In the Court of the Laurel King
In the Court of the Laurel King


kdOTeSP.jpg

Villa "il Fontanone" on the hillside above Cervioni


Theodore I had many capitals over the course of his reign. During the Revolution the king had established his chief residence at Cervioni, but subsequently moved to Vescovato, Corti, and finally Bastia over the course of the war. After 1749 the king moved between Bastia, Corti, and Ajaccio depending on his needs and whims, but the growth of the Corsican administration and his own family made this roaming less and less practical. Theodore personally preferred Ajaccio and settled permanently at the Augustinian Palace during his later years, but by this time the government and Theodore’s extended family had settled at the Palace of the Governors in Bastia, which offered the best amenities and swift communication with the Italian mainland.[1] Under King Federico Bastia’s supremacy was confirmed, and the king rarely left the city except to attend the consulta generale in Corti.

Wherever the king was, poor infrastructure and economic constraints meant that attending him in person was a significant undertaking for many Corsicans. While a few southern sgio were true rentiers, living a quasi-feudal existence on their lands worked by sharecroppers or laborers, many "elites," noble or otherwise, were little more than independent smallholders (proprietari) who could not afford to leave their lands for long periods of time. While procuratori only needed to attend one assembly a year, the members of the dieta had to “reside in the court of the sovereign” for at least 6 weeks during their annual term,[2] and a secretary or minister of state had to reside at Bastia for most of the year. These positions were all stipendiary, but still required the men who held these offices to abandon fields, orchards, families, and communal obligations for longer than many were willing to accept. This was not only a formidable obstacle to constructing a full-time national administration, but hampered the development of a “national” aristocracy of the sort that had been constituted at Versailles, the royal court par excellence which had served to concentrate the French nobility permanently under the watchful eye of le Roi Soleil.

The “court” of Bastia was not a permanent assembly of the nobility, but a seasonally rotating cast of characters who might show up for only a few months, weeks, or even days before making their way back to the provinces for the rest of the year. The court had a seasonal ebb and flow: Attendance was low during the summer harvest, then spiked in early September as many dignitaries who had already made the effort to travel to the consulta generale chose to add Bastia to their itinerary, then fell again as winter snows made travel more difficult, and finally evened out in the spring. Some nobles might not make the trip at all, or only show up every few years to remind the king of their existence. Northerners were overrepresented for reasons of simple geography, compounding their already considerable numerical advantage.

The difference in attendance between men and women was also significant. Notwithstanding the frequent presence of women in local elections, most Corsicans considered national politics to be “men’s business,” and visitors to court often left their wives at home to tend to domestic affairs and agricultural labor in their absence. Just as there were few “men of leisure” in Corsica, there were few women of leisure; there was no sense that a woman ought to be exempted from domestic chores merely because one addressed her as signora. Many considered travel to be too difficult or undignified for women, and provincial noblemen were sometimes concerned that the journey to Bastia - or the court itself - might endanger the honor and virtue of their female relations, particularly if they were expected to remain at Bastia for some time. It was always difficult for Corsican queens to find well-bred ladies-in-waiting to attend to them because very few Corsican families were willing to send young, unmarried women far away from the direct supervision of their fathers and brothers.

The court protocol of Bastia was very loosely based on that of Versailles, which was the royal court Theodore I had been most familiar with, albeit in a form so reduced and simplified as to be almost unrecognizable. The premier event of the day was the morning ceremony or lever (“to rise” in French), although after King Theodore II “Italianized” court protocol in the 1790s it became known as the alba (“dawn”). Unlike at Versailles there was no petit lever, the ceremonial intrusion into the king’s private chambers in which select members of court would witness him be dressed and groomed. Theodore I had valued his privacy, and the Corsicans would probably have found such an indiscreet display embarrassing and bizarre. After rising, dressing, and grooming with the help of his private staff, the king would usually have a light breakfast and then proceed to the antechamber, or living room.

In the antechamber the king would be attended by his “familiars:” the court marshal (maresciallo di corte), the chamberlain (gran cameriere), the high steward (gran maggiordomo), the grand chancellor, the grand almoner, the three delegati residenti (resident members of the dieta), and a few other intimates.[3] His wife would also join him at this stage; they had separate bedrooms and living rooms and would usually go through their respective morning routines separately, not seeing each other until the queen arrived at the king’s antechamber already in full court dress. For anyone else, being summoned to the antechamber along with the familiari was a rare honor. Here, the king would go over the day’s plans with his household officials, read letters, and discuss any preliminary business that was not appropriate for the general audience.

After this the king would proceed to the sala maggiore (great hall), where the rest of the court would already be gathered. A coronet of the Guardia Nobile would announce “mesdames et messieurs, le Roi” (from the 1790s, “signore e signori, il Re”) and the attendees would bow while the king took his throne. If the queen was present, she would then take her seat beside him. The chamberlain would then ring a silver bell to mark the beginning of the general audience, and the attendees were announced and presented themselves before the throne in order of precedence. Members of the royal family came first, followed by foreign envoys,[4] and then the Corsican nobility in order - knights of the Order of Redemption, marquesses, counts, hereditary knights, catenati, and finally untitled nobility (e.g. the son of a nobleman, addressed as don but not yet a knight/count/marquis).

As each dignitary was introduced, they would step before the dais, bow to the king, and exclaim “votre sérénissime majesté”/“vostra serenissima maestà” (“your most serene majesty”). If he chose, the king could take the opportunity to exchange a few words with them. Unlike his father, who rarely spoke during this procession, Theo relished the chance to “perform” as king. Each day he would read over the list of attendees prior to the audience - sometimes while still in bed - and have aides supply him with news about the individuals present so that he could ask a nobleman how his sick brother was doing, congratulate him on the marriage of his son, and otherwise make it appear as though he had a near-encyclopedic knowledge of everything that was going on in Corsica down to the most remote pieve.

