I'm hoping for the same here, Paoli is quite the capable leader and without having to be a wartime dictator I'm sure his policies and the way he goes about reform and overhaul would be less draconian. Theodore is young but as mentioned educated and with a knack for agriculture. I'm really hoping these events are the beginning of Corsica being able to solidly set its finances straight and start some real infrastructure development and public works. And Corsica is probably the best place in Europe to experiment with a nation made of yeoman farmers. They have almost none of the social stratification and wealth differences the mainland has. I'm so excited for infrastructure updates

Having a lot of yeoman farmers is also really helpful for economic development. Not because that's an especially efficient method of agriculture (it's not because of difficulties with economies of scale) but for a lot of other reasons:
-Not having a bunch of angry landless laborers is good for social stability and (ironically) allows the government to focus its spending on urban development if the farmers are (mostly) happy with what they have (land).
-A politically influential landlord class is never good for reform.
-It provides a very basic social safety net in developing societies as if things go south young adults can always go back to the family farm and at least have something to eat, which cuts down on extreme urban poverty among people who have no place to go.
-Having peasant families with at least a little capital really helps with getting people into middle class later on. For example having a small farm and being able to, say, sell a cow to help you kid pay for their studies is a lot easier than trying to do the same thing as landless laborers.

And I'm not just plucking this out of thin air, all of this happened in South Korea thanks to widespread land reform that was made a lot easier due to Japanese landowners having to leave. For example back in the old days it was something of a cliche in Korea for farmers to sell the family cow to help pay for university tuition for their kids.
 
I wonder if Don Isaaco is based on any real historical character, was he wholly invented for the purposes of the story?
 
I wonder if Don Isaaco is based on any real historical character, was he wholly invented for the purposes of the story?

Don Isacco himself is not a historical figure, but he is a representative of a real family. The Levi Sonsinos were indeed a Sephardic family of Livorno with interests in coral and a family network abroad. Two members of this family, Jacob and Nathan Levi Sonsino, were prominent dealers in coral and diamonds in London in the middle 18th century. They were one of a number of wealthy Sephardic families who were major players in the coral-diamond trade between Europe and India, which involved both Livorno (as a source and manufactury of coral) and London (as a market for Indian diamonds).

Speaking of which, here's an interesting article I came across recently, from the London Chronicle in October 1767:

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Jewish merchants in Livorno certainly were involved in Paoli's rebellion, trading arms to the revolutionaries in exchange for coral, but this is the first I've ever head of a significant number of Jews trying to settle there during Paoli's rule. Even if this story is accurate, this settlement never transpired; the French invaded six months later.
 
I do wonder if Corsica will be seen as a sort of an agrarian idyllic place by outside observers as time goes on. The conflicts between the migratory herders and settled farmers might flare up in interesting ways still.
 
The Fate of Bonifacio
The Fate of Bonifacio


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The Palazzo dei Podestà, seat of the Bonifacio local government


Under Genoese rule, the city of Bonifacio enjoyed more autonomy than perhaps any other city of the Genoese domain. The podesta of the city had been replaced in 1619 with a Genoese-appointed commissario who served a two-year term, but the powers of the commissioner were strictly limited. He was responsible for public order, the enforcement of Genoese law, and the physical maintenance of the city (both its fortifications and public works). All other aspects of administration were left to a locally elected government consisting of a 25-man municipal council and a 4-man council of elders which acted as an executive board. These councilors had to be at least 30 years of age, be literate, reside within twelve miles of the city, and could not be Genoese noblemen. They were elected every year, and all actions of the elders had to be approved by a two-thirds vote of the council.

In addition to its autonomous government, Bonifacio enjoyed extensive privileges under Genoese rule. Its citizens owed neither taxes nor military service to the Republic. The council could levy its own taxes and raise its own militia as it saw fit, and appointed its own officers who collected customs duties, imposed naval quarantines, and regulated the activities of shepherds and livestock in the countryside. Although the commissioner had some judicial responsibilities, most local matters of justice were handled by the council. The Corsicans had long denounced Genoa as a tyrannical oligarchy masquerading as a republic, which had a great deal of truth to it; but in taking Bonifacio, the kingdom had conquered an actual free democratic republic.

