathews’ assumption about the Gallispan fleet, that it intended to escape to sea and rendezvous with the Brest squadron, proved incorrect. Paris and Madrid had other plans: They wished to bypass Sardinia
entirely by landing the Gallispan army directly in Italy, probably at Spezia. That would require gaining naval superiority in the Mediterranean, which meant defeating Mathews and his squadron. Thus the intent of the Gallispan admirals
Claude-Élisée de Court and
Juan José de Navarro was not to
escape Mathews, but to
attack him, and the departure of the squadron from Brest was entirely irrelevant. But the Bourbons, too, had misjudged the enemy, for they had underestimated the strength of the British fleet. By the numbers, the fleets were comparable; the British had only one ship of the line more than their opponents. But the British edge in firepower was more considerable. Although the Spanish boasted the most powerful ship on the water, the 110-gun
Real Felipe, the Gallispan fleet possessed only one other ship with more than 74 guns. The British, in contrast, boasted four 90-gun ships and seven 80-gun ships in their fleet.
Court’s attempt to catch the British by surprise in Hyères Roadstead was a failure, and probably impossible, as Mathews’s frigates were watching Toulon closely and kept the admiral abreast of the Gallispan fleet’s movements. Nevertheless, foul wind hampered the development of the British fleet, and they emerged from the Roadstead in poor order. Rather than waiting to form a proper line of battle, Mathews moved quickly to engage despite the confusion of his line. He knew that his ships, being heavily fouled from many months at sea, would be slower than the clean-hulled Gallispan fleet. He still labored under the misconception that the ultimate goal of his enemy was to escape him and find the Brest squadron, and as the French turned away towards the south he feared that failure to begin action immediately would result in the enemy escaping. What ensued was a confused running battle in which the British ships generally got the better of their opponents, but through poor order, bad communications, and incoherent tactics were unable to use their superior firepower to its full advantage. By the end of the day on the 6th, much of the British fleet had been heavily battered and pulled away to the east. The British had only lost one ship - HMS
Rupert had surrendered after being disabled and drifting into the Spanish line - but many of Mathews’ ships were so badly damaged as to no longer be combat-effective, including his own flagship.
HMS Namur, Mathews' flagship, depicted after the battle
Court had looked forward pursuing the enemy with the coming of sunlight, but the situation on the morning of the 7th caused him to reconsider. Firstly, the British fleet had gained in strength. Mathews had now been joined by two undamaged British warships (the 70-gun
Nassau and the 80-gun
Torbay) which had been cruising when the Gallispan fleet had emerged from Toulon, and his combat-effective ships had finally established an ordered line which shielded the more damaged ships of the fleet. Secondly, the Spanish fleet was in just as much a shambles as the British. Navarro’s flagship, the
Real Felipe, was a splintered hulk which was so damaged aloft as to be incapable of keeping up with the fleet, and Navarro himself had been taken out of action by wounds. The
Constante had been crippled when a British fireship exploded off her bow. The fleets matched course for a time, but ultimately Court chose to cover the withdrawal of the Spanish.
[B]
The Bourbons, and the Spanish in particular, were exultant. All agreed that the Spanish, despite their relative lack of training, had fought with exceptional bravery. Madrid had thus far found little success in the war, and the heroism of Navarro finally furnished them with a triumph. A grateful royal couple bestowed the honorary title of “Marquis of Victory” upon the admiral, who eventually recovered from his wounds; all that tainted the victory was the suspicion that the French had not pulled their full weight and had allowed the Spanish to take the brunt of British fire. The reaction in France was positive but not quite as exuberant, as Court’s decision not to pursue the enemy and potentially turn a marginal victory into a crushing one was heavily criticized. Although some in Britain initially claimed that the battle was a British victory because of Court's withdrawal, most were of the opinion that it was a stinging defeat; the British had lost a ship and taken a severe beating at the hands of inferior forces.