Once the general audience was concluded, the king would go to the adjacent royal chapel and take mass, joined by his family, the grand almoner, and any church prelates who happened to be present. He would then come back through the sala maggiore (as the court bowed again) and withdraw to the antechamber to conduct private audiences. Those hoping for such an audience would stand outside the door, waiting to be called in, while the rest of the court would mingle and converse outside. When the king was finished, the end of the alba would be announced and the sala maggiore would be cleared.

The king would then exit the royal apartments and descend to the sala del vicariato (“Hall of the Vicariate,” which retained its name from the Genoese era when it was the office of the vice-regent), directly below the sala maggiore, where he would attend the daily meeting of the Council of State. If the king chose not to attend - which usually happened when he wanted to get an early start on hunting - it would be presided over by the Grand Chancellor in his capacity as vice-president of the council. Typically all of this business was completed by midday, after which the king ate dinner (that is, lunch) and was then free for the rest of the day to hunt, ride, or do whatever else he pleased. Unlike at Versailles there was no coucher, the evening equivalent of the morning ceremony; one was quite enough.

For those attending court, the alba lasted from well before the king made his entrance (as all were expected to be present and ready when he entered the hall) until the king’s officials declared the end of the audience and cleared the hall. At this point the court descended the horseshoe staircase to the courtyard, where they might linger and converse. Gentlemen might leave the palace grounds and proceed to a salon or coffeehouse to continue their conversations, while ladies would usually return directly to apartments or boarding houses in the city which catered to visiting notables. On some days court attendees might be invited to reconvene at the sala maggiore later in the day for a concert, play, or any other entertainment which was on offer. This was usually presided over by the queen as the king was typically out for the afternoon.

The full ceremony only played out when the monarch was actually present, which was not always the case. Federico scarcely ever left Bastia after becoming king except to attend the consulta generale, but his son was an avid traveler who enjoyed surveying the realm from horseback. Theodore I had established two other royal residences, the Augustinian Palace at Ajaccio and the Villetta Reale at Corti, but the former was in a lamentably poor state by 1780 and the latter was a glorified cottage seldom used for anything other than the royal visit to the consulta.

King Federico added only one property to this list, a block-shaped three story building just outside Cervioni which had originally been built as a watermill and became known as il Fontanone (“the Fountain”). Like the Villetta Reale in Corti, il Fontantone was intended to be a modest royal apartment for the king’s use when attending ceremonies at Cervioni and the vale of Alesani (specifically, coronations and state funerals). Theodore II used it during his coronation and visited it several times on hunting trips, but in 1781 he gave it to Princess Carina for her own personal use. The princess resided here whenever she was not attending court or on some expedition, and in her later years she lived at "the Fountain" more or less permanently. The princess renovated it to her own tastes, and it acquired a somewhat mysterious reputation - a gabled chateau secluded in the trees above Cervioni, draped in flowers and ivy, accessible only by an old Genoese bridge over a rushing torrent, inhabited by the princess, her horses, a few servants, and a very noisy colony of peacocks.


SXFgSNA.png

The Forest of Sorba


For court functions there was no alternative to Bastia until the initial construction of the Reggia di Noceta. Theo enjoyed hunting in the forest of Sorba, located in central Corsica in the pieve of Rogna, and had built a modest wooden hunting lodge near the tiny village of Noceta in 1779. Despite appearing quite secluded, however, it was conveniently close to the Via Nazionale and only eight miles south of Corti, and Theo arranged for the lodge to be replaced with a two-story stone building which would serve not only as a royal residence during the king’s hunting trips but a small “summer palace” which would be more commodious than the Villetta Reale in Corti. Completed in 1787, this initial building - more would come later - had a semicircular portico with columns of green and white Restonica marble, the first example of Corsican Neoclassical architecture. The palace had a sala maggiore of its own, allowing the alba to be conducted here when the king was in residence. Although initially much smaller than the Reggia di Bastia, the Noceta palace was augmented and renovated many times during the lives of Theo and his successors and would eventually surpass the Palace of the Governors in size.

While Bastia remained the center of court life, its suitability as the kingdom’s capital was gradually coming under more and more scrutiny. Bastia owed its present distinction mainly to inertia, and there were numerous deficiencies with the site. It had a small and inadequate harbor, was bordered by malarial marshland to the south, and was poorly situated for defense either by land or by sea. During the Coral War the king had been able to watch the Grande Armamento through his bedroom window, and the possibility of the king and his family being directly threatened by a hostile fleet was not at all outside the realm of possibility. Bastia’s northern position was conveniently located for communication with Italy but was prejudiced against the participation of southerners in government and court, a problem which would only become more acute towards the end of the century.

None of this was new information, but until the 1780s there had simply been no suitable alternative. Ajaccio was too isolated from the north, which was where most Corsicans lived. Corti was centrally located but barely a city at all, with few amenities and far from the coastal presidi which were the kingdom’s gateways to the outside world. Cervioni, the kingdom’s first capital, was well-situated on the doorstep of the kingdom’s Castagniccian heartland but was even smaller than Corti and had no port. Only Bastia had an actual palace worthy of the name, and the crown’s resources had never been great enough to consider building a new one.

From the 1780s, however, Theo began to seriously consider the possibility of relocating elsewhere - specifically, to Ajaccio. The king had always favored the city since his youthful days visiting his grand-uncle at the Augustinian Palace and “holding court” there as crown prince during the 1770s. The growth of the coral industry and the foundation of the Royal Bank of Ajaccio had established the city as the commercial capital of the kingdom, and it was already on the verge of surpassing Bastia as the largest city on the island. Rather than being hemmed in by mountains and marshes, Ajaccio had some room to expand, although it did have water supply issues that needed to be addressed. Ajaccio was blessed with a fine natural harbor, and the completion of the Via Nazionale in 1788 made reaching the city much less difficult for northerners.