General Cesare Petriconi had neither the experience nor the inclination to run a city himself, and thus went out of his way to preserve the existing apparatus during his tenure as military governor. He initially demanded that every councilor swear an oath of loyalty to the King of Corsica, but every one of them refused, preferring to resign rather than pledge allegiance to Theodore. The war, after all, was still ongoing; it was quite possible that Genoa would recover the city through the actions of the great powers. Petriconi yielded and settled for a lesser oath, in which the councilors merely swore not to engage in any act of insurrection, sedition, or sabotage against the Corsican military authorities. Although he suspended their authority to raise a militia and banned all tolls and customs on Corsican ships, Petriconi otherwise left local legislation alone and allowed the council to manage the city as it had done under the Genoese commissioners. He resisted pressure from his own government to squeeze the city for “contributions,” arguing that this would be a breach of the terms of surrender, although he did order the confiscation of all private weapons. Oaths could only be trusted so far.

Even before the final treaty was signed, the Council of State debated Bonifacio’s ultimate fate. The obvious parallel was the city of Calvi, whose citizens had, like the Bonifacini, maintained a strong Genoese identity even after being conquered from the Republic. Theodore had magnanimously given them the full rights of citizens, and they had repaid him by eagerly handing their city over to the French during the Second Intervention. By 1782, the “Calvi problem” was considered solved - this disloyal sentiment had been dulled by time, and diluted by a deliberate policy to attract Corsican and Jewish settlers to the city. But Bonifacio was more than twice the size of Calvi, and it was even more isolated from the rest of the island. Even if “reconciliation” was possible, it would take time, and until then one of the kingdom’s most valuable strategic points would be in the hands of its least loyal subjects. Chancellor Rostini, who favored mass deportation, made the point memorably - “Bonifacio is too important to be left in the hands of the Bonifacini.”

Rostini’s opinion was not shared by the rest of the council, and after the peace the government proceeded with plans to “regularize” its relationship with Bonifacio. Theo wanted to make the city the capital of the kingdom’s tenth lieutenancy, to include Porto Vecchio and the sparsely inhabited territory east of the Incudine range.[1] But the royal luogotenente would have no more power than the old commissario, and the city’s local government could remain in place. The government was even prepared to afford the council more autonomy on administrative and judicial affairs than was usually given to provinces, for Federico had set the precedent by granting similar privileges to Capraia. The obligation of the city to provide recruits for the provincial regiments was also indefinitely suspended. When it came to taxation, however, the government was less accommodating. Continuing Bonifacio’s blanket tax exemption would have been controversial under any circumstances, but for a government in the midst of a debt crisis it was quite unthinkable.

The Corsican government considered all this to be quite generous. Far from treating the Bonifacini like conquered enemies, they were faithfully executing their treaty obligations to grant them “all the rights and privileges” of Corsican citizens, and were even offering them special consideration in recognition of the city’s special circumstances. But this was lost on the Bonifacini, who saw only the infringement of their ancient rights and the imposition of taxes which they had never voted for. This was not generosity; this was nothing less than the death of their cherished liberty.

On November 1st, General Petriconi stepped down and handed authority to the new luogotenente, Marquis Francesco Antonio Gaffori (popularly known as “Gafforio”). The son of the famed prime minister, Gaffori had pursued a military career (first in the ceremonial Guardia Nobile, then as a provincial officer) and had served in the war as a colonel of a provincial regiment, although he had seen no action. He was also the nephew of Alerio Francesco Matra, Paoli’s defeated rival. Gaffori’s appointment was commonly regarded as merely a sinecure for a marquis (as the duties of a royal luogotenente were increasingly limited), but it may have also been a political play, either to win over Gaffori personally or to deal with the Matra faction by handing out prestigious appointments outside the center of power in Bastia.

Gaffori had been instructed to govern with a light hand, but there were certain matters that he insisted on. The pledge of loyalty was no longer optional; it was one thing to refuse to give allegiance to an occupying enemy during wartime, but no public officers in the Kingdom of Corsica could refuse an oath of allegiance to the king. An empty wooden throne, meant to signify the presence of the monarch, was set up in the council chamber. When several councilors refused to take the oath, Gaffori declared the council to be dissolved and ordered new elections, in which only candidates who had taken the oath were permitted to stand for election. Many boycotted the elections, grumbling that Gaffori had no authority to dissolve their city’s government. Meanwhile, soldiers combed systematically through the city with hammers and chisels, removing the Genoese coats of arms which had decorated many of the city’s buildings for centuries.