Yet amid the celebration in France and Britain, it was almost forgotten that the combined fleet had not actually achieved its objective. The Bourbons had seriously shaken British supremacy in the Mediterranean, but they had not quite gained it for themselves. The Spanish fleet which limped into Cartagena would be out of action for some time, not only because of physical damage but because of heavy casualties among the crews which would be difficult to replace. The Spanish navy was already short on experienced sailors, and in fact several Spanish ships had remained at Toulon during the battle for want of crewmen. The French fleet was in better condition and for a time enjoyed limited freedom, which as we shall see was used productively. Yet their commanders were not bold enough to take full advantage of the opportunity they had gained, and in any case France was soon dealt a setback that robbed it of all eagerness for naval adventure.
The French had never planned for the Atlantic squadron at Brest to sail southwards, for they had a far grander design: to knock Britain out of the war in one fell swoop. Britain had spread itself thinly trying to contest the war in both the West Indies and the Mediterranean, and the French hoped to use the Brest squadron to secure the English Channel long enough for
Maurice de Saxe to land in England with 10,000 men, march on London, and restore the Stuart monarchy. With King
George III and his “Pragmatic Army” still in Germany, not many men had been left to guard the homeland itself, and under Saxe’s brilliant command the French gambit might well have succeeded. The French fleet, however, proved unequal to the task. Admiral
Jacques Aymar de Roquefeuil had been instructed to “crush” the British Channel squadron which was reported to be only “nine or ten” strong, but in fact the British had amassed a squadron of nineteen sail under Sir
John Norris. In what came to be called the “Battle of Dungeness,” Norris’ superior squadron captured three French warships and forced another aground where it was taken apart by the rocks and the tide with the loss of nearly all hands. Some British ships took significant damage, but none were lost or disabled, and all were able to return to port as the winds began to pick up. With their covering fleet utterly defeated, the French were forced to call off the invasion.
[C]
Coming shortly after the Battle of Toulon - Norris’ victory had happened just a few days after news of Mathews’ defeat reached London - the Battle of Dungeness was a much-needed shot in the arm for the British and a political debacle in France. Incredibly, all of this had happened while France and Britain remained technically at peace, but after Toulon and Dungeness there was no longer much point in pretending. What the French had started as an opportunistic attempt to interfere in the imperial succession and gain influence in the Empire had now become a continental war for supremacy. In March, recognizing the new reality and the true scale of the conflict, France declared war on Britain and Austria.
The most salient outcome of these clashes on the high sea, as far as the war in Italy was concerned, was that they forced a confrontation over the Alps. Without naval supremacy in the Mediterranean, the Gallispan army had no choice but to enter Italy by land, which required an attack against Sardinia. Nice and Villefranche were the obvious first targets, and their conquest was made considerably easier by the absence of Mathews’ fleet at Port Mahon, where it had been forced by strong winds and his fleet’s desperate need for repairs. Although the Bourbon plan to move the entire army to Italy could not be completed, the Gallispan forces was able to use the temporary absence of Mathews and the weakness of his blockade to move a substantial amount of supplies and materiel to Genoa and Naples, as well as landing some four thousand men at Monaco where they joined with an existing French garrison and hoped to catch the Sardinians in a vise when the main Gallispan army launched its assault over the Var.
The Sardinian port of Villefranche
The strategic plan after that was less clear. The Spanish, who desired to effect a junction with their Italian army and seize their war objective of Parma as soon as possible, favored a march eastwards through Liguria into central Italy. The French commander Marshal Lautrec thought this risky. A littoral advance would permit the British, who still controlled the seas, to interrupt supplies and communications along the coastal route, and the Gallispan army might find itself cut off from France entirely by means of a Sardinian counterattack. In late February this question remained theoretical, as the Gallispan army had only just begun its land operations against Nice. Nevertheless, it was clear to the Spanish that their plan would benefit substantially from Genoese cooperation, and thus Madrid pressed Genoa to abandon its already compromised neutrality and join the alliance.
As the Bourbons attempted to pull Genoa into their orbit, so the Savoyard monarchy began to engage more seriously with the Corsicans. As has been mentioned, by the end of 1743 Theodore had been in communication with Carlo Emanuele for months. This conversation was mostly one-way, but it had seemed promising enough for Theodore to arrange a more official line of communication. Initially his introduction to d’Ormea, and thus to the king, had been made through Villettes, but by December Theodore had his own man in Turin,
Domenico Carlo Rivarola.