The growing resources of the crown also meant that replacing the Reggia di Bastia was now actually possible to imagine. The Augustinian Palace, a converted seminary, was not really suitable; not only did this coastal building share the same vulnerability as the Palace of the Governors, but it was too small, in a poor state of repair, and lacked the appropriate architecture for court functions.[5] Theo began envisioning a new residence which would actually be built for purpose, located not in the city itself but amidst the sunny and fertile land around Ajaccio where he could surround himself with gardens and orchards that could not be realized in either the urban center of Bastia or the pine forests around Noceta. In the early 19th century this vision would eventually be made reality in the form of “Cortenova,” the greatest example of Corsican Neoclassicism, which would finally replace the Reggia di Bastia as the primary seat of King Theodore II and his successors.[6][A] This was accomplished only in the face of considerable political opposition; it was in the interest of the northeastern nobility that the court remain permanently on their doorstep, to say nothing of the artisans and businessmen whose livings depended substantially on the operations of the royal household and the needs of its attending courtiers. Yet these entrenched interests were ultimately unable to hold back the wishes of a monarch who possessed both the motivation and the means to alter the political geography of the kingdom to his own purpose.


Footnotes
[1] References to the palazzo dei governatori continue to appear for years after Corsican independence even though there were no longer any “governors” there. Officially it was known as il palazzo reale di Bastia (“the royal palace of Bastia”) but was more often referred to as la reggia (also meaning “the royal [palace],” from the Latin regia, “royal”). Not until the 19th century was the term reggia used more generically to refer to any “major” residence of the king, of which there were three during the reign of Theodore II: the Reggia di Bastia, the Reggia di Noceta, and the Reggia Cortenova (or simply Cortenova).
[2] The Constitution of 1736 mandated that three members of the 24-person dieta, two northerners and one southerner, “must always reside in the Court of the Sovereign.” These men were known as delegati residenti (delegates-resident) or simply residenti. Customarily this duty was handled with a shift system, called the rota, in which the dieta was divided into eight terzine (“tercets”) of two northerners and one southerner each, and each terzina spent one-eighth of the year at court, or about 45 days. The dieta, however, could constitute itself at any time and usually did so at Bastia, so members might have to travel even outside of their scheduled rota period.
[3] One of the privileges given to Knights of the Military Order of the Redemption was the right to attend the king in his forechamber, so there might be a handful of decorated military men present as well.
[4] It was standard practice that the diplomat of a prince ought to be afforded equal precedence to the prince he represented, and thus envoys came before any of the nobility regardless of their own noble title.
[5] Theo would eventually donate the Augustinian Palace to the government, which would renovate and reopen it as the Royal Theodoran University of Ajaccio.
[6] Cortenova means “new court,” which is both a literal description of the palace’s purpose and also a direct translation of Neuhoff.

Timeline Notes
[A] We will regrettably not see Cortenova take shape ITTL, although I have some ideas about location and layout that might show up in some epilogue post. In proper modern Italian it would be Cortenuova, but “-nova” is used here as a deliberate Latinism/archaicism. The loss of the diphthong is also common among Tuscan dialects, including Corsican (in which “new” is novu).
 
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In the Court of the Laurel King


kdOTeSP.jpg

Villa "La Fontanone" on the hillside above Cervioni


Theodore I had many capitals over the course of his reign. During the Revolution the king had established his chief residence at Cervioni, but subsequently moved to Vescovato, Corti, and finally Bastia over the course of the war. After 1749 the king moved between Bastia, Corti, and Ajaccio depending on his needs and whims, but the growth of the Corsican administration and his own family made this roaming less and less practical. Theodore personally preferred Ajaccio and settled permanently at the Augustinian Palace during his later years, but by this time the government and Theodore’s extended family had settled at the Palace of the Governors in Bastia, which offered the best amenities and swift communication with the Italian mainland.[1] Under King Federico Bastia’s supremacy was confirmed, and the king rarely left the city except to attend the consulta generale in Corti.

Wherever the king was, poor infrastructure and economic constraints meant that attending him in person was a significant undertaking for many Corsicans. While a few southern sgio were true rentiers, living a quasi-feudal existence on their lands worked by sharecroppers or laborers, many "elites," noble or otherwise, were little more than independent smallholders (proprietari) who could not afford to leave their lands for long periods of time. While procuratori only needed to attend one assembly a year, the members of the dieta had to “reside in the court of the sovereign” for at least 6 weeks during their annual term,[2] and a secretary or minister of state had to reside at Bastia for most of the year. These positions were all stipendiary, but still required the men who held these offices to abandon fields, orchards, families, and communal obligations for longer than many were willing to accept. This was not only a formidable obstacle to constructing a full-time national administration, but hampered the development of a “national” aristocracy of the sort that had been constituted at Versailles, the royal court par excellence which had served to concentrate the French nobility permanently under the watchful eye of le Roi Soleil.

The “court” of Bastia was not a permanent assembly of the nobility, but a seasonally rotating cast of characters who might show up for only a few months, weeks, or even days before making their way back to the provinces for the rest of the year. The court had a seasonal ebb and flow: Attendance was low during the summer harvest, then spiked in early September as many dignitaries who had already made the effort to travel to the consulta generale chose to add Bastia to their itinerary, then fell again as winter snows made travel more difficult, and finally evened out in the spring. Some nobles might not make the trip at all, or only show up every few years to remind the king of their existence. Northerners were overrepresented for reasons of simple geography, compounding their already considerable numerical advantage.

The difference in attendance between men and women was also significant. Notwithstanding the frequent presence of women in local elections, most Corsicans considered national politics to be “men’s business,” and visitors to court often left their wives at home to tend to domestic affairs and agricultural labor in their absence. Just as there were few “men of leisure” in Corsica, there were few women of leisure; there was no sense that a woman ought to be exempted from domestic chores merely because one addressed her as signora. Many considered travel to be too difficult or undignified for women, and provincial noblemen were sometimes concerned that the journey to Bastia - or the court itself - might endanger the honor and virtue of their female relations, particularly if they were expected to remain at Bastia for some time. It was always difficult for Corsican queens to find well-bred ladies-in-waiting to attend to them because very few Corsican families were willing to send young, unmarried women far away from the direct supervision of their fathers and brothers.

