Great update! Really exciting to see Theodore finally living up to the expectations of the people who decided to put their trust on him... Thinking about it, that may be a first in his life.

Do you have an estimate of the total annual revenue of the island during peacetime? And of the oil cargo that was just delivered?
By the way, how short of the expected amount was it? And how much of that is due to the logistical delay rather than lack of produce?
 
Do you have an estimate of the total annual revenue of the island during peacetime? And of the oil cargo that was just delivered?
By the way, how short of the expected amount was it? And how much of that is due to the logistical delay rather than lack of produce?

Now you've done it; you've demanded numbers, and now you get to sit through logistics posting. :'(

Costa's assertion is that the annual Balagnese oil production was equal to 100,000 barrels and worth 5 million pounds, meaning his price assumption was £50 per barrel; that generally comports with prices in Britain at the time, as olive oil rose to around £60 per barrel by the end of the 1730s. Meanwhile, IOTL the syndicate allegedly sent supplies worth 400,000 florins and expected oil worth twice that amount - 800,000 Fl - in return. Presumably "florins" here means Dutch Guilders, which were commonly called florins. Based on some historical approximate exchange rates, 800,000 Fl is worth about £60,640. If we assume Costa's £50 price is correct (and it seems plausible), that's 1,212 barrels of oil. So one of your questions is answered - clearly even if Costa's 100,000 figure is exaggerated tenfold the amount the syndicate is demanding is well within Balagnese production figures (albeit annual production figures). Since supply isn't an issue, then, let's talk about logistics.

If we assume that a barrel actually means a barrel in the imperial system - as opposed to, say, a hogshead, tun, etc., which is by no means certain - then a barrel of olive oil weighs approximately 200 pounds (26.25 gallons per barrel at an approximate weight of 7.6 pounds per gallon), and the total weight of 1,212 barrels of olive oil would be about 242,200 pounds, or 121.2 short tons. That's well within the carrying capacity of a single Indiaman, and since olive oil is fairly dense I suspect space wouldn't be a problem, so at least the syndicate was being realistic about carrying capacity.

But remember, most of the cargo has to be carried overland from the Balagna to San Fiorenzo. A mule can reliably carry about 200-250 lbs over rough ground for significant distances, which equates to about one barrel per mule. Carts would make this easier, and it's possible that small mule carts were usable in the Agriate, although all roads in Corsica were rudimentary at best. I think a simple single-mule cart can probably carry 2-3 times the mule's own capacity, thus 2-3 barrels. Even if we assume that all deliveries were made with mule carts and take 3 barrels per cart as a liberal estimate, that's still 404 individual trips to be made over an approximately 30 mile distance (Google Maps tells me the walking route from Isola Rossa to San Fiorenzo is 28.2 miles, and claims you can walk it in about 10 hours). To take this to the next step you would have to know things like the availability of mules in Corsica in 1738, which I have no information on whatsoever, although mules were certainly not rare in Corsica - they pop up regularly in Theodore's tale as a means of carrying ammunition and guns and were clearly the dominant freight-carrying animal (Corsican horses were both few in number and generally considered rather poor specimens).

The other issue here is that there is no centralized system for gathering this oil. Theodore does not control a functioning state apparatus. Presumably there is a depot at Isola Rossa where "the government" (meaning Fabiani's men) stores oil for trade with smugglers, but there are no "state orchards" - all oil has to be procured from various private orchards across the region, and since Fabiani can't really pay he has to either "tax" growers or simply requisition their product, a time consuming and sometimes fraught task which requires his men to roam about the region finding people to cough up oil.

When it comes down to it, this is "ass-pulling" - I can't make a strong, evidence-based argument as to exactly how much oil Theodore could have gotten his hands on in this ahistorical situation, or how easily he could have transported it overland. If you were expecting If They Will Not Meet Us on the Open Sea tier logistics-posting, I'm afraid I will have to disappoint you. The decision I made was that while the sum demanded by the syndicate was plausible given what we know of Balagnese production, Theodore would come up somewhat short (but not abysmally so) given the short time frame and logistical demands on his largely notional state.

ITTL, I've decided that he paid at least half (that is, >500,000 Fl), and thus paid for the cargo itself, but whether the syndicate suffers a loss due to overhead costs or merely a diminished profit is not something I've really decided. Ultimately, I don't think it matters. Keelmann is going to report to the investors something like "well, it wasn't what we hoped for, but at least we didn't get fleeced." Whether or not the books show black or red ink, his mission has demonstrated that hundreds of barrels of olive oil can be procured in a relatively short amount of time, and thus Theodore's promises of bountiful oil aren't entirely smoke and mirrors. Furthermore, the investors are likely to conclude, perhaps correctly, that they would have been paid in full were it not for the interference of the French, which may convince them that the ultimate goal of the syndicate - to gain control of Corsican oil production by propping up an independent Corsica with Theodore at its head - will, when achieved, indeed yield the profits they have imagined.

As for the overall revenue of the island, as opposed to just Balagnese oil, I have no earthly idea. Presumably it depends on what's being taxed and at what rate, unless by "revenue" you mean gross export value, which is of course price-dependent. I'm aware of some French Revolution-era reports made on the value of Corsican forests in terms of lumber, which are probably reasonably accurate for the 1730s (I doubt the forests changed much in size over that time), but that's about it. Most reports on the value of Corsican exports that I've come across are much later, i.e. the late 19th century.
 
Last edited:
Regarding revenue, I remembered a source claiming that under Ancien Régime France the island's annual tax revenue was 600,000 livres. Nevertheless, the island was a net drain on France, costing more to administer than it paid back to the treasury, and a particular drain when one considers that the cost of the conquest was 18-30 million livres (sources seem to disagree). That means that even if administrative costs had been zero, it would have taken 30-50 years for the island to pay back in taxes what the government had spent acquiring it. The acquisition was less than worthless economically, and not even very useful strategically, as the power of the British Navy by the end of the 18th century was such that whether or not Corsica was French or pro-British wasn't all that consequential.

The 600,000 figure probably represents relatively low levels of taxation gathered inefficiently in a time of stagnated productivity. During its few decades of rule over Corsica the Ancien Régime never made much of an effort at development, and what "reforms" were halfheartedly attempted (like an attempt to replace chestnut culture with cereal cultivation) were frequently scuttled by resistance from uncooperative Corsicans. There's an apocryphal story about a French nobleman who couldn't understand why the Corsicans resented them, since taxes were twice as high under Paoli's government as they were under the French: "Yes," the Corsican replied, "but then, we gave; now, you take."

Presumably, an independent Corsica is at least slightly better off in that the government, however poor it might be, is incentivized to actually invest in Corsica. Taxes will likely be higher than under France, just as they were under Paoli IOTL, because the Corsican government doesn't have other rich provinces to subsidize its administration, but even so government programs and exactions are less likely to meet with resentment and resistance because they are not perceived as the whims of a foreign conqueror. Theodore may be a foreigner, but at least he's not siphoning off the tax revenue to a royal court in Westphalia.
 