Given his background, Rivarola’s participation in the revolution went somewhat against the grain. The extended Rivarola family was one of the notable patrician houses of Genoa. Paolo Battista Rivarola, the commissioner-general of Corsica at the time of Theodore’s landing (who had surrendered Bastia to the king) was Domenico’s distant relative. Domenico belonged to a less prestigious branch of the family from the Ligurian town of Chiavari, and his father had moved from there to Bastia and married a Corsican woman from Omessa. Domenico was born in 1687 and became a career civil servant, eventually serving as the
podesta of Bastia in 1724 and the vice-consul of Spain a few years later. When the revolution exploded in 1729, Domenico at first fancied himself a peacemaker and attempted to negotiate between the rebels of the interior and his Genoese employers. He traveled to Genoa to warn the Senate about the seriousness of the rebellion and the need for concessions, but the Genoese government paid him no heed, and thereafter Rivarola’s allegiance turned to the rebels. He was a personal friend of Sebastiano Costa, who had urged him to use his position and resources to win support for the Corsican cause abroad. How successful he was is unclear, but we eventually find him at Livorno arranging shipments of weapons and supplies to the rebels. Rivarola returned to Corsica at some point prior to Theodore’s landing, and when the baron arrived he rushed to give his allegiance.
Although he had gone to considerable trouble to support the rebels, Rivarola’s loyalty was not entirely unwavering, particularly where money was involved. As vice-consul he had been accused of embezzling a considerable sum, though given his later estrangement from the Genoese the truth of this is hard to determine. Theodore made him a governor in the vicinity of Serra, where as an in-law of the Matra clan he had powerful friends, but the king kept him at arms’ length after a letter which intercepted suggested his participation in a conspiracy against several members of the king’s cabinet (this happened shortly after the execution of the traitor Luccioni). When Saviero Matra capitulated to the French and turned collaborator, Rivarola followed, but the Genoese were still after him on embezzlement charges and Marshal Lautrec later expelled him from the island. Rivarola traveled from Livorno to Naples and eventually went north to Turin.
Theodore did not entirely trust Rivarola, but he was the obvious choice to serve as an ambassador in Turin. Rivarola was well-educated, cultured, and of noble blood, which were important assets when dealing with a proper European royal court. He spoke a number of languages fluently (at the very least Italian, French, and Spanish) and he had dabbled in foreign affairs as a vice-consul for Spain. Most importantly of all, he was actually
in Turin, where Theodore had few (if any) other Corsican agents. He would certainly not be a plenipotentiary - even if he had been completely trustworthy, Theodore was too possessive of foreign policy to give any man such power - but as a glorified courier between Theodore and the Court of Turin he appeared suitable, and hopefully could not get up to too much mischief.
[D]
Theodore was aware that he needed to appear useful to the allies and not a mere beggar, and so for the past few months he had stressed to the Sardinians two key services he could provide. The first concerned the island’s ports. Theodore was well aware of the precarity of the British squadron gathered at the Hyeres Roadstead and the limited number of Mediterranean ports which were available for their shelter and resupply. Calvi and San Fiorenzo (which were the ports most likely to be of interest in the present war) were not well-developed ports and lacked the dockyards and arsenals that would be needed for major repairs or overhauls, but they could certainly be used to supply the British fleet with food and water as well as to careen Mathews’ badly fouled ships. Insofar as this made the British blockade tighter, this was of interest to Carlo Emanuele, but Theodore’s “offer” had serious issues. In the first place, neither Calvi nor San Fiorenzo were actually in Corsican hands, and while San Fiorenzo might be quickly taken by a concerted assault - by October its total garrison was a mere 80 men - Calvi was unlikely to fall to the Corsicans alone. There was also the slight matter that if the British fleet
were to use these “liberated” harbors it would be a flagrant breach of both Genoese sovereignty and British law. Despite the favors for Theodore rendered by the British Navy, any commerce with the Corsican “malcontents” was still banned and Theodore’s government was still entirely unrecognized.