These symbolic acts were humiliating, but predictably it was taxation which brought matters to a head. The government had decided to temporarily delay the implementation of internal taxes like the taglia and sovvenzione, but external taxes could not wait, or else anyone who wanted to avoid Corsican tariffs would simply bring their goods into Bonifacio. These included King Federico’s protectionist tariffs on domestically produced goods like furniture and woolens - and, critically, wine. Agriculture in Bonifacio’s chalky hinterland was very limited, and the city imported most of its foodstuffs from Genoa, including wine. The imposition of this tariff regime caused wine prices to immediately spike, which was especially infuriating as the right to set their own tariffs had long been part of Bonifacio’s ancient privileges.

On December 8th, a boat carrying wine into Bonifacio had its cargo confiscated by the authorities. The owner claimed to be bringing wine from Ajaccio, but was suspected of actually having bought wine in Sardinia and thus not paying the proper tariff. Fed up with high wine prices, the loss of their liberties, and general anger against the new government, a crowd of men broke into the customs house and “liberated” the wine. Some young men in the group - possibly after partaking in the wine themselves - then stormed into the Palazzo dei Podestà, dragged Gaffori’s “empty throne” out into the street, and smashed it with clubs and axes in from of the loggia of the neighboring church as a large crowd gathered. Gaffori responded by marching into the square at the head of a column of soldiers. What happened next is disputed; Gaffori claimed he ordered his men to fire warning shots, but it was difficult to control the situation in Bonifacio’s narrow alleys. However it began, it ended with the soldiers firing into the crowd. Two citizens were killed and more than a dozen wounded, and four soldiers were also injured by blows or thrown debris.

In the rest of Corsica, the “Wine Riot” was reported as a drunken orgy of violence and vandalism in which the rioters cursed the king, burned the Corsican flag, and attacked Corsican soldiers with axes. Chancellor Paoli (who had held this office for less than a week) was not taken in by such sensational rumors, but the incident seems to have soured his opinion on the project of “reconciliation.” He lamented that the “indulgent” treatment of Bonifacio by the Genoese had left them incapable of being governed. Gaffori was instructed to deal harshly with the “insurrectionists” - not merely for the sake of punishment, but as a deliberate policy of pacifying the city by driving out as many of its inhabitants as possible. Rostini was dead, but his pessimism had carried the day: Bonifacio was indeed too important to be left to the Bonifacini.

With the government’s permission, Marquis Gaffori declared the resumption of martial law. A few who could be identified as ringleaders of the riot were deported outright, along with their families, as Gaffori reasoned that their “rebellion” against the government demonstrated their rejection of the offer of Corsican citizenship. The councilors who had resigned rather than take the loyalty oath were also deported. Many others suspected of ancillary involvement received large fines, and those who were unable to pay had their houses seized in lieu of payment and were forcibly removed from their homes. The treaty had guaranteed the chattels of emigres, but not real property, and the surest way to turn citizens into emigres was to render them homeless. To defray the cost of the enhanced military presence, Corsican troops were quartered in civilian homes and the families were required to feed them at their own expense.

This oppressive reaction had the desired effect. There had been a wave of emigration after the peace treaty, but it was relatively minor - only around 200 people out of a prewar population of 2,500. Although the Bonifacini despised their new rulers, most did not want to leave their home. General Petriconi’s even-handed rule and his refusal to levy extraordinary taxes on the occupied city had led some to believe that they might be able to retain the same sort of relationship with Corsica as they had with Genoa. The Wine Riot “massacre” and the government reprisal which followed, however, led many to the conclusion that neither life nor property was safe under Corsican rule. By the time martial law was lifted six months later, the population had fallen to under 1,400.

Now the government had to find new citizens to replace the old. The prospects for internal migration were limited, for most Corsicans were farmers and would not know what to do with themselves in Bonifacio. Some Jewish families from Ajaccio were willing to move, but most preferred to stay put - Ajaccio was a more prosperous city with a large and vibrant Jewish community, whereas in Bonifacio the Jews would presumably be a small, despised minority. The government thus turned abroad, instructing its consuls in Italy to solicit immigrants. These consuls, however, did not have much to offer. The government promised free housing to new settlers (seized from the former inhabitants), but it was not in a position to hand out generous monetary incentives. It may also have been difficult to attract people to a city which had been in the news for the past year with stories of siege, repression, martial law, and people fleeing by the hundreds. The government needed more desperate candidates.