Last edited:
Regarding revenue, I remembered a source claiming that under Ancien Régime France the island's annual tax revenue was 600,000 livres. Nevertheless, the island was a net drain on France, costing more to administer than it paid back to the treasury, and a particular drain when one considers that the cost of the conquest was 18-30 million livres (sources seem to disagree). That means that even if administrative costs had been zero, it would have taken 30-50 years for the island to pay back in taxes what the government had spent acquiring it. The acquisition was less than worthless economically, and not even very useful strategically, as the power of the British Navy by the end of the 18th century was such that whether or not Corsica was French or pro-British wasn't all that consequential.

The 600,000 figure probably represents relatively low levels of taxation gathered inefficiently in a time of stagnated productivity. During its few decades of rule over Corsica the Ancien Régime never made much of an effort at development, and what "reforms" were halfheartedly attempted (like an attempt to replace chestnut culture with cereal cultivation) were frequently scuttled by resistance from uncooperative Corsicans. There's an apocryphal story about a French nobleman who couldn't understand why the Corsicans resented them, since taxes were twice as high under Paoli's government as they were under the French: "Yes," the Corsican replied, "but then, we gave; now, you take."

Presumably, an independent Corsica is at least slightly better off in that the government, however poor it might be, is incentivized to actually invest in Corsica. Taxes will likely be higher than under France, just as they were under Paoli IOTL, because the Corsican government doesn't have other rich provinces to subsidize its administration, but even so government programs and exactions are less likely to meet with resentment and resistance because they are not perceived as the whims of a foreign conqueror. Theodore may be a foreigner, but at least he's not siphoning off the tax revenue to a royal court in Westphalia.

I don't necessary think that taxes will be higher, for one Theodore's position are weaker, but also he doesn't need to occupy the island (he need a royal guard and a small navy). So he need fewer money. But a major benefit for Theodore are that he can push local investments, which increase his own income. Draining the swamps in the malaria area, you mentioned earlier. Invest in mining and fishing, set up tariffs on foreign goods etc. I think it's there his potential income lies, more than taxing the Corsicans. If he can convince the Corsicans to let Jews settle on the islands, they're also a good source of income (he can use the model of letting them settle in a few free cities as a start), the Jews would bring in capital and connections across the diaspora.
 
Investment is good, but you need capital to do it. Since there's basically no private capital of any significance in Corsica - it's a very flat society, economically speaking - investments can only be made by relying on foreign capital (which, as we will see with the Dutch, always comes with strings attached) or by government spending funded by taxes.

One interesting related question is what, if anything, becomes "royal property." The actual real estate owned by Theodore is presently nothing; his "palace" in Cervioni is just the house of the local bishop who fled during the rebellion, and in Vescovato he resides in a vacant abbey. Other monarchs possess estates, both to live in and to derive income from, but Theodore is literally homeless; he doesn't even own property back in Westphalia, let alone in Corsica. There's a fair amount of land in Corsica that's likely to be expropriated - fiefs of Genoese noble families as well as ecclesiastical lands (there are presently no bishops on the whole island, as they were all Genoese). If Theodore manages to get a hold of some of it as "crown lands" that would no doubt be helpful, although the ecclesiastical fiefs may cause problems, being only one of many heated issues that are likely to pop up between Corsica and Rome.

So far there's been a lot of optimism about "free Corsica," but it's worth bearing in mind that the island could very easily become a failed state. America had a long and vital tradition of local democracy and civil society before its revolution, and as such their government, while certainly innovative, built off a system that already existed. Corsica's "civil society," in contrast, has been actively repressed by the Genoese for centuries. The island has no printing presses and no newspapers, no tradition of local governance aside from informal bodies of clan elders, and no tradition of constitutional government. The Corsicans were always extremely fractious; Paoli's republic was fairly united, but that was only accomplished by a often-unmentioned civil war, and unity is always easier to achieve when you're in a state of perpetual siege. Certainly Paoli didn't go out of his way to let the flower of democracy bloom in his virtually dictatorial state. The hard part is what happens after you win, and have to make a functioning society from scratch.
 
Last edited:
Revolutionaries are always sexier the night before victory!

I wonder whether France will lodge some formal protest in Amsterdam against the syndicate actions... I am really looking forward to poor old Charles' death!
 
Madonna della Serra
Madonna della Serra

oJmGQbv.jpg

The chapel of Madonna della Serra above Calvi

"The Corsicans are a people as brave and stout-hearted as these English: they will be overcome, I believe, only by prudence and kindness. To maintain the sovereignty of this island, it appears to me to be essential to disarm the inhabitants, and to soften their manners... one can see from the example of the Corsicans, whose courage and virtue gives to the men their love of freedom, that it is dangerous and unjust to oppress."

- King Frederick II of Prussia, Anti-Machiavel, 1740 [A]


Even after the humiliating blow the Corsicans dealt to the French occupying forces during the week-long "Corsican Vespers," Theodore did not abandon the pretense at diplomatic conciliation. Within days of the bloody French retreat from Calenzana he sent an apologetic letter to Versailles by way of Lieutenant-General Louis de Frétat de Boissieux. He regretted, he wrote, the recent bloodshed, and claimed that there was still great love for France and her king among the Corsicans. He blamed the Genoese and their scheming negotiators at Versailles for misleading the French into crafting terms which were hateful to the Corsicans and had excited them to "intemperate action." He asked humbly for renewed French mediation, albeit with Corsican delegates at the table this time, and for the time being blithely "authorized" the French to remain in the positions which the Genoese had ceded to them in order to keep the peace.

It was inconceivable that the French, upon suffering hundreds of dead or wounded to Corsican arms, would subsequently reward the rebels by inviting their delegates to Fontainebleau, and Theodore presumably knew this. Indeed, Theodore was playing a game he had played before with Boissieux and would continue to resort to the rest of his life, in which he posed as the "reasonable" counterpart to the popular will as represented by the consulta or the Diet. Frequently, when an action had to be taken which was deleterious to the relations of Corsica with another power, Theodore would allow or encourage it to happen and then send his earnest regrets to the aggrieved party, claiming that he would have done otherwise had the "nation" not been so forceful. In a sense he was playing off the common stereotype of his own subjects as hot-blooded, violent, and impulsive; he was the lone civilized man on an island of savages, the only adult in a room full of truculent children, and that a refined German nobleman would struggle to control such a people had a certain intuitive sensibility to it in the continental mind.

For the moment, however, no amount of soothing words or diplomatic maneuvering could stop events that had been set in motion. Boissieux had been personally humiliated by the uprising; after nine months on Corsica, he had nothing to show for it but failed negotiations and dead Frenchmen, and Mari's constant complaints about Boissieux's inactivity were starting to find more receptive ears at Versailles. Although he was sympathetic to the Corsican cause, Boissieux was a French officer first and foremost, and needed to take strong measures to restore French honor and save his own career.