[1]
Theodore’s second offer concerned soldiers. The king grandly claimed that, with the proper subsidies, he could raise 8,000 Corsicans for service on the continent with the Austro-Sardinian army, all of whom would be eager to avenge themselves against the Frenchmen who had occupied their country. Even by Theodore’s standards, this was breathtaking in its mendacity. The idea that Theodore could find 8,000 Corsicans (more than 6% of the island’s entire population) ready and willing to cross the sea and shed their blood for the rights of the Queen of Hungary was madness, and few people in Corsica wanted to “avenge” themselves against the French, whose occupation in the north had been generally mild and even-handed (to say nothing of the fact that the Austrians had
also occupied their country, and done so
twice). But nobody at Turin was in a position to dispute Theodore’s numbers, a state of ignorance which ironically enough was perpetuated by Genoese censorship, and it seemed plausible that they might indeed flock to the anti-Bourbon cause with enthusiasm, either to satiate their well-known love of vengeance or simply out of a desire to win their country’s freedom. Certainly few doubted that the Corsicans were a “martial race” of some renown after their astonishing victories over the French Army at San Pellegrino and Ponte Novu.
A new source of soldiers was particularly appealing to Carlo Emanuele, who ruled a relatively small state (about 2.3 million people) which was relatively wealthy but had limited manpower. To expand his army without taking vital laborers away from fields and industries, the king had relied heavily on recruiting Swiss mercenaries into his army over the past few years of war. While these units were to prove their value in combat, they knew that their services were in high demand and commanded lavish salaries compared to the “native” Piedmontese provincial infantry. Carlo Emanuele was willing to take any warm bodies to expand his ranks, but given the poverty and reputed martial vigor of the Corsicans there was some hope that they would turn out to be a sort of “discount Swiss,” capable troops at an affordable price.
Although not a matter of the highest priority, Corsica was a subject of discussion during the Turin Conference in December, and Theodore’s proposals were at least informally provided to Turin’s allies. It is perhaps notable that, of the six figures at the conference, General Vetés was the only one of the participants who had no connection to the Baron von Neuhoff: Carlo Emanuele and d’Ormea had received his letters, while Mathews, Villettes, and Kaunitz had actually met him.
[2] Nevertheless, Theodore’s plans were met with a lukewarm reception at best. The British pointed out the difficulty of actually using Corsican ports given Genoa’s neutrality, while Vetés (and probably others) questioned whether Theodore could actually raise that many men and in sufficient time as to be of use. The general consensus was that the matter had not sufficiently ripened; Theodore would, perhaps, best be used as a cudgel to keep Genoa in line, and active support for the rebels was not conceivable at the moment. Yet that did not mean that more measured steps might be taken. After the dissolution of the conference, the king instructed
Giuseppe Antonio Osorio Alarçon, his ambassador to Britain, to secure the consent of the British government for Sardinia to raise troops from the insular and expatriate Corsicans. That permission was readily given by Southern Secretary
Thomas Pelham-Holles, Duke of Newcastle, but the result of his lengthy diplomatic exchange between Turin and London Osorio’s report did not reach Turin until the 3rd of February 1744.
Despite some administrative successes in the months of peace, as 1743 drew to a close and the Ortiporio deadline loomed Theodore and his government seemed ill-prepared for war. The royal government had managed to modestly improve its tax revenue so as to increase the number of regulated troops of the “flying companies” to some 200 men, but the state coffers remained scanty and the government had no other standing forces aside from the king’s personal guard. The king and his Secretary of War, Count
Marcantonio Giappiconi, had made some efforts at organizing the Castagniccian militias and appointing new officers, but the government had difficulty giving these officers the arms and salaries they demanded owing to both a shortage of money and logistical hurdles. The Genoese clearly had no intention of meeting the
consulta’s ultimatum in time, but it remained unclear if the nation would actually rally to the king and march to war when that time came. The
consulta had delayed the uprising before and they could very easily do it again if enthusiasm for war was lacking.
If the fiscal situation was rather poor, that of supplies and other war materiel was somewhat better. Shipments from Tunis, Livorno, and even Genoa itself, bought with Jewish and syndicate credit, had been flowing into Ajaccio, Isola Rossa, and the estuaries of the eastern shore. Although a few ships were intercepted, the Genoese navy was clearly too feeble to rigorously enforce a blockade. There were, in the first place, too few of them, but they were now also forced to face rebel coastal defenses. The towers that the Genoese had built centuries ago to allow the Corsicans to protect themselves from Barbary corsairs were now being used by the Corsicans to protect themselves from the Genoese, and despite their obsolete construction and armament these towers could still pose a danger to the small galliots, feluccas, and gondolas which were the workhorses of the Republic’s blockade. The Republic’s complement of “full-sized” galleys was only half a dozen. Moreover, galley-type ships were principally fair weather craft whose use in Corsican waters was perilous in the winter months.