The Ten Lieutenancies of Corsica from 1783. The islands of Capraia and Gorgona, part of the Capo Corso lieutenancy, are not shown. The route of the Via Nationale, not yet complete in 1783, is shown in brown.(Click to expand)


Footnotes
[1] This territory had been part of the stato of Bonifacio under Genoese rule, and Theodore’s lieutenancies followed the lines of the old Genoese administrative divisions (the stati and luogotenenze) with only a few minor changes. As Bonifacio itself was left in Genoese hands, however, the rest of the stato was not a viable province; there were few habitations in this district aside from Porto Vecchio, which was largely abandoned during the summer. The territory of the old stato of Bonifacio was thus added to the lieutenancy of Sartena, although at the time this was viewed as a temporary expedient until either Porto Vecchio was made more congenial or Bonifacio was annexed to the kingdom.
 
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Frankly, I'm surprised there hasn't been a wave of vendettas declared, and more angry young men nicking soldiers in alleyways before fleeing into the Bonifacio hinterland true to the classic Corsican form as social bandits in the maquis.
 
Greeks? Greeks? Greeks.

Well, it's 1783, so maybe the Free Blacks of Canada are coming over in the aftermath of the British Loyalists fleeing to Canada? That'd be a bit too far though. And the British Loyalists moving to Corsica would be a bit silly.

It certainly can't be anything in the Mare Nostrum, since the Barbary Coast conflicts of the time period don't seem to have sent anyone fleeing. And the British wars of the time period didn't have any major refugee waves outside of Canada.
 
Frankly, I'm surprised there hasn't been a wave of vendettas declared, and more angry young men nicking soldiers in alleyways before fleeing into the Bonifacio hinterland true to the classic Corsican form as social bandits in the maquis.
The Bonifacini are not culturally "Corsican". Vendettas are probably outside their default mental toolbox.
 
I am still wondering as to what Bonifacio's life was like during all those decades they were the last outpost on Corsica. They must have benefitted from more trade and immigrants.
 
I do wonder how Petriconi will be seen in the aftermath of all this. The Bonifacini will see him as either the one honourable Corsican who managed to negotiate their surrender and actually keep the peace afterwards, or a liar and a cheat.

Conversely, Gaffori might blame him for creating the situation for being too soft initially, while Theodore II might lionize Petriconi as an able commander who has implicit royal trust after his ultimately successful practicality.
 
The route of the Via Nationale, not yet complete in 1783, is shown in brown.(Click to expand)
I know I would very much like to read more about the Via Nationale! Long teased, but finally coming to fruition? And why that particular route? Bastia to Ajaccio via Corti makes perfect sense of course, but why not swing by Borgo or Morosaglia along the way?
 
I know I would very much like to read more about the Via Nationale! Long teased, but finally coming to fruition? And why that particular route? Bastia to Ajaccio via Corti makes perfect sense of course, but why not swing by Borgo or Morosaglia along the way?

Corsica is a land of steep mountain valleys, so roads are constrained by geography and there are really only a few valid routes to choose from. The route pictured is pretty much the ideal route between Bastia and Ajaccio, and is also very close to the route of the Bastia-Ajaccio railway that exists IOTL. From the north, this proceeds along the coastal plan to the Golo river, up the Golo valley to the Ponte Leccia basin, through the San Quilico Pass (a low pass separating the Golo and Tavignano watersheds) to Corti, and then up the valley of the Vecchio (a tributary of the Tavignano) to the Pass of Vizzavona. From Vizzavona, the road descends into the Dila along the Gravona river until it reaches the Bay of Ajaccio. By following river valleys this route minimizes elevation change.

The road goes very close to Borgo, but Borgo is a hilltop town that overlooks the coastal plain - there's no reason for the main road to go up 900 feet and back down again just to access a town of ~500 people. Something similar is true of Morosaglia, which is up in a mountain valley and nearly 1,500 feet above the closest part of the road. It's just not worth it to route the road through these places.

Under Federico the road was completed as far south as Venaco, which is between Corte and Vizzavona, but the hardest part - the Vizzavona pass - was put on hold due to cost concerns. Some further work was done in the early years of Theo's reign, but it was put on hold again during the Coral War and might not be restarted until the government sorts its financial issues out. We will, however, see the final completion of the Via Nazionale before the end of the TL.
 
In the long term, it is better for the main road of the nation to pass close to but not through major settlements anyway. In the modern day, it will be easier to widen the road, there will be fewer reasons to impose low speed limits on clear stretches and most people would actually rather have a short trip to the Via Nazionale than have it pass by one's driveway. Granted, this is not a concern for anyone planning the road now, but it is not a bad thing in the long run.
 