The court protocol of Bastia was very loosely based on that of Versailles, which was the royal court Theodore I had been most familiar with, albeit in a form so reduced and simplified as to be almost unrecognizable. The premier event of the day was the morning ceremony or lever (“to rise” in French), although after King Theodore II “Italianized” court protocol in the 1790s it became known as the alba (“dawn”). Unlike at Versailles there was no petit lever, the ceremonial intrusion into the king’s private chambers in which select members of court would witness him be dressed and groomed. Theodore I had valued his privacy, and the Corsicans would probably have found such an indiscreet display embarrassing and bizarre. After rising, dressing, and grooming with the help of his private staff, the king would usually have a light breakfast and then proceed to the antechamber, or living room.

In the antechamber the king would be attended by his “familiars:” the court marshal (maresciallo di corte), the chamberlain (gran cameriere), the high steward (gran maggiordomo), the grand chancellor, the grand almoner, the three delegati residenti (resident members of the dieta), and a few other intimates.[3] His wife would also join him at this stage; they had separate bedrooms and living rooms and would usually go through their respective morning routines separately, not seeing each other until the queen arrived at the king’s antechamber already in full court dress. For anyone else, being summoned to the antechamber along with the familiari was a rare honor. Here, the king would go over the day’s plans with his household officials, read letters, and discuss any preliminary business that was not appropriate for the general audience.

After this the king would proceed to the sala maggiore (great hall), where the rest of the court would already be gathered. A coronet of the Guardia Nobile would announce “messieurs et mesdames, le Roi” (from the 1790s, “signori e signore, il Re”) and the attendees would bow while the king took his throne. If the queen was present, she would then take her seat beside him. The chamberlain would then ring a silver bell to mark the beginning of the general audience, and the attendees were announced and presented themselves before the throne in order of precedence. Members of the royal family came first, followed by foreign envoys,[4] and then the Corsican nobility in order - knights of the Order of Redemption, marquesses, counts, hereditary knights, catenati, and finally untitled nobility (e.g. the son of a nobleman, addressed as don but not yet a knight/count/marquis).

As each dignitary was introduced, they would step before the dais, bow to the king, and exclaim “votre sérénissime majesté”/“vostra serenissima maestà” (“your most serene majesty”). If he chose, the king could take the opportunity to exchange a few words with them. Unlike his father, who rarely spoke during this procession, Theo relished the chance to “perform” as king. Each day he would read over the list of attendees prior to the audience - sometimes while still in bed - and have aides supply him with news about the individuals present so that he could ask a nobleman how his sick brother was doing, congratulate him on the marriage of his son, and otherwise make it appear as though he had a near-encyclopedic knowledge of everything that was going on in Corsica down to the most remote pieve.

Once the general audience was concluded, the king would go to the adjacent royal chapel and take mass, joined by his family, the grand almoner, and any church prelates who happened to be present. He would then come back through the sala maggiore (as the court bowed again) and withdraw to the antechamber to conduct private audiences. Those hoping for such an audience would stand outside the door, waiting to be called in, while the rest of the court would mingle and converse outside. When the king was finished, the end of the alba would be announced and the sala maggiore would be cleared.

The king would then exit the royal apartments and descend to the sala del vicariato (“Hall of the Vicariate,” which retained its name from the Genoese era when it was the office of the vice-regent), directly below the sala maggiore, where he would attend the daily meeting of the Council of State. If the king chose not to attend - which usually happened when he wanted to get an early start on hunting - it would be presided over by the Grand Chancellor in his capacity as vice-president of the council. Typically all of this business was completed by midday, after which the king ate dinner (that is, lunch) and was then free for the rest of the day to hunt, ride, or do whatever else he pleased. Unlike at Versailles there was no coucher, the evening equivalent of the morning ceremony; one was quite enough.

For those attending court, the alba lasted from well before the king made his entrance (as all were expected to be present and ready when he entered the hall) until the king’s officials declared the end of the audience and cleared the hall. At this point the court descended the horseshoe staircase to the courtyard, where they might linger and converse. Gentlemen might leave the palace grounds and proceed to a salon or coffeehouse to continue their conversations, while ladies would usually return directly to apartments or boarding houses in the city which catered to visiting notables. On some days court attendees might be invited to reconvene at the sala maggiore later in the day for a concert, play, or any other entertainment which was on offer. This was usually presided over by the queen as the king was typically out for the afternoon.

The full ceremony only played out when the monarch was actually present, which was not always the case. Federico scarcely ever left Bastia after becoming king except to attend the consulta generale, but his son was an avid traveler who enjoyed surveying the realm from horseback. Theodore I had established two other royal residences, the Augustinian Palace at Ajaccio and the Villetta Reale at Corti, but the former was in a lamentably poor state by 1780 and the latter was a glorified cottage seldom used for anything other than the royal visit to the consulta.

King Federico added only one property to this list, a block-shaped three story building just outside Cervioni which had originally been built as a watermill and became known as la Fontanone (“the Fountain”). Like the Villetta Reale in Corti, la Fontantone was intended to be a modest royal apartment for the king’s use when attending ceremonies at Cervioni and the vale of Alesani (specifically, coronations and state funerals). Theodore II used it during his coronation and visited it several times on hunting trips, but in 1781 he gave it to Princess Carina for her own personal use. The princess resided here whenever she was not attending court or on some expedition, and in her later years she lived at "the Fountain" more or less permanently. The princess renovated it to her own tastes, and it acquired a somewhat mysterious reputation - a gabled chateau secluded in the trees above Cervioni, draped in flowers and ivy, accessible only by an old Genoese bridge over a rushing torrent, inhabited by the princess, her horses, a few servants, and a very noisy colony of peacocks.