Artillery was also relatively plentiful. Count
Giuseppe Costa reported that over the course of the summer and autumn the Corsicans had managed to salvage more than 30 guns from the wreck of the
San Isidro, around half of the ship’s overall complement. Some of these pieces remained at “Fort Costa” opposite the harbor in case the Genoese returned, but Theodore ordered that as many of the 12 and 18-pounder guns as could be spared were to be brought inland. Most of them lacked carriages, as they had not survived the warship’s explosion and sinking as well as the guns themselves, but given time the Corsicans could manufacture gun carriages themselves. The greater problem was moving heavy guns over the length of the rugged island. By the time winter set in and the Vizzavona Pass over the island’s mountainous spine was rendered impassable by snow, the Corsicans had only managed to move a total of eleven guns from Ajaccio to Corti, and Corti was still a long way from the fortresses of the north which would be the main objectives of a new uprising. The rebels had been building a reasonable stock of gunpowder, but if heavy artillery could not be brought to bear on the citadels there was little the rebels could hope to accomplish.
Theodore’s situation may not have been ideal, but Commissioner-General
Pier Maria Giustiniani was even worse off. The Genoese Senate had not only taken nearly half his soldiers but was plundering Corsica for anything of military value that might be of service in protecting the homeland. The Ordnance Office ordered the citadel armories to be stripped of all their surplus weapons for the armament of Ligurian militias and requisitioned dozens of artillery pieces for transfer to the mainland fortresses. The government also ordered the formation of new companies of Corsican regular infantry, who by necessity were drawn mainly from the
filogenovesi living in and around the Genoese-controlled zones. That offer was particularly tempting to existing
micheletti and irregular loyalist militia bands who knew that they would enjoy a higher and more reliably paid wage as regular troops. Even financial resources were redirected, and like Spinola before him Giustiniani found it increasingly difficult to pay the regular forces still under his command. The results were dispiriting: Giustiniani could do nothing but watch as his best militia forces evaporated, his armories were emptied of all but a smattering of obsolete and non-functioning muskets insufficient to arm those loyalists who remained, his citadels were stripped of their best bronze guns leaving mostly 17th and 16th century iron antiques, and more of his regulars deserted every day as their wages fell progressively further into arrears. He sent urgent warnings that the Corsicans were arming themselves for a new uprising, but to no avail. It was not that the Genoese government did not care; they simply had higher priorities. Giustiniani was instructed to hold on with what he had.
So it was that the six month deadline came and went with little comment from either side. With no artillery in position and money still tight, the situation by January seemed so unfavorable to a new uprising that Theodore was probably grateful for the poor weather. January snows not only closed Vizzavona but made a convocation of a new national
consulta impractical, which was a convenient excuse to delay a rebellion. Giustiniani certainly wasn’t going to object to a delay, as his own situation was abominably poor and he knew very well that he had nothing to offer which would satisfy the
naziunali. Not wanting to play into Theodore’s hands by being the one to cut off the obviously fruitless negotiations, there seemed no other option but to wait and hope that the present quiet was indicative of a deeper paralysis in the ranks of the nationals and not merely the calm before the storm.
Footnotes
[1] By European countries at least, but it is generally agreed that the Kingdom of Corsica was already recognized by the Beylik of Tunis. The exact year is disputed; a treaty between Theodore and the Bey of Tunis was first signed in 1735, but at that time Theodore was not yet king and the bey was overthrown before Theodore even arrived on Corsica. Even if this first treaty is discounted, however, the validity of the subsequent treaty of alliance between Theodore and Ali Pasha in 1743 is unshakable.
[2] Kaunitz’s first mission as a diplomat was to Turin, Rome, and Florence in 1741. There is documentary evidence that Kaunitz paid Theodore a visit at dell’Agata’s house in Florence and had an interview with him. Unfortunately the substance of this interview is entirely unknown.