Boissieux's strongest force was with him in Calvi, but his maneuvers there were severely restricted. After the French defeat at Calenzana, the Corsicans had occupied the mountains above Calvi, and very soon a Moor's Head flag could be seen at the chapel of Madonna della Serra only a mile and a half from the citadel of Calvi. Standing upon a range of granite hills within extreme artillery range of parts of the town, it was the ideal command post from which to direct a siege. The chapel seems to have been occupied spontaneously, but within days the rebels there had been reinforced by a company of militia under Captain Paolo-Maria Paoli, one of the lieutenants of Captain-General Marquis Simone Fabiani, and they would not be the last to arrive.

Fabiani had not started the Third Battle of Calenzana, but he had seen to its conclusion, arriving on the scene by the third day with the Balagnese militia. He had effectively assumed command of all rebel forces in the vicinity, as was arguably his prerogative as governor of the Balagna, vice-president of the war council, and the highest ranking military officer in the kingdom.[1] In the wake of the Vespers, however, he had fallen out with Theodore over strategy. Fabiani wished to take the initiative and drive Boissieux and Mari into the sea; now, he argued, the rebels had the men, the money, the weaponry, and most importantly the will to invest the town and bombard it into submission. Calvi was a nest of filogenovesi; nothing would be lost by flattening it. Delay would only allow the French time to recover and reinforce their position.

Theodore, as mentioned, had only just sent a letter to Versailles authorizing the French garrisons to remain in place. It was hardly consistent to begin bombarding them. Although the king had boasted of his willingness to face any enemy and spoke proudly of the "victories" of the Vespers, he privately feared that the uprising had only enraged the French and prematurely pushed them from passive peacekeeping into active hostility. He had no desire to antagonize Boissieux further. But his position was precarious, for he could also not afford to be seen as weak, or worse yet pro-French; his prime minister, Marquis Luigi Giafferi, had only just published an edict against "traitors to the nation" which promised swift and pitiless justice to those who abetted foreign occupiers, whether Genoese or French. Neither could he afford to alienate Fabiani, who was in effective control of rebel forces in the northwest and one of his most able generals.

Theodore felt he could do little but let Fabiani pursue his own strategy. The king, however, did not endorse it himself, and his assistance to Fabiani was limited. The general's troops were provided with muskets, powder, and shot from the syndicate armory, but crucially Theodore withheld his artillery, citing the difficulties of moving large guns overland across the Agriate and Balagna. Nor did his regular forces, the Guard and the Foreign Regiment, take part, although his chief engineer and artillery officer Major Antone Nobile Battisti was present for at least part of the siege.

Although set back on his heels by the uprising, Boissieux still had a formidable force of 1,200-1,300 battle-ready French infantry at Calvi. Had he acted quickly, when the force at Madonna della Serra consisted of a few hundred irregulars, he might have pre-empted Fabiani's arrival. He hesitated to attack, however, as he had no reliable information on the numbers or disposition of the enemy. By the time the French made an attempt on the hills on the 8th of November, Fabiani and his militia had already been present and preparing their position for several days. The rebels had no artillery, but neither did the French. The initial French attack on the 8th, made by around 400 men, made good initial progress and took the western end of the ridge within 400 yards of the chapel. They found themselves heavily outnumbered, however, and were prevented from moving on the chapel itself by the danger of being flanked from the south. Boissieux sent his first communique to the rebels since the Vespers, demanding that they withdraw from the ridge and cease menacing the town or face imminent battle; Fabiani refused, and instead suggested that Boissieux consider honorable terms of a French surrender.

That suggestion was premature. Boissieux was not afraid to launch an assault; he was merely preparing for it. The probing attack had found that the "chapel," atop a granite outcrop and surrounded by a thick wall, was really more of a small redoubt than a church, and Boissieux had asked Giovanni-Battista de Mari to be able to requisition Genoese artillery to assist in its capture. In a rare moment of cooperation borne of mutual interest, the Commissioner-General had agreed, although his supply was not great; most of the citadel's guns were large garrison pieces which were not only too large to be practical but had no field carriages anyway, limiting the French to a handful of relatively light guns whose purpose had been to sweep the landward approach to the citadel with grapeshot.

2w3MesW.png

French Grenadier of the Auvergne regiment c. 1750

The French launched their second attack on the 12th, sending around 600 men led by two companies of Auvergne grenadiers. They found resistance much stronger than it had been on the 8th, with a heavy musket-fire issuing from behind the cover of thickly-strewn granite boulders. The difficult approach tended to funnel the attackers together, making them even easier targets. Covering fire from the French artillery was devastating to the chapel, which was heavily damaged, but it was only modestly effective at suppressing the fire from the dispersed defenders. Still the unflinching grenadiers and much of the rest of the first wave behind them succeeded in ascending the hill and reaching the walls of the chapel. The "crest" of the hill, however, was something of a shallow bowl, with a second ridge behind the first. Here the Corsicans had made a fallback position and subjected the French to a murderous crossfire. Worse still, the French artillery had no line of sight on this second ridge and could no longer support the attack. The first wave soon retreated. A second wave did only marginally better, contesting the top of the hill with the rebels for some time, but was forced back by the more numerous militiamen. A simultaneous attempt to flank the defenders' position by way of a seaside trail with four fusilier companies was bogged down by rebel sharpshooters, and failed to make progress in a timely enough manner to help the main attack.

The French had made an honorable showing considering that they were assaulting a larger force in an elevated, prepared position without artillery support, but their efforts were not enough to dislodge the royalist militia, and the French had been mauled in the process. A French apothecary (medical officer) present, who kept an extensive journal of the campaign, recorded 86 dead and 177 wounded; Fabiani reported to Theodore that the Corsicans had lost only 36 men with around 80 wounded. For the time being, Boissieux made no further attempt at the rebel overlook. It was not long before Fabiani, against Theodore's wishes, brought two 12-pounder iron guns to the summit which he had possessed during the siege of Algajola. It was not possible to strike the citadel itself, but he could lay shot rather indiscriminately into the outskirts of the town, where the French soldiers were garrisoned because the Genoese refused to allow them into the citadel. That only sunk French morale further, which suffered from both defeat and idleness through the winter, and there were fights reported between the French and the Genoese garrison.

Not all was bad news for the French. The situation in the south near Ajaccio was more fluid, and the French commander there succeeded with a ruse de guerre against the Corsicans: Noting that the rebels had no uniforms, he procured Corsican costumes and dressed his men in them, and in this guise launched a surprise attack that resulted in more than a hundred militiamen killed or captured including two rebel captains. French gains there, however, were only slight; with two battalions it was not possible to either defeat the forces of Lieutenant-General Marquis Luca d'Ornano in the field or hold much territory against him. At Porto Vecchio, raids and counter-raids continued, and the French companies there did little but to make the Genoese feel freer to range further afield with their punitive strikes, which they felt quite free to do now that the truce had fallen apart.