Speaking of the Via Nazionale, after it's completion will we see the university of Corti be expanded? Is it even built yet? I remember reading a national university was in the works but I can't remember if it ever came to fruition yet. But once the Via Nazionale is complete I think a university would be the next step in nation building.
 
Telepylos

Telepylos


“The Genoese say that the barbarity of the Maniots will never be so great as to not be counterbalanced by that of the Corsicans. What is certain is that, if that treaty ever succeeds, no national matchmaking shall ever prove a better choice. Their common marriages shall produce offspring which will be masterpieces of monstrosity.”

- Georges Guillet de Saint-George, 1675, regarding the arrival of the Greeks in Corsica


In March of 1782, as the Coral War was still ongoing, the British garrison of Fort St. Philip surrendered to Bourbon forces. Having finally regained control of Minorca, Spain’s first order of business was to expel all the “foreign” peoples whom the British had settled on the island. The British authorities had purposefully introduced non-Catholic populations to the island, chiefly Greeks and Jews, to counterbalance the hostile native population. From the 1760s, however, the Jews had gravitated towards Corsica rather than Minorca, leaving the British with mainly Greeks.

The Spanish considered the Greeks to be not merely foreigners, but enemies. A British governor noted their “incredible spirit” for privateering; in just a few years between the outbreak of war and the final fall of Port Mahon, the British recorded more than 50 privateer ships based out of Minorca which captured 220 prizes worth nearly 400,000 pounds sterling in total. The number of Greeks among these privateers is not recorded, but they clearly had more relish for the enterprise than the native Minorcans, who tended to be more sympathetic to their Spanish brethren.

The Spanish authorities gave the entire population just three days to leave, and they were forced to leave all their property behind. The brothers Nicola and Cana Alexiano, probably the richest Greeks on the island, attested that they had been deprived of “estates and property in land, houses, warehouses, ships, and merchandize” worth more than 10,000 pounds sterling. The Alexianos, however, were the lucky ones - they managed to get a ticket back to England with the garrison, which had surrendered on terms, and they could still rely on some funds invested in places the Spaniards could not reach. Most of the Minorcan Greeks had neither their resources nor their influence, and were instead dropped off in Marseilles with little more than what they could carry on their backs.[A]


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Ships off Port Mahon


Don Giorgio Maria Stefanopoli, the de facto leader of the Corsican Greek community, was predictably interested in attracting some of these exiles to Ajaccio. His dwindling community had been looking down the barrel of eventual extinction prior to the Archipelago Expedition. When the Russians made peace with the Ottomans, they left the Greek rebels to their fate, and while many went into exile in Russian territory Stefanopoli had managed to induce a few hundred Greeks (mostly Moreans and Cretans) to follow him into exile. Although this had given the Greco-Corsicans a demographic reprieve, more immigrants would ensure the survival of Don Giorgio’s community - and, of course, expand his own influence and importance as the community’s foremost representative.

The Corsican government, however, was not interested - firstly, because they were in the middle of a war, and secondly, because the last thing they needed was more people in Ajaccio. The city’s population had exploded in the last twenty years thanks to Jewish immigration and the arrival of poor Corsicans from the interior Dila looking for better wages than they received as tenant farmers, but this had strained both the city’s meager water supply and its civil harmony. The native Ajaccini had been tolerant enough when the Jews were a small minority bringing the wealth of the coral industry to their city, but the rapid expansion of Jewish settlement caused unease among Ajaccio’s native upper class and resentment among those who found themselves in competition with Jewish artisans (or, at the lower end of the economic ladder, poor laborers from the countryside). Adding another thousand Greeks to this situation seemed unwise.

The cause of the Minorcan Greeks would be taken up again in the following year by Andrea Mavrachi (born Andreas Mavrakis), a former officer in the Corsican Navy. Mavrachi was a sailor from Crete who had fought for the Russians as a privateer during the Archipelago Expedition and had left the island with the Korsikanskiy legion. He had settled in Ajaccio, joined the navy as an alfiere (a junior officer rank, equivalent to a midshipman), and was fortunate enough to have been assigned to the Lacedemone, where he shared in Admiral Lorenzo’s lucrative captures of Genoese shipping. When the war ended he resigned from the navy and used his prize money to buy his own ship. He visited Bonifacio on business in the spring of 1783, and the white-cliffed city appears to have made quite an impression on him.