Timeline Notes
[A] This is a key difference from OTL, and the first major departure from history as far as the general conduct of the war goes. IOTL the French army which first began combat operations against the Sardinians in 1744 was led by the Prince of Conti, but Conti’s road to command was quite unique. Louis XV evidently did not trust his ambitious young cousin, and Conti was initially
denied a command early in the war. He defied this command and joined the army of Maillebois without permission, but was caught, arrested, and stripped of his rank. Yet Louis was evidently convinced to take some pity on him, for Conti was released and given a relatively minor command. He led a 6,000-strong French division at Deckendorf, but was forced to retreat by the inexorable advance of the Austrians through Bavaria. Brave even to the point of recklessness, Conti had a horse shot out from under him and also managed to lose all his baggage in this battle. Allegedly impressed by his cousin’s courage, the king gave him command of the army preparing to invade Italy in February of 1744 at the tender age of 26. Yet although Conti’s campaign got off to an excellent start, the wily Charles Emmanuel eventually got the better of him and the Gallispan army was compelled to withdraw back over the Alps despite winning every battle in the campaign. Such a series of events that led to Conti’s command in 1744 could easily not have happened, particularly given that ITTL Lautrec led the army in Bohemia to which Conti was initially attached rather than Maillebois, and thus Conti was probably in different places at different times even if you
don’t account for random butterflies. Perhaps ITTL his bravery was not as conspicuous; perhaps Conti caught the bullet that IOTL merely struck his poor horse. Either way, ITTL the command in Italy goes to a Marshal of France instead of one of the king’s brash young cousins, and Lautrec seems as good a choice as any given that Maillebois, the man who was in Lautrec’s shoes IOTL, was indeed given command of the Italian army in 1745 (as Conti’s replacement).
[B] So goes the ATL version of the Battle of Toulon. ITTL, the engagement is similar but goes marginally worse for the British because of the weather. IOTL the battle was delayed for a week or so on account of wind, during which time the British were joined by an additional five ships of the line; moreover, foul wind kept the Gallispan fleet from reaching the Roadstead in a timely manner and allowed Mathews some time to escape, although because of conflicting signals and the treachery and/or ineptitude of Vice-Admiral Lestock the British made rather a hash of it and engaged only partially along the line. TTL's Toulon is bloodier, although it's still something of a draw - Court is too timid (and old, perhaps) to chase a superior foe, even a battered one, and Mathews fears being drawn away from the Italian coast. Accordingly, the Gallispans get a somewhat better opportunity to move ships to Italy; IOTL, they did indeed get to move a lot of supplies eastwards in Mathews' absence, but the attempt to land soldiers east of Villefranche was thwarted.
[C] This is a battle that, IOTL, never happened. The French indeed tried to invade Britain, but their covering fleet ran straight into Norris' squadron and almost certainly would have been smashed if not for a sudden gale that allowed the French to escape (albeit at the cost of many of the supply ships at Dunkirk, which were destroyed by the weather). ITTL, no gale saves the French, and they get their clocks cleaned as they undoubtedly would have IOTL. A poorer outcome for the British in the Mediterranean is thus balanced by a significantly better outcome in the Channel.
[D] Those of you paying close attention to this thread will have heard this name before, although not in any updates. Rivarola is the gentlemen who - chiefly on the advice of Horace Mann - the British and Sardinians decided to give command of the expatriate conquest of Corsica instead of Theodore in 1745. This was a profoundly stupid idea which backfired predictably. Rivarola was an arrogant, corrupt career bureaucrat with no military experience whatsoever. He "conquered" Bastia (actually the city surrendered to the British bombardment and Rivarola arrived a day later), but made himself so obnoxious to the people of
his own home city that they drove him out, and his disagreements with the National leaders (Gaffori, Matra, Venturini) actually started a civil war between his "Sardinian" faction and that of the triumvirate. Disgusted by the incompetence and fractiousness of the Corsicans, the British gave up and decided to turn their ships to more useful purposes, and so ended the best chance the Corsicans ever got to win independence from Genoa. Rivarola is still a rather dubious figure ITTL (and still just as arrogant), but at least he's not in a position of military command. Whether he ends up being merely an annoyance or an actual traitor (as he may well have been IOTL) remains to be seen.