Whether or not the Corsicans could have seriously threatened the French position at Calvi that winter is uncertain. Theodore never committed his artillery to find out. In his defense, however, the time to accomplish this was limited, it was now winter with all the attendant difficulties of the season, and Fabiani did not control a position which could either directly threaten the citadel or cut off its resupply by sea. At least the victory was a boost to the morale of the Corsicans, who could now claim that they had defeated the vaunted French army even without the benefit of surprise. The celebration was understandable, but premature, for soon they would face a mightier force. The Battle of Madonna della Serra convinced Boissieux that the island simply could not be reduced with the forces available to him, and certainly not without better artillery support. The "second wave" of French troops which would arrive on the island in January of 1739 included four more infantry battalions, one each of the regiments of Flanders, Béarn, Cambrésis, and Agenois, as well as several companies of the 1st and 3rd battalions of the Royal Corps of Artillery, bringing the nominal strength of the French force to around 5,500 men.


Footnotes
[1] While Fabiani did not have authority over generals in other theaters, he was the only person during the revolution whom Theodore gave the rank of Captain-General.

Timeline Notes
[A] A real quote, and an example of how widely known and commented on the Corsican revolt was at this time. Although the Anti-Machiavel was published in 1740, Frederick finished it by late 1739, so he was writing this as the French intervention was still ongoing and before Maillebois had completed the island's pacification. When he says "these English" in this quote, he means the ancient Britons, as he discusses their resistance to Roman rule in the previous paragraph.
 
Last edited:
Just checking -- this is October of 1738, right?

November of 1738. The consulta rejecting the terms of Fontainebleau met on October 13th, the "Vespers" began around October 23rd and ended around the time of the French withdrawal from Calenzana on the 28th. The French made their first attack against Madonna della Serra on the 8th of November and their second attack (both waves) on the 12th.

Edit: Which means we're just under two years until C-day (that is, when Charles dies historically).
 
Last edited:
That chapel looks very difficult to assault, especially without proper artillery.

I think that that battle shows that the French probably need at least ten times the soldiers they have. As hostile occupiers the force ratios they have are simply not in their favor. It seems they're succumbing to that old trap of halfheartedly committing and then being slowly dragged into a quagmire - when a single forceful campaign on a massive scale could probably conquer the island in a few weeks, given the weakness of the Corsican "state."

I mean I see why they don't do that - the political realities get in the way - but militarily this sort of half-assed support seems almost worthless, especially given that Genoa seems utterly broken.
 
I mean I see why they don't do that - the political realities get in the way - but militarily this sort of half-assed support seems almost worthless, especially given that Genoa seems utterly broken.

At this rate, I'm suspecting this to drag on throughout 1739 and 1740.

And then Emperor Charles will ruin everything by dying. (Well, and the Brits will start ruining things earlier by starting a war over Jenkins Ear, but that will take some time for France to really care about it...)
 
That chapel looks very difficult to assault, especially without proper artillery.

In fact Madonna Della Serra was destroyed during the occupation, albeit in 1740; I have not yet found details on how. That picture is of the rebuilt chapel. It's not a star fort or anything, but for this sort of small action it's a useful strong point.

It seems they're succumbing to that old trap of halfheartedly committing and then being slowly dragged into a quagmire - when a single forceful campaign on a massive scale could probably conquer the island in a few weeks, given the weakness of the Corsican "state."

I mean I see why they don't do that - the political realities get in the way - but militarily this sort of half-assed support seems almost worthless, especially given that Genoa seems utterly broken.

Indeed. With ~10,000 men, Maillebois famously managed it in three weeks in early 1739, although the last guerrillas under Theodore's nephews didn't surrender for more than a year. The rebels ITTL also control more territory and are better armed. 10,000 was also roughly the size of the imperial force in 1734, but they "won" by convincing the rebels to negotiate rather than by conquering the whole island.

Against Paoli's republic, which was better organized, the French fielded nearly 30,000 men including 45 infantry battalions (compared to Boissieux's initial six), and lost about 10,000 of them to enemy action and disease. Paoli had no more than 12,000, the vast majority of whom were militia (the entire "regular army" of the republic was about 500 men IIRC). It's no surprise they got crushed.

The Genoese are fairly useless. Their forces on the island are less than 2,000 men, morale is at rock-bottom, Mari refuses to engage because that's what the French are for, and the other commanders don't want to do anything which might risk them being disgraced like Marchelli. At this point their offensive actions are mainly limited to livestock rustling and burning the occasional undefended village.
 
Last edited:
Taking Sides
Taking Sides

For all the Corsicans, even in the fortify'd Places, only look out for an Opportunity to shake off the Genoese Yoak; and all People of the best Sense, considering the Situation of the Country, and the untractable Temper of the Natives, who are for that Reason call'd The Devils of Corsica, think it will be a difficult Task to reduce them.

- The Pennsylvania Gazette, October 1738[A]


The French chief minister Cardinal André-Hercule de Fleury had no doubts as to how France needed to respond to the assaults and provocations of the rebels. In December, Boissieux received a letter from the minister informing him of the reinforcements already gathering in Antibes and added that the honor of France demanded that the actions of the Corsicans at Calenzana and elsewhere "do not go unpunished." The overall mission, however, remained unchanged, despite the repeated advice of Ambassador Jacques Campredon that the government should use the opportunity to conquer the island for itself. That was the deepest fear of the Genoese Commissioner-General Giovanni-Battista de Mari, but there was no real reason to worry. France had signed a treaty with the Emperor stipulating "that they will never suffer the Island of Corsica, under any Pretence whatsoever, to depart from the Government of the Republic of Genoa," and Fleury fully intended to honor it.

The other object of French ire was the Dutch Republic, which Fleury blamed for stiffening the resistance of the Corsicans and indirectly causing French blood to be spilled. The Spanish flag flown by Captain Pierre Keelmann had not fooled anyone, and the French ambassador Gabriel-Jacques de Salignac, Marquis de Fénelon, delivered a bitter letter of protest to the States General. "The Republic cannot now disagree," wrote Fénelon, "that such a proceeding and the impunity with which it was conducted would show little regard for the King and the friendship of His Majesty." The Dutch ambassador in Paris, Van Hoëy, was likewise summoned to hear the remonstrations of Paris. Until now the States General had received only the protests of the Genoese, which it had arrogantly dismissed, but France had to be handled more delicately.

The Dutch denied any contact with or support for Theodore, but in a statement to Fénelon the government questioned what business it was of France in the first place. If, the Dutch promised, there was a declared state of war between France and "the Corsicans," they would certainly not allow their nationals to support the enemies of His Most Christian Majesty with arms, but it appeared to them that this was not the case. It was a rather staggering claim, for it looked rather like de facto recognition of the Corsican state (if not Theodore explicitly) by the United Provinces—after all, one could not declare war on that which was not in some sense sovereign. Such a declaration would never come from France—it would enrage the Genoese, who would not abide such implied legitimacy for the rebel movement, but more importantly it would undermine the entire premise of the French intervention, to wit, the suppression of unlawful rebellion and the restoration of order to Genoese territory.