SXFgSNA.png

The Forest of Sorba


For court functions there was no alternative to Bastia until the initial construction of the Reggia di Noceta. Theo enjoyed hunting in the forest of Sorba, located in central Corsica in the pieve of Rogna, and had built a modest wooden hunting lodge near the tiny village of Noceta in 1779. Despite appearing quite secluded, however, it was conveniently close to the Via Nazionale and only eight miles south of Corti, and Theo arranged for the lodge to be replaced with a two-story stone building which would serve not only as a royal residence during the king’s hunting trips but a small “summer palace” which would be more commodious than the Villetta Reale in Corti. Completed in 1787, this initial building - more would come later - had a semicircular portico with columns of green and white Restonica marble, the first example of Corsican Neoclassical architecture. The palace had a sala maggiore of its own, allowing the alba to be conducted here when the king was in residence. Although initially much smaller than the Reggia di Bastia, the Noceta palace was augmented and renovated many times during the lives of Theo and his successors and would eventually surpass the Palace of the Governors in size.

While Bastia remained the center of court life, its suitability as the kingdom’s capital was gradually coming under more and more scrutiny. Bastia owed its present distinction mainly to inertia, and there were numerous deficiencies with the site. It had a small and inadequate harbor, was bordered by malarial marshland to the south, and was poorly situated for defense either by land or by sea. During the Coral War the king had been able to watch the Grande Armamento through his bedroom window, and the possibility of the king and his family being directly threatened by a hostile fleet was not at all outside the realm of possibility. Bastia’s northern position was conveniently located for communication with Italy but was prejudiced against the participation of southerners in government and court, a problem which would only become more acute towards the end of the century.

None of this was new information, but until the 1780s there had simply been no suitable alternative. Ajaccio was too isolated from the north, which was where most Corsicans lived. Corti was centrally located but barely a city at all, with few amenities and far from the coastal presidi which were the kingdom’s gateways to the outside world. Cervioni, the kingdom’s first capital, was well-situated on the doorstep of the kingdom’s Castagniccian heartland but was even smaller than Corti and had no port. Only Bastia had an actual palace worthy of the name, and the crown’s resources had never been great enough to consider building a new one.

From the 1780s, however, Theo began to seriously consider the possibility of relocating elsewhere - specifically, to Ajaccio. The king had always favored the city since his youthful days visiting his grand-uncle at the Augustinian Palace and “holding court” there as crown prince during the 1770s. The growth of the coral industry and the foundation of the Royal Bank of Ajaccio had established the city as the commercial capital of the kingdom, and it was already on the verge of surpassing Bastia as the largest city on the island. Rather than being hemmed in by mountains and marshes, Ajaccio had some room to expand, although it did have water supply issues that needed to be addressed. Ajaccio was blessed with a fine natural harbor, and the completion of the Via Nazionale in 1788 made reaching the city much less difficult for northerners.

The growing resources of the crown also meant that replacing the Reggia di Bastia was now actually possible to imagine. The Augustinian Palace, a converted seminary, was not really suitable; not only did this coastal building share the same vulnerability as the Palace of the Governors, but it was too small, in a poor state of repair, and lacked the appropriate architecture for court functions.[5] Theo began envisioning a new residence which would actually be built for purpose, located not in the city itself but amidst the sunny and fertile land around Ajaccio where he could surround himself with gardens and orchards that could not be realized in either the urban center of Bastia or the pine forests around Noceta. In the early 19th century this vision would eventually be made reality in the form of “Cortenovo,” the greatest example of Corsican Neoclassicism, which would finally replace the Reggia di Bastia as the primary seat of King Theodore II and his successors.[6][A] This was accomplished only in the face of considerable political opposition; it was in the interest of the northeastern nobility that the court remain permanently on their doorstep, to say nothing of the artisans and businessmen whose livings depended substantially on the operations of the royal household and the needs of its attending courtiers. Yet these entrenched interests were ultimately unable to hold back the wishes of a monarch who possessed both the motivation and the means to alter the political geography of the kingdom to his own purpose.


Footnotes
[1] References to the palazzo dei governatori continue to appear for years after Corsican independence even though there were no longer any “governors” there. Officially it was known as il palazzo reale di Bastia (“the royal palace of Bastia”) but was more often referred to as la reggia (also meaning “the royal [palace],” from the Latin regia, “royal”). Not until the 19th century was the term reggia used more generically to refer to any “major” residence of the king, of which there were three during the reign of Theodore II: the Reggia di Bastia, the Reggia di Noceta, and the Reggia Cortenovo (or simply Cortenovo).
[2] The Constitution of 1736 mandated that three members of the 24-person dieta, two northerners and one southerner, “must always reside in the Court of the Sovereign.” These men were known as delegati residenti (delegates-resident) or simply residenti. Customarily this duty was handled with a shift system, called the rota, in which the dieta was divided into eight terzine (“tercets”) of two northerners and one southerner each, and each terzina spent one-eighth of the year at court, or about 45 days. The dieta, however, could constitute itself at any time and usually did so at Bastia, so members might have to travel even outside of their scheduled rota period.
[3] One of the privileges given to Knights of the Military Order of the Redemption was the right to attend the king in his forechamber, so there might be a handful of decorated military men present as well.
[4] It was standard practice that the diplomat of a prince ought to be afforded equal precedence to the prince he represented, and thus envoys came before any of the nobility regardless of their own noble title.
[5] Theo would eventually donate the Augustinian Palace to the government, which would renovate and reopen it as the Royal Theodoran University of Ajaccio.
[6] Cortenovo means “new court,” which is both a literal description of the palace’s purpose and also a direct translation of Neuhoff.

Timeline Notes
[A] We will regrettably not see Cortenovo take shape ITTL, although I have some ideas about location and layout that might show up in some epilogue post. In proper modern Italian it would be Cortenuovo, but “-novo” is used here as a deliberate Latinism/archaicism. The loss of the diphthong is also common among Tuscan dialects, including Corsican (in which “new” is novu).
First of all that was a super interesting read, but i do have a question: What is the status of the Corsican language, cause we saw here that French was replaced as the language of the court by what I assume was a standardised form of Italian, but Corsica's sociolinguistic landscape in the 17th and 18th century was quite exempt of the influence of standard Italian, surprisingly (as standard Italian was based off of Tuscan, a sister language of Corsican), matter of fact the language of the coastal bourgeoisie tended to be local variants of Genoese. French was seeping its way into the coastal nobility (before the French takeover that amounted really to a handful of people, not more than one or two hundreds, but would've continued onwards likely), but the language of most of the landowners and lower bourgeoisie was Corsican, and OTL, most political activity used Corsican until like late 1796 when the campaigns to promote the use of French reached the island.
 