Mavrachi may have learned of the plight of the Minorcan Greeks from Stefanopoli, but the two were not close. “Kapetán Yiorgákis,” as the Greeks called Don Giorgio, ruled the Greek community as if it was his own personal fiefdom and favored his own Maniot clan over the new arrivals like Mavrachi. Stefanopoli wanted to bring more Greeks to Ajaccio because Ajaccio was his community; finding a home for them in Bonifacio did not serve his interests, as he would not be able to exert the same influence there. Mavrachi, however, saw Bonifacio as a chance to build a new community beyond the grasp of the Kapetán and the Stefanopoli clan. Now that he had a ship of his own, Mavrachi began visiting Marseilles and other ports to make contact with the Minorcan exiles and spread the word about this potential opportunity.

Chancellor Paoli did not immediately embrace this plan, as despite his commitment to “Theodoran liberty” he was concerned about backlash against non-Catholics, particularly from a population as volatile as that of Bonifacio. Yet he could not deny that the Greeks would be useful to the state, as Corsica’s lack of experienced seamen was a liability in both peace and war. A population grateful to their “hosts” for rescuing them from exile and poverty might be just the counterbalance to Bonifacio’s disloyal natives that Paoli was looking for. Despite the fierce opposition of Stefanopoli, who considered this whole project to be a challenge to his authority, Mavrachi was able to raise the funds to charter two ships to bring 380 Minorcan Greeks to Bonifacio in September of 1783.

Bonifacio was not exactly an idyll. The Greeks had lost everything in Minorca, and while the government offered them free homes they were given little else. They were treated with hostility by the native Bonifacini, who saw them as interlopers squatting in the houses of their departed neighbors and friends. But they did enjoy the support of the luogotenente, Marquis Francesco Antonio Gaffori, the benefits of which went beyond mere protection. When the Greeks began building their own chapel, local Catholic priests attempted to impede them by forbidding their parishioners to aid them in any way, including providing them with any labor or selling them any goods. Gaffori dispatched a company of troops to assist in building the chapel, sent a letter to the Bishop of Ajaccio demanding that he censure the local priests, and threatened to fine shop owners for “disturbing civil peace” if they refused to sell to Greeks. Gaffori had no strong attachment to the Greeks, but he had nothing but contempt for the “Ligurians” (who despised him with equal vigor) and backed any initiative which he believed would weaken and humiliate them.

More Greeks would soon follow. Some of the initial colonists may have believed that their stay on Corsica would be temporary; the French had expelled the Greek community once before, in the 1750s, only for them to return home when the island was returned to Britain at the end of the Prussian War. This time, however, Britain’s loss would be permanent, for in the Treaty of Paris of 1784 which ended the American War of Independence, Minorca was formally returned to Spanish sovereignty. Many Minorcan Greeks who had been holding out for a chance to return home now accepted the inevitable and followed their countrymen to Bonifacio. In 1785 the community reached a thousand souls, surpassing Don Giorgio’s community in Ajaccio.

The dispute over the chapel was not the last time the Greeks of Bonifacio would find themselves at the center of religious controversy. Most of the initial Greek colonists of Bonifacio were, at least formally, Catholic. While some of these people were firmly attached to the Roman faith - many Minorcan Greeks were originally from the Venetian-controlled Ionian Islands, which had a sizable Greek Catholic population - most had converted during their time in Minorca in a vain attempt to mitigate local prejudice. For the most part, these “converts” had maintained their traditional rites and practices, merely adding a nominal profession of obedience to Rome. In Bonifacio, however, such obedience no longer seemed to serve any purpose, and within a few years of the initial settlement several Orthodox priests from Ottoman Greece arrived at this new Greek colony and set about trying to “re-evangelize” the locals, urging them to return to the pristine traditions of their ancestors. As there was no legal obstacle to doing so, many “reverted” to Orthodoxy.

This created a furor among the Catholic clergy of Corsica greater than any objection to Jewish settlement. The Jews may not have been Christian, but they at least did not proselytize; no Corsican Jew was actively encouraging apostasy from the Roman religion. Theo and his government came under pressure from both the native clergy and the Spanish Jesuits to expel the “schismatic” foreign priests who were at the forefront of this movement. As these priests were non-resident foreigners, they were not protected by the Corsican constitution, and most of them were eventually deported on the rather flimsy basis that their preaching activities disturbed the peace. The government, however, had neither the legal authority nor the desire to actually mandate the observance of the Catholic faith. While some Greek Bonifacini persisted in their obedience to Rome, either out of genuine conviction or a belief that formal Catholicism would help them climb the ladder in the Corsican government or military, they were relegated to a minority within the Greek community in the city.