France was not to be outplayed by mere rhetorical tricks, and there were limits to how far the Dutch government was willing to go for the sake of a single private trading company. In February of 1739 the French succeeded in pressuring the States General to ban their citizens from having any commerce with the Corsican rebels. It had very little immediate impact on the syndicate, which even before Keelmann's somewhat disappointing report had been disposed to let the matter play out for a while and see how Theodore did with the vast armory they had sold him. Actually, one ship was sailing from Amsterdam with arms for the Corsicans at the very moment the agreement was published, but it was unlikely to be a liability to the Dutch government. Firstly, although probably financed in part by the syndicate it was formally the endeavor of Theodore's "nephew" Matthias von Drost, who was not a Dutch citizen; and secondly, Drost's plan did not involve sailing directly to Corsica, but taking his cargo to Livorno and smuggling it to the island in the traditional manner with small craft. In any case, it would eventually become clear that the States General had no intention of enforcing their pledge in a serious manner, and it is doubtful that this French "diplomatic success" meaningfully changed the course of the revolution.

December was to be the calm before the storm. Mountain snows kept many of the highland militias at home, the French reinforcements would not arrive until the following month, and Boissieux himself was taken ill for a time. In the Nebbio, Theodore did his best to prepare for what seemed likely to be a very serious fight. Attempts were made to revitalize the rather poorly implemented militia system, including shortening the time of rotation and requiring militia battalions to muster regularly at certain locations if they wished to receive munitions and pay for their officers. The "Royal Guard," finding a new glut of recruits, expanded to a nominal strength of 600 men in ten companies, and its name was changed to the "Corsican Guard" (Guardia Corsa), possibly to give it a more patriotic feel or to distinguish it from the Germanic Leibgarde (or Guardia del Corpo) which actually protected the person of the king.[1] Present too in the Nebbio was the Foreign Regiment (Reggimento Straniero), which had been placed under the overall command of Lieutenant-Colonel Karl Christian Drevitz, a former infantry officer of the little army of the Electorate of Cologne. He was only one of at least two dozen such "Colonesi" veterans who served Theodore—Cologne was the king's birthplace—and uniquely for foreign volunteers in Corsica, most of them seem to have continued to wear their blue Electoral uniforms in Corsican service, which was just as well since the king's green uniforms were in short supply.[B]

The dividends of the Vespers were not limited to guard recruitment. Despite Theodore's apprehensions about provoking the French, the outbreak of hostilities had an immediate effect on the "national consciousness." A new wave of patriotism swept the country, and although this ardor was really more for Corsica than its foreign king, Theodore could not help but be identified with the new spirit of resistance and he and his ministers made every effort to ensure it was so. Just like his landing in 1736, as if by magic, he had appeared in the nick of time with arms and supplies to secure the people's liberty, and his stately presence at the consulta left no doubt that regardless of what his actual sway over the islanders was his face and his name were clearly identified with the cause. Although it probably made Theodore flinch, as he was still trying in vain to smooth tensions with Boissieux, Costa wrote that the warcry of the rebels at Calenzana had been "Morte ài Francesi, Evvivu u Re" - Death to the French, Long Live the King.

Another salutary effect of this nationalist fervor was the total collapse of the indifferenti movement. The "indifferents" had long maintained that they were patriots, just not "Teodoresi;" they desired a Corsica free of both Genoa and the Baron Neuhoff. Accordingly, when the French had first arrived on the island, Ignazio Arrighi and the other indifferenti leaders had practically flung themselves at Boissieux. It seemed to be the moment they had been waiting for; a foreign power had arrived to take control of the island in opposition to both the tyrannical Genoa and the charlatan Theodore. Although now frequently depicted as treachery, the idea that French rule would be welcome alternative to that of Genoa had been a fairly uncontroversial stance earlier in the rebellion. Theodore's own prime minister, Luigi Giafferi, had been a leading member of the "pro-French" faction encouraged by Campredon prior to Theodore's arrival, and Theodore's deputies themselves had recently floated the idea of Corsica becoming a subject principality to the Bourbons.

At the very same time that Boissieux had been meeting with Theodore's emissaries, he had also been exchanging letters with Arrighi, who had assured the general of his support. He was to regret it, for having fully and prematurely committed themselves to the French cause the leaders of the indifferenti found the rug pulled out from under them when Boissieux made it abundantly clear that French power had come only to restore Genoese rule. For a time, Arrighi seems to have pretended this was not the case and petitioned Boissieux to encourage Versailles towards another policy (precisely what Theodore was doing at the same time). His hope of a French alternative was dashed to pieces, however, when the terms of Fontainebleau were made public. His vocally pro-French record now put him in the position of appearing to be a Genoese collaborator, and since the indifferenti had boycotted the consulta of Corti due to Theodore's presence there was nobody to speak in his favor when he, Father Giovanni Aitelli, and other indifferenti leaders were denounced by the consulta of Corti as traitors to the nation.

The leaders of the indifferenti turned to Boissieux for succor, but after the Vespers the general was not in a welcoming mood. He received their entreaties coldly, rejecting their clumsy attempts at re-negotiating the French position and making the same demand of them that he made of the other rebels: surrender your arms and submit to Genoese rule. Arrighi resisted, pleading that it was madness to disarm in the face of hostility from "the Baron's men," but Boissieux was unrelenting, and informed him that unless he and his militias surrendered their weapons to the French they would be treated as any other rebels. Arrighi, feeling his had no choice, caved to this demand, but immediately thereafter the royalist Marquis Luca d'Ornano published a decree countermanding Arrighi and offering his own ultimatum: all men of Vico had five days to come to the village of Guagno, with their arms, to surrender and pledge loyalty to the King, or be declared traitors to the nation in absentia. It was the last straw for Arrighi's authority, and he abandoned Vico for fear of being turned over to the royalists. Arrighi's last hope, that the French would establish control in the northwest first and rescue him from d'Ornano, was crushed when the French were defeated at Madonna della Serra.

Spurned by the French, abandoned by many of the locals, and pressed by vastly more numerous and better-armed royalist forces, Arrighi, Aitelli, and a handful of other indifferenti leaders surrendered themselves to the French.[2] Boissieux magnanimously offered them safe passage into exile as an alternative to Genoese "justice." All of them accepted. While this was hardly the end of anti-Theodore sentiment in Corsica, the indifferenti as a semi-cohesive, territory-holding faction had completely ceased to exist by the end of 1738. The Corsicans, or at least their leaders, were now in the main either realisti or filogenovesi.