In the Court of the Laurel King


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Villa "La Fontanone" on the hillside above Cervioni


Theodore I had many capitals over the course of his reign. During the Revolution the king had established his chief residence at Cervioni, but subsequently moved to Vescovato, Corti, and finally Bastia over the course of the war. After 1749 the king moved between Bastia, Corti, and Ajaccio depending on his needs and whims, but the growth of the Corsican administration and his own family made this roaming less and less practical. Theodore personally preferred Ajaccio and settled permanently at the Augustinian Palace during his later years, but by this time the government and Theodore’s extended family had settled at the Palace of the Governors in Bastia, which offered the best amenities and swift communication with the Italian mainland.[1] Under King Federico Bastia’s supremacy was confirmed, and the king rarely left the city except to attend the consulta generale in Corti.

Wherever the king was, poor infrastructure and economic constraints meant that attending him in person was a significant undertaking for many Corsicans. While a few southern sgio were true rentiers, living a quasi-feudal existence on their lands worked by sharecroppers or laborers, many "elites," noble or otherwise, were little more than independent smallholders (proprietari) who could not afford to leave their lands for long periods of time. While procuratori only needed to attend one assembly a year, the members of the dieta had to “reside in the court of the sovereign” for at least 6 weeks during their annual term,[2] and a secretary or minister of state had to reside at Bastia for most of the year. These positions were all stipendiary, but still required the men who held these offices to abandon fields, orchards, families, and communal obligations for longer than many were willing to accept. This was not only a formidable obstacle to constructing a full-time national administration, but hampered the development of a “national” aristocracy of the sort that had been constituted at Versailles, the royal court par excellence which had served to concentrate the French nobility permanently under the watchful eye of le Roi Soleil.

The “court” of Bastia was not a permanent assembly of the nobility, but a seasonally rotating cast of characters who might show up for only a few months, weeks, or even days before making their way back to the provinces for the rest of the year. The court had a seasonal ebb and flow: Attendance was low during the summer harvest, then spiked in early September as many dignitaries who had already made the effort to travel to the consulta generale chose to add Bastia to their itinerary, then fell again as winter snows made travel more difficult, and finally evened out in the spring. Some nobles might not make the trip at all, or only show up every few years to remind the king of their existence. Northerners were overrepresented for reasons of simple geography, compounding their already considerable numerical advantage.

The difference in attendance between men and women was also significant. Notwithstanding the frequent presence of women in local elections, most Corsicans considered national politics to be “men’s business,” and visitors to court often left their wives at home to tend to domestic affairs and agricultural labor in their absence. Just as there were few “men of leisure” in Corsica, there were few women of leisure; there was no sense that a woman ought to be exempted from domestic chores merely because one addressed her as signora. Many considered travel to be too difficult or undignified for women, and provincial noblemen were sometimes concerned that the journey to Bastia - or the court itself - might endanger the honor and virtue of their female relations, particularly if they were expected to remain at Bastia for some time. It was always difficult for Corsican queens to find well-bred ladies-in-waiting to attend to them because very few Corsican families were willing to send young, unmarried women far away from the direct supervision of their fathers and brothers.

The court protocol of Bastia was very loosely based on that of Versailles, which was the royal court Theodore I had been most familiar with, albeit in a form so reduced and simplified as to be almost unrecognizable. The premier event of the day was the morning ceremony or lever (“to rise” in French), although after King Theodore II “Italianized” court protocol in the 1790s it became known as the alba (“dawn”). Unlike at Versailles there was no petit lever, the ceremonial intrusion into the king’s private chambers in which select members of court would witness him be dressed and groomed. Theodore I had valued his privacy, and the Corsicans would probably have found such an indiscreet display embarrassing and bizarre. After rising, dressing, and grooming with the help of his private staff, the king would usually have a light breakfast and then proceed to the antechamber, or living room.

In the antechamber the king would be attended by his “familiars:” the court marshal (maresciallo di corte), the chamberlain (gran cameriere), the high steward (gran maggiordomo), the grand chancellor, the grand almoner, the three delegati residenti (resident members of the dieta), and a few other intimates.[3] His wife would also join him at this stage; they had separate bedrooms and living rooms and would usually go through their respective morning routines separately, not seeing each other until the queen arrived at the king’s antechamber already in full court dress. For anyone else, being summoned to the antechamber along with the familiari was a rare honor. Here, the king would go over the day’s plans with his household officials, read letters, and discuss any preliminary business that was not appropriate for the general audience.

After this the king would proceed to the sala maggiore (great hall), where the rest of the court would already be gathered. A coronet of the Guardia Nobile would announce “messieurs et mesdames, le Roi” (from the 1790s, “signori e signore, il Re”) and the attendees would bow while the king took his throne. If the queen was present, she would then take her seat beside him. The chamberlain would then ring a silver bell to mark the beginning of the general audience, and the attendees were announced and presented themselves before the throne in order of precedence. Members of the royal family came first, followed by foreign envoys,[4] and then the Corsican nobility in order - knights of the Order of Redemption, marquesses, counts, hereditary knights, catenati, and finally untitled nobility (e.g. the son of a nobleman, addressed as don but not yet a knight/count/marquis).

As each dignitary was introduced, they would step before the dais, bow to the king, and exclaim “votre sérénissime majesté”/“vostra serenissima maestà” (“your most serene majesty”). If he chose, the king could take the opportunity to exchange a few words with them. Unlike his father, who rarely spoke during this procession, Theo relished the chance to “perform” as king. Each day he would read over the list of attendees prior to the audience - sometimes while still in bed - and have aides supply him with news about the individuals present so that he could ask a nobleman how his sick brother was doing, congratulate him on the marriage of his son, and otherwise make it appear as though he had a near-encyclopedic knowledge of everything that was going on in Corsica down to the most remote pieve.