The final rearguard action fought by the Ligurian Bonifacini would be over the fate of their ancient government. Despite increasing numbers of Greek settlers, the native Bonifacini retained control over their local councils for some years because of the law that counselors had to be literate - specifically, literate in Italian. That requirement did not extend to voters, however, and eventually the Greeks were able to assemble a slate of better-educated Greek candidates to stand for election, including Mavrachi. In 1786 the natives responded to this threat by passing a new law which declared that candidates also had to either be born in Bonifacio or born to a Bonifacini parent, which disqualified all the Greeks.

Fortunately for the Greeks, the king himself was sympathetic to their plight. When Bonifacio had fallen to the Corsican Army during the Coral War, King Theodore II had reluctantly agreed to not make a triumphal entry into the city for the sake of his personal safety and the public peace. In 1784, however, he finally made the journey. The king toured the clifftop city and stayed at the Cattaciolo House, a residence popularly known as the Casa di Carlo V because Emperor Charles V had stayed there for three nights in 1541 after his failed expedition to Algiers. Theo’s reception by the Ligurian-Bonifacini was rather sullen and indifferent, but he was surprised by the warm reception given to him by the Greek settlers. The Greek community leaders organized performances for his entertainment, and Mavrachi played up his record as the king’s loyal soldier - in stark contrast to the Ligurians, who had recently been Theo’s enemies.


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Front door and engraved lintel of the Casa di Cattaciolo, which housed both Emperor Charles V and King Theodore II


Such pandering was not the only reason for Theo to support the Greeks, but it surely didn’t hurt. When he received a petition from Mavrachi and other Greek leaders complaining of their disenfranchisement, the king was keen to demonstrate that loyalty was rewarded. He received some pushback from Paoli and the Justice Ministry, as the government had always tried to avoid interposing itself in matters of “local presidial administration.” Instead, Theo was convinced to intervene in a more oblique manner. Rather than annulling the act of the Bonifacini council specifically, the king signed a grida which declared that “no subject of the Kingdom shall be denied the exercise of their rights… on the basis of the place of their birth, the nationality of their forebears, or the length of their residence in the Kingdom.” This edict, commonly known as the “Residence Decree,” not only broke the power of the minority government in Bonifacio but created a durable precedent that natural-born and naturalized citizens could not be treated differently in Corsican law. From 1787 the Greeks entered local government and - aided by continued emigration of the Ligurian “natives” - soon came to dominate the civic council.

The establishment of the Greek “colony” at Bonifacio created a bifurcation in the Corsican Greek community as a whole. The community of the Stefanopoli in Ajaccio, which remained predominantly Maniot, consisted of more “Corsicanized” Greeks - the Greek Ajaccini were overwhelmingly Catholic (although many still practiced the Greek rite), wore Italian fashions, and spoke Italian in public. The ennobled “Stefanopoli de Comnene” family continued to wield influence after the death of Don Giorgio in 1786 and its members remained proud of their supposed imperial Byzantine heritage, but they increasingly saw themselves as Corsican aristocrats first and foremost, and regularly intermarried with other Corsican elite families in the 19th century.

In contrast, the Greek settlers of Bonifacio tended to come from the isles (Crete, the Aegean Islands, and the Ionian Islands), were mostly Orthodox, seldom married outside their community, and were more “traditional” in their dress and habits. By the early 19th century the traditional fustanella seems to have entirely disappeared from Ajaccio but was still commonly worn by Greek men in Bonifacio. The Greco-Bonifacini also maintained ties with Greece itself, which would become relevant in the 19th century when Greek nationalist movements began to challenge Ottoman rule. Bonifacio would become a significant center of nationalist expatriate activity in the 1800s, with several prominent Greco-Bonifacini becoming involved in financing, organizing, and recruiting for the nascent Greek national struggle.[B]