Corsica at the beginning of 1739 (Click to enlarge)
Green: Royalist territory
Red: Genoese territory
Blue: French or joint Franco-Genoese occupation
Blue striped: French-held territory abandoned during the Vespers
White: Unknown, contested, or neutral



Footnotes
[1] Sometimes called the Royal Corsican Guard (Guardia Corsa Reale) to distinguish them from the 17th century Corsican Guard of the Popes (Guardia Corsa Papale).
[2] Presumably either by boat to Calvi or overland to Ajaccio, as the royalist blockade of Calvi made a land approach to Boissieux's headquarters impossible.

Timeline Notes
[A] Benjamin Franklin's newspaper. The quote is lifted largely from a real quote regarding the Corsicans in the Gazette. Notably, the paper also printed an abridged list of the manifest of the syndicate fleet, claiming 24 guns and 9,000 muskets. In case you were wondering, it records the bombes de bois as "wooden shells."
[B] Drevitz is not fictional, but he is something of a partly-fictionalized or composite character. A certain Lieutentant-Colonel Drevitz indeed served in Corsica and was one of the rebel leaders who IOTL defeated Marchelli at Isola Rossa in 1738, and Germans wearing the uniforms of Electoral Cologne indeed showed up among the Corsican rebels around this time. There is no evidence that Drevitz was one of these men of Cologne, but it seems plausible. A number of Germans in rebel service pop up in these years, including a certain German drummer who was evidently chosen as one of the rebels' emissaries to a French commander. Most of them were probably there because of Theodore, either on account of a preexisting acquaintance with the king or his "nephews" or because they had been hired in Amsterdam or thereabouts by Theodore or Drost. "Karl Christian" is a random fabrication, as Drevitz's given name is not recorded.
 
Last edited:
Will the next update mention the Convention of Pardo (to set up the breakout of hostilities between Britain and Spain later in the year)?

EDIT ADD: Another thought -- didn't France, by way of Villeneuve, play a mediator role in ending the Russo-Turkish War (1735-39)? If so might this little military expedition on France's part have implications for the Treaty of Belgrade?
 
Last edited:
Will the next update mention the Convention of Pardo (to set up the breakout of hostilities between Britain and Spain later in the year)?

I wasn't really planning on it - my understanding of the War of Jenkins' Ear is that it was a colonial war which was of little import on the continent. Neither Spain nor Britain are even peripheral participants in the Corsican war, although it's possible Elisabeth Farnese might become more involved in Corsican affairs. Theodore was, after all, once a member of her court who married one of her ladies in waiting, and IOTL there was some speculation she was interested in obtaining Corsica for her son Philip, later Duke of Parma, presumably so as to make him a king (the same reason that Charles of Lorraine wanted it - Tuscany and Parma were "mere" duchies, but it was accepted that Corsica was a kingdom despite being much less splendid than those other principalities).

I suppose you could argue that a poorer showing of the French in Corsica might make the British feel slightly less worried about French intervention in the WoJE on behalf of Spain, and thus be a little more aggressive against the Spanish in Florida or something, but I doubt it would make any significant difference. In any case, the WoJE will still be subsumed in and decided by the larger WoAS in a few years.

EDIT ADD: Another thought -- didn't France, by way of Villeneuve, play a mediator role in ending the Russo-Turkish War (1735-39)? If so might this little military expedition on France's part have implications for the Treaty of Belgrade?

Hmm... My impression is that Villeneuve's position at the Porte, and France's position as a treaty guarantor, are unlikely to be affected by a few French military setbacks in Corsica. The 1739 French campaign in Corsica will be tougher than OTL (spoiler alert!) but we're not going to see some sort of improbable Corsican Cannae in which thousands of French troops are obliterated; Corsican "success" is likely to take the form of the grinding attrition of a guerrilla war, which may be an unwelcome ulcer for Louis XV but won't be a serious blow to the military reputation of France.

Theodore did have a very tenuous connection to the Ottomans, having visited Constantinople in the lead up to his arrival, but there's no evidence he received anything from the Sultan or his government, aside from possibly a vague and never-fulfilled offer to send some Turkish and/or Albanian settlers. I can see Villeneuve mentioning "hey we'd rather you have nothing to do with this Theodore fellow" in passing, but I doubt it would lead to anything more than that.

That said, as I've admitted many times I'm not a 18th century expert, and if there's a way in which this alternate TL in Corsica would affect Belgrade or otherwise change larger European politics/history I'm very happy to hear it.
 
Extra: A Closeup of Madonna della Serra
A Closeup of Madonna della Serra

Hey, not really an update here so much as a look at what I visualized for the Battle of Madonna della Serra, a.k.a. "the Corsican Bunker Hill where they actually win."

All pictures are expandable.



A drone's eye view of the chapel, looking south, giving you a sense of the compound layout. The granite rise behind the chapel is part of the "second ridge" from which the defenders would have rallied and repelled the French attack. The distance from the top of that ridge to the chapel is about 250 yards. That's rather long range for a smoothbore musket, but still at the range where lethal wounds could be inflicted, and though the Corsicans were not good at Frederician-style line combat they were said to be good shots. Entrance to the chapel can only be obtained by the stairs around the back (the south side), which would thus be in the field of fire of the second ridge.

While this is not the chapel that existed in 1738, as it was destroyed during the French intervention, the old chapel occupied the same location. The very fact that it was destroyed "during a siege" in 1740 suggests that even in its original form it was of strategic value, otherwise presumably there would have been no reason to destroy/bombard it.



Another drone shot, but looking north this time. Calvi and its citadel are plainly visible, giving you a sense of the proximity of the rebel position to the town. This view also shows the French path of advance, a shrub-covered slope funneled directly towards the chapel-redoubt which is largely treeless once you get within 300 yards of the chapel.




Okay, okay, this one is just scenery porn, so sue me. A very nice picture of the chapel, showing the access stair at the back, with the Corsican mountains in the background.


Overall, I'd say that if this is the only thing anyone's got to complain about, you're doing a damn fine job, sir.

Fixed, and thanks very much!
 
Last edited:
Second Wave
Second Wave

DumrYl6.jpg

A French 8-inch bronze mortar, mid 18th century


The French had evidently learned nothing from the mishap suffered by their fleet in the previous year, when an attempt to land soldiers on Corsica in February fell afoul of the notoriously rough winter seas. At least in 1738 the ships had been merely scattered and delayed, and since Lieutenant-General Louis de Frétat de Boissieux had not intended to immediately lead them into action this delay did not greatly trouble him. In 1739, however, the landing was attempted even earlier, in early January, and once again a storm scattered the convoy. For most of the fleet, the disruption was minimal. Six companies of the Cambrais regiment, however, had a very different experience when their ships were blown off course to the east.

Four companies were wrecked near Ogliastro, seven miles east along the coast from Isola Rossa, and two more were blown clear into the Bay of San Fiorenzo. Those at Ogliastro were swiftly surrounded by the Balagnese militia, while the pair of tartanes which had blown into the bay were snapped up by the royalist warship Madonna del Rosario, the captured Genoese galley which had featured in the siege of San Fiorenzo and had served as a rebel patrol craft in the bay since.[1] In total, the rebels captured around 200 Frenchmen without losing a man, amounting to more than a third of the entire Cambrais regiment. The regimental staff was not on the transports which were captured, but the rebels took a number of company officers including five captains.