Once the general audience was concluded, the king would go to the adjacent royal chapel and take mass, joined by his family, the grand almoner, and any church prelates who happened to be present. He would then come back through the sala maggiore (as the court bowed again) and withdraw to the antechamber to conduct private audiences. Those hoping for such an audience would stand outside the door, waiting to be called in, while the rest of the court would mingle and converse outside. When the king was finished, the end of the alba would be announced and the sala maggiore would be cleared.

The king would then exit the royal apartments and descend to the sala del vicariato (“Hall of the Vicariate,” which retained its name from the Genoese era when it was the office of the vice-regent), directly below the sala maggiore, where he would attend the daily meeting of the Council of State. If the king chose not to attend - which usually happened when he wanted to get an early start on hunting - it would be presided over by the Grand Chancellor in his capacity as vice-president of the council. Typically all of this business was completed by midday, after which the king ate dinner (that is, lunch) and was then free for the rest of the day to hunt, ride, or do whatever else he pleased. Unlike at Versailles there was no coucher, the evening equivalent of the morning ceremony; one was quite enough.

For those attending court, the alba lasted from well before the king made his entrance (as all were expected to be present and ready when he entered the hall) until the king’s officials declared the end of the audience and cleared the hall. At this point the court descended the horseshoe staircase to the courtyard, where they might linger and converse. Gentlemen might leave the palace grounds and proceed to a salon or coffeehouse to continue their conversations, while ladies would usually return directly to apartments or boarding houses in the city which catered to visiting notables. On some days court attendees might be invited to reconvene at the sala maggiore later in the day for a concert, play, or any other entertainment which was on offer. This was usually presided over by the queen as the king was typically out for the afternoon.

The full ceremony only played out when the monarch was actually present, which was not always the case. Federico scarcely ever left Bastia after becoming king except to attend the consulta generale, but his son was an avid traveler who enjoyed surveying the realm from horseback. Theodore I had established two other royal residences, the Augustinian Palace at Ajaccio and the Villetta Reale at Corti, but the former was in a lamentably poor state by 1780 and the latter was a glorified cottage seldom used for anything other than the royal visit to the consulta.

King Federico added only one property to this list, a block-shaped three story building just outside Cervioni which had originally been built as a watermill and became known as la Fontanone (“the Fountain”). Like the Villetta Reale in Corti, la Fontantone was intended to be a modest royal apartment for the king’s use when attending ceremonies at Cervioni and the vale of Alesani (specifically, coronations and state funerals). Theodore II used it during his coronation and visited it several times on hunting trips, but in 1781 he gave it to Princess Carina for her own personal use. The princess resided here whenever she was not attending court or on some expedition, and in her later years she lived at "the Fountain" more or less permanently. The princess renovated it to her own tastes, and it acquired a somewhat mysterious reputation - a gabled chateau secluded in the trees above Cervioni, draped in flowers and ivy, accessible only by an old Genoese bridge over a rushing torrent, inhabited by the princess, her horses, a few servants, and a very noisy colony of peacocks.


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The Forest of Sorba


For court functions there was no alternative to Bastia until the initial construction of the Reggia di Noceta. Theo enjoyed hunting in the forest of Sorba, located in central Corsica in the pieve of Rogna, and had built a modest wooden hunting lodge near the tiny village of Noceta in 1779. Despite appearing quite secluded, however, it was conveniently close to the Via Nazionale and only eight miles south of Corti, and Theo arranged for the lodge to be replaced with a two-story stone building which would serve not only as a royal residence during the king’s hunting trips but a small “summer palace” which would be more commodious than the Villetta Reale in Corti. Completed in 1787, this initial building - more would come later - had a semicircular portico with columns of green and white Restonica marble, the first example of Corsican Neoclassical architecture. The palace had a sala maggiore of its own, allowing the alba to be conducted here when the king was in residence. Although initially much smaller than the Reggia di Bastia, the Noceta palace was augmented and renovated many times during the lives of Theo and his successors and would eventually surpass the Palace of the Governors in size.

While Bastia remained the center of court life, its suitability as the kingdom’s capital was gradually coming under more and more scrutiny. Bastia owed its present distinction mainly to inertia, and there were numerous deficiencies with the site. It had a small and inadequate harbor, was bordered by malarial marshland to the south, and was poorly situated for defense either by land or by sea. During the Coral War the king had been able to watch the Grande Armamento through his bedroom window, and the possibility of the king and his family being directly threatened by a hostile fleet was not at all outside the realm of possibility. Bastia’s northern position was conveniently located for communication with Italy but was prejudiced against the participation of southerners in government and court, a problem which would only become more acute towards the end of the century.

None of this was new information, but until the 1780s there had simply been no suitable alternative. Ajaccio was too isolated from the north, which was where most Corsicans lived. Corti was centrally located but barely a city at all, with few amenities and far from the coastal presidi which were the kingdom’s gateways to the outside world. Cervioni, the kingdom’s first capital, was well-situated on the doorstep of the kingdom’s Castagniccian heartland but was even smaller than Corti and had no port. Only Bastia had an actual palace worthy of the name, and the crown’s resources had never been great enough to consider building a new one.

From the 1780s, however, Theo began to seriously consider the possibility of relocating elsewhere - specifically, to Ajaccio. The king had always favored the city since his youthful days visiting his grand-uncle at the Augustinian Palace and “holding court” there as crown prince during the 1770s. The growth of the coral industry and the foundation of the Royal Bank of Ajaccio had established the city as the commercial capital of the kingdom, and it was already on the verge of surpassing Bastia as the largest city on the island. Rather than being hemmed in by mountains and marshes, Ajaccio had some room to expand, although it did have water supply issues that needed to be addressed. Ajaccio was blessed with a fine natural harbor, and the completion of the Via Nazionale in 1788 made reaching the city much less difficult for northerners.