Timeline Notes
[A] This expulsion occurred in IOTL, albeit in 1781. Exact numbers of the expelled population and their ethnic makeup are hard to come by. Most sources I’ve seen focus on the Jewish population, which is said to have been about 500 people at the time of the expulsion. The total number of foreign settlers (“Jews, Greeks, and Moors”) may have been around 3,000, and I have seen estimates for the Greek population ranging from 500 to 2,000. ITTL the number of Minorcan Jews is much smaller than 500 as Ajaccio is a more attractive destination for Jewish settlement than Port Mahon, and the British have made up for it by recruiting more Greeks.
[B] This update’s title is a reference to the Odyssey. Bonifacio has been identified as a possible candidate for Telepylos (“far-off port”), the home of the giant man-eating Laestrygonians in Homer’s epic. In the story, the Laestrygonians hurl rocks down upon Odysseus’s ships and destroy nearly all of them, with Odysseus escaping only because his own ship was moored outside the harbor. Homer’s description of the harbor (“about which on both sides a sheer cliff runs continuously, and projecting headlands opposite to one another stretch out at the mouth, and the entrance is narrow”) is consistent with the harbor of Bonifacio, although this is hardly determinative on its own. Perhaps more intriguing is that one of the tribes of the Corsi - the ancient inhabitants of Corsica - was known to the Romans as the Lestriconi, which sounds awfully similar to Laestrygones. In Roman times the Lestriconi dwelled in the northeastern corner of Sardinia, just across the strait from Bonifacio. Perhaps in Homer’s time they had not yet migrated across the strait.
 
Fantastic post! I love how plucky little Corsica has become a little bit of a safe haven for other plucky little peoples who have nowhere to go. It's a truly wonderful little state unlike anywhere else in Europe. Also, I was interested in the King's grida:
king signed a grida which declared that “no subject of the Kingdom shall be denied the exercise of their rights… on the basis of the place of their birth, the nationality of their forebears, or the length of their residence in the Kingdom
Despite being intended only as a way to stick it to the Genonans in Bonifacio, did Theo just lay the foundations for a formal system of naturalization for foreign-born Corsicans? It's so interesting that Corsica, despite being one of the biggest backwaters in all of Europe, is stumbling towards being a modern constitutional democracy.
 
Fantastic post! I love how plucky little Corsica has become a little bit of a safe haven for other plucky little peoples who have nowhere to go. It's a truly wonderful little state unlike anywhere else in Europe. Also, I was interested in the King's grida:

Despite being intended only as a way to stick it to the Genonans in Bonifacio, did Theo just lay the foundations for a formal system of naturalization for foreign-born Corsicans? It's so interesting that Corsica, despite being one of the biggest backwaters in all of Europe, is stumbling towards being a modern constitutional democracy.

Most democracies that weren't imposed by revolution or conquest stumbled to that state rather accidentally.
 
Despite being intended only as a way to stick it to the Genonans in Bonfascio, did Theo just lay the foundations for a formal system of naturalization for foreign-born Corsicans? It's so interesting that Corsica, despite being one of the biggest backwaters in all of Europe, is stumbling towards being a modern constitutional democracy.

Naturalization in Corsica has, since independence, been claimed as a royal prerogative, and is accomplished via a royal patent - which means, in practice, that citizenship is the remit of the Chancellery. There is no "formal system" as such, but there are certain norms that have been established over the past three decades which have been generally observed by successive grand chancellors. Theodore I wanted to attract as many immigrants as possible, and thus the bar was set extremely low; it was only necessary to establish a residence in the kingdom and pledge allegiance to the king and constitution. Federico modified this system by requiring would-be subjects to register with the new provincial chambers and imposing a naturalization fee (although this can be waived at royal discretion, and was mainly intended to extract some revenue from immigrants of means, particularly the Jews). Other that that, however, there are no formal requirements - no length of residency has ever been required in the kingdom.

The Residence Decree is less about national citizenship than it is about political rights. Just because someone is a naturalized subject doesn't mean they are considered a resident of a specific pieve or presidio, and local residency is required to be able to vote in local elections. The local government of Bonifacio is not obligated to let you vote in their elections just because you decided to show up one day, and rightfully so. But the process of gaining this residency was never established by the national government, and was left entirely to local communities. The main effect of the Residence Decree is to establish a process for local residency (mainly, you need to re-register with the provincial chamber) and to prohibit local governments from putting up certain impediments to residency (and thus political representation) based on birth, length of residence, and so on.

This can be seen as part of a long, gradual process of the national government asserting control over and imposing certain standards upon local "democracy," which was formerly treated as a sort of traditional indigenous practice which the royal government didn't directly concern itself with.
 
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