To capitalize on this unexpected windfall, Theodore sent a message to Boissieux proposing that the prisoners be exchanged for Corsicans in French custody. Most of these were militiamen captured near Ajaccio during and after the Vespers, but Theodore also sought the return of the eight hostages which had volunteered to go into captivity in Toulon as a guarantee of the cease-fire. The French had treated them well at first, but after the Vespers the government considered the Corsicans to have breached their promise. The eight hostages, including the sons of Chancellor Sebastiano Costa and Marquis Saviero Matra, were arrested and taken to Marseilles, where they were first imprisoned in Fort St. Nicolas and later moved to the Chateau d'If.[A] Numerically it was an advantageous trade for the French and Boissieux was willing to entertain it, but his government refused. Boissieux proposed instead a more limited trade of French soldiers for the rebels captured at Ajaccio, but Theodore declined, that would entail trading French officers for ordinary rebel militiamen. Theodore instead informed Boissieux that the prisoners would remain in captivity until the hostages were released from the Chateau d'If, and added that the treatment of the French soldiers and officers would be commensurate with the welfare of those hostages.[2]

Notwithstanding the loss of the Cambrais companies, Boissieux's position had still been reinforced by around 800 infantrymen plus a company of artillery. His first priority was breaking the rebel siege. On the 20th of January, he began a bombardment of the rebel position with his new artillery. The rebels quickly abandoned the military crest, but as before could easily withdraw to the summit of the hill where Boissieux's French guns were no more able to reach them than the Genoese pieces before. This left only indirect shell-fire from the French 8-inch mortars. While the mortar fire was inaccurate and does not appear to have caused many casualties, it unnerved the Corsicans, none of whom had ever experienced being shelled before.[3]

While the rebel withdrawal to the summit protected their force, it also limited their visibility and prevented them from firing back with their two 12-pounder guns. Boissieux ordered Lieutenant-Colonel Jean de Sanhard de Sasselange and two battalions to move east along the Calvi beach and then turn inland in an attempt to work around and cut off the rebel position. The royalist commander Colonel Guiliani di Muro had not strongly defended this flank, and even as Sasselange advanced he resisted reinforcing it, still expecting the major French attack to come from his front. After an argument with di Muro, Captain Paolo-Maria Paoli defied his orders and led at least a hundred men to oppose Sasselange, but they could not prevent the French from taking the ridge. Now Boissieux pressed home his attack, and with the French to both their south and north the Corsicans fled eastwards down the hill, hoping to escape by the seaside. Only Paoli's delaying action prevented the Corsicans from being cut off and totally annihilated, and this was paid for at the cost of his life.[B] The French captured the hill along with the rebels' two cannon.

Thanks to his effective tactics, Boissieux had succeeded in breaking the siege with a minimum of casualties. Clearly this was a rebel defeat, particularly bitter after the much-lauded defense of Madonna della Serra in November. Some blame was cast on Fabiani, then at Calenzana, for not reinforcing them. Fabiani, however, argued that he could not have sustained a force large enough to deal with the whole French brigade on the barren and rocky hills near Calvi, and opined after the fact that the position was probably impossible to hold. Most of the rebel forces, however, survived the battle, and there was another benefit which derived from the loss: with the siege broken, Theodore could no longer justify holding back his own forces on the basis that it would be provocative to the French, and sent the Foreign Regiment (strength unknown, probably 200+) and four companies of the Corsican Guard (nominally 240 men) to the Balagna to support Fabiani.

Although the Genoese urged him onward, Boissieux paused to issue a new ultimatum to the rebels in the Balagna. He demanded that they surrender their arms and consign themselves to the King of France, who would guarantee the redress of valid grievances and equitable treatment of the people under Genoese sovereignty. Certainly there were those in the region, particularly in heavily filogenovesi towns like Algajola, who would have been happy to accept, but Fabiani strictly forbade it and declared disarmament or collaboration to be treason. Another letter was dispatched to Theodore, the first such missive Boissieux had sent directly to the king, saying that if his desire for a peaceful resolution was real then he should immediately press the Corsican leaders, particularly Fabiani, to comply with his ultimatum. Theodore sent a vague reply that he would do his utmost to preserve the peace and would speak with Fabiani, but offered no pledges of disarmament.

This pause allowed Fabiani some time to gather the forces which had fled from Madonna della Serra and prepare a defense, but he was pessimistic about the situation. Although he regarded the Genoese army with contempt, Fabiani knew that he was at a disadvantage in the field against French regulars. The Balagna lacked the forbidding mountains that made much of the rest of the island so difficult to conquer, and instead had a long coastline allowing the French to land troops at will. Fabiani garrisoned Algajola and Isola Rossa, but felt that a general coastal defense would disperse his forces into uselessness. Instead, he remained at Calenzana in order to counter any French attack overland.

Two weeks later, as it became clear that the Corsicans were not disarming and Theodore would be of no use in convincing them to, Boissieux launched his Balagnese campaign. As Fabiani predicted, he used his naval supremacy to his advantage, and on February 16th French forces marched eastward around the Bay of Calvi and landed another force at the cove of San Ambrogio to the north. They quickly routed local militia at Lumio and captured the village, placing them within striking distance of Algajola. Fabiani and the Balagnese hurried northwards, but in the Battle of Bracajo on the ridge above Lumio Fabiani's militia army was put to flight by the French. The militia at Algajola put up a spirited defense, but once a flotilla of five vessels (two French frigates and three Genoese vessels) appeared and started bombarding their position, they abandoned the town.

This defeat put Fabiani - and the rebels in general - in a dangerous position. Algajola was less than five miles from Isola Rossa, one of the rebels' most important ports and the primary point of departure for Balagnese oil. Calenzana was too far away to defend it, and Fabiani was forced to relocate his army northeast, to Aregno, as to be in a position to block a French push further into the Balagna. Boissieux took advantage of this, and on February 27th a Franco-Genoese force captured Calenzana from its weakened garrison. Boissieux's offensive was well-executed and a demoralizing blow to the Corsicans, and he wanted to swiftly conclude it with the seizure of Isola Rossa. The French prepared for a new attack along the Balagnese coast, to be supported by the fleet.

The Corsicans, who had always enjoyed a significant numerical advantage over the Genoese, found themselves on a more even footing against much better troops. Boissieux's brigade at Calvi consisted of five battalions, amounting to a nominal strength of about 2,550 men given the average battalion size at this time, but the journal of a French apothecary records that the sum total of losses—killed, wounded, and captured—the force had sustained between its landing and the capture of Madonna della Serra amounted to 684 men. This left Boissieux with something in the neighborhood of 1,800 infantry. Added to this were two companies of Genoese infantry provided by Commissioner-General Giovanni-Battista de Mari, who by now had agreed to provide at least a small auxiliary in the field, with a nominal total of 240 regulars. Fabiani had more men, in the neighborhood of 3,000, but of these no more than 500 were "regular" soldiers with any significant training, and the rest were militiamen who had demonstrated at Bracajo their propensity to flee rather than stand when facing French infantry in the field.

To approach Isola Rossa, the French had to pass beneath the village of Corbara, located on a rocky spur of a north-south mountain ridge. After retreating from Bracajo, Fabiani had made his headquarters in a Franciscan convent on the mountainside near Corbara which overlooked the vale of Nonza, a flat expanse of fields and orchards which the French would have to cross. By this means Fabiani had placed himself and his troops where the French were forced to attack him, and denied them any possibility of surprise. Nevertheless, after previous victories the French were confident, and on March 5th Boissieux led a force of 1,500 men and four 4-pounder field guns over the plain.


WysC2gk.jpg

The Franciscan Monastery of Corbara. Algajola can be seen in the distance, as well as the plain of farmland the French crossed to begin the Battle of Corbara.


The French encountered a large force of militia in an olive grove just west of the ridge. Succumbing to the well-drilled musketry and artillery support of the French, the Corsicans did not hold long, and fled east. The French advanced quickly after them, and ran headlong into a second line of Corsicans in the woods. This line, however, was composed mainly of regular troops, Corsican Guardsmen and foreign soldiers under Lieutenant-Colonel Karl Christian Drevitz. Drevitz had only been given orders to make a fighting retreat if the militia collapsed, but as many of the fleeing militiamen rallied behind his line he decided to stand instead. In their pursuit, the French had been funneled into a valley narrower than the frontage of their original line, which limited their ability to return fire, and they had left their cumbersome artillery behind them.

A fierce firefight ensued, at times at frightfully close range. With their lines compressed and visibility cut by the wood, the French did not successfully coordinate a charge to overrun the Corsican line. Instead, various companies mounted individual attacks that occasionally met the Corsicans in hand-to-hand combat but fell back under the local superiority of the Corsican soldiers. Fabiani, realizing what Drevitz was doing, led several hundred militia from the village of Pigna, where they came pouring down the steep hillside on the French right. Captain de Vaux, commanding the Auvergne infantry on the right flank, was killed almost immediately after this attack, and the wing fell back in confusion. This soon turned into a general retreat, and the French were driven from the woods.

Losses on both sides had been heavy, and although they had won a tactical victory the Corsicans had suffered more, with more than 300 dead or wounded compared to around 200 on the part of the French. While Fabiani was soon reinforced by more militia, however, Boissieux could not replace his losses locally, and soon he was obliged to make more detachments that dwindled his main force. The geography of the Balagna was a double-edged sword, for while the region had a long coast which was vulnerable to attack it had an equally long frontier with the mountains to the south, territory which the rebels controlled and from which they could launch raids and infiltrate the occupied zone. After the Battle of Corbara, bands of fighters from Niolo, Caccia, and Talcini began attacking Franco-Genoese positions in the south. Boissieux had preferred to garrison these towns with Genoese infantry, as he preferred to keep his field army composed of more reliable Frenchmen, but after Genoese companies was actually driven out of Zilia and Montemaggiore by the Niolesi he was obligated to station French companies there to maintain his conquests. By late March, the French had fought numerous skirmishes but to no real gain, while Boissieux's main force at Algajola had dwindled to less than a thousand men. He could no longer seriously threaten Fabiani's position in the vicinity of Isola Rossa.

Leaving the Genoese in the countryside also produced other problems. De Mari, champion of a scorched earth strategy an an uncompromising foe of "traitors," ordered the razing of orchards in the western Balagna. He claimed that such actions were punishment dealt out to rebels and their suspected sympathizers, but also that the threat of destitution and starvation would cow the other rebels into submission knowing what lay in store for them. Boissieux, despite the outbreak of war, still believed that reconciliation was necessary to end the rebellion. He forbade such actions, but it was difficult to keep the Genoese in check, and de Mari's fury was aroused at the very notion that Boissieux, who he considered little more than a mercenary, dared to tell him how to run Genoese sovereign territory.

In the south, meanwhile, the French position at Ajaccio had also been reinforced by two battalions and a company of artillery, although the latter proved mostly useless. The commander there, Marquis Jean-Baptiste François de Villemur, engaged local militias with some success, but details are thin. Unlike the Balagna, the Dila in the vicinity of Ajaccio had few open expanses outside the immediate environs of the city. After suffering a defeat at Villemur's hands, Lieutenant-General Marquis Luca d'Ornano took to the mountains and waited for opportunities to cut up French columns as they attempted to gain control of villages and valleys in the foothills of the mountains. The lone French battalion at Porto Vecchio received no reinforcements in January and remained principally as a garrison force for the next several months. It was obvious that even more men were needed. A new wave would come, the largest commitment yet of French forces, but it would not arrive until May.



Positions on Corsica at the end of March 1739


Footnotes
[1] The choice of name does not appear to have been Theodore's; it may have been christened by Captain Giovan Lucca Poggi, who had captured and initially captained her. Perhaps the name was owed to the fact that the ship was taken just a few days after the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, which originally commemorated the Battle of Lepanto.
[2] Presumably Theodore had no way of knowing how the hostages were doing in the Chateau d'If, so this was merely a warning to the French not to mistreat or execute them.
[3] The French artillery companies on Corsica possessed chiefly 4 and 8-pounder guns, but none saw frequent use and the 8-pounders virtually none at all. The guns of the French Vallière system of standardized artillery, introduced in 1732, were effective in stationary positions but not very mobile owing to their notorious weight and size. The 8-pounder's barrel alone weighed over a ton. Corsica was an insurmountable challenge for such artillery. The French also did not formally adopt a howitzer into their artillery system until the 1740s, which left mortars as the only pieces capable of bombarding the main rebel force on the summit above Calvi.

Timeline Notes
[A] The island fortress-prison featured in the Count of Monte Cristo, a book which will presumably and unfortunately never be written ITTL.
[B] Another Paoli bites the dust. This Paoli, however, has no relationship to the famous family of Giacinto and Pasquale Paoli; it was a reasonably common family name.
 
Last edited:
Hey carp, another great chapter. Not to take away from it, but I was reading a bit of your 'Harlot' TL and I know you either abandoned it or are just focusing on this, but I got a question that's killing me. As a fan of old prestigious monarchies myself (something of a romantic Monarchist) especially the Capets, and Arapads. Do the Tusculums survive into the modern age in your TL even as a branch of a branch family? Or are they meant to just be the Capets and Arapads; Makers more than shakers of nations as it were. Sorry for pivoting.
 
After seeing the Corsicans face off vs a professionally trained force of equal size for the first time; and not doing too well...

I wonder if the Corsicans will receive a von Steuben/Valley Forge sort of training in the near future?
 
Top