The growing resources of the crown also meant that replacing the Reggia di Bastia was now actually possible to imagine. The Augustinian Palace, a converted seminary, was not really suitable; not only did this coastal building share the same vulnerability as the Palace of the Governors, but it was too small, in a poor state of repair, and lacked the appropriate architecture for court functions.[5] Theo began envisioning a new residence which would actually be built for purpose, located not in the city itself but amidst the sunny and fertile land around Ajaccio where he could surround himself with gardens and orchards that could not be realized in either the urban center of Bastia or the pine forests around Noceta. In the early 19th century this vision would eventually be made reality in the form of “Cortenovo,” the greatest example of Corsican Neoclassicism, which would finally replace the Reggia di Bastia as the primary seat of King Theodore II and his successors.[6][A] This was accomplished only in the face of considerable political opposition; it was in the interest of the northeastern nobility that the court remain permanently on their doorstep, to say nothing of the artisans and businessmen whose livings depended substantially on the operations of the royal household and the needs of its attending courtiers. Yet these entrenched interests were ultimately unable to hold back the wishes of a monarch who possessed both the motivation and the means to alter the political geography of the kingdom to his own purpose.


Footnotes
[1] References to the palazzo dei governatori continue to appear for years after Corsican independence even though there were no longer any “governors” there. Officially it was known as il palazzo reale di Bastia (“the royal palace of Bastia”) but was more often referred to as la reggia (also meaning “the royal [palace],” from the Latin regia, “royal”). Not until the 19th century was the term reggia used more generically to refer to any “major” residence of the king, of which there were three during the reign of Theodore II: the Reggia di Bastia, the Reggia di Noceta, and the Reggia Cortenovo (or simply Cortenovo).
[2] The Constitution of 1736 mandated that three members of the 24-person dieta, two northerners and one southerner, “must always reside in the Court of the Sovereign.” These men were known as delegati residenti (delegates-resident) or simply residenti. Customarily this duty was handled with a shift system, called the rota, in which the dieta was divided into eight terzine (“tercets”) of two northerners and one southerner each, and each terzina spent one-eighth of the year at court, or about 45 days. The dieta, however, could constitute itself at any time and usually did so at Bastia, so members might have to travel even outside of their scheduled rota period.
[3] One of the privileges given to Knights of the Military Order of the Redemption was the right to attend the king in his forechamber, so there might be a handful of decorated military men present as well.
[4] It was standard practice that the diplomat of a prince ought to be afforded equal precedence to the prince he represented, and thus envoys came before any of the nobility regardless of their own noble title.
[5] Theo would eventually donate the Augustinian Palace to the government, which would renovate and reopen it as the Royal Theodoran University of Ajaccio.
[6] Cortenovo means “new court,” which is both a literal description of the palace’s purpose and also a direct translation of Neuhoff.

Timeline Notes
[A] We will regrettably not see Cortenovo take shape ITTL, although I have some ideas about location and layout that might show up in some epilogue post. In proper modern Italian it would be Cortenuovo, but “-novo” is used here as a deliberate Latinism/archaicism. The loss of the diphthong is also common among Tuscan dialects, including Corsican (in which “new” is novu).
Fontanone in italian properly translates as great fountain/big fountain.
 
Only some linguistic nitpicking. "LA Fontanone" sounds odd in Italian. While "fontana" is feminine, its accrescitive, "fontanone", is considered masculine as gramatical gender goes. So "IL Fontanone", although "villa" is on its own a feminine word.
As for "signori e signore", the usual norm in Italian is the contrary. "Signore e signori", ladies having precedence for reasons of chivalry, I think this was probably true even before the 1800s.
 
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Thank you for the update. A good New Years present.

I like this. Makes me think of how Philadelphia and, to a slightly lesser extent, New York City were kind of proto-capitals of the US before a new one was constructed. In this case, Ajaccio, based on its location and resources, is finally able to take the role. And there is enough space that Theodore II feels he can built a palace for himself. It does make sense getting into this area would be beyond the current scope of the timeline. Still, I found this all very interesting.
 
Only some linguistic nitpicking. "LA Fontanone" sounds odd in Italiana, While "fontana" is feminine, its accrescitive, "fontanone", is considered masculine as gramatical gender goes. So "IL Fontanone", although "villa" is on its own a feminine word.
As for "signori e signore", the usual norm in Italian is the contrary. "Signore e e signori", ladies having precedence for reasons of chivalry, I think this was probably true even before the 1800s.
I confirm. Also why is it "Cortenovo" and not "Cortenova"? "Corte" (court) is feminine in Italian.
 
I'm sad that we're coming to the end of the TL.

Carp, when you do finish it up, you should absolutely submit it to Sea Lion Press. This is worthy of publication.
 
Sad we won't get to see the new courts in action. But great to know that Corsicas time as being a broke kingdom is ending and it will have its own palaces purpose built for their kings. Ajaccio becoming the capital is also great, it was likely going to happen sooner or later. Given Ajaccios fast growth already, with it becoming the capital of the kingdom and having a new residence for the king. Can we expect the city to swell in size even more with the presumed investments in infrastructure and other public works that would likely come with the king moving there? Could we see it growing to perhaps 12,000 individuals by 1800? Will Ajaccio eventually be renovated as a whole and rebuilt with new roads, stone buildings and a port expansion? Will the Jewish community help here as well? How much is Corti likely to grow since it's near the summer residence of the king and now has the national road connecting Bastia and Ajaccio running through it, making it a natural nexus of the highlands? Finally with the kingdom gaining financial footing, will we see royal projects to drain the malaria ridden marshes to open them for settlement and development? Is a Corsican population boom fated to happen towards the end of Theos reign?
 
Each day he would read over the list of attendees prior to the audience - sometimes while still in bed - and have aides supply him with news about the individuals present so that he could ask a nobleman how his sick brother was doing, congratulate him on the marriage of his son, and otherwise make it appear as though he had a near-encyclopedic knowledge of everything that was going on in Corsica down to the most remote pieve.
Franklin Roosevelt had a similar arrangement, managed by his henchman James Farley. Robert Heinlein described it in his novel Double Star, where it is referred to as "the FarleyFile".
 
It's actually a really intelligent thing to do. People are going to be more predisposed towards Theo if he seems to have shown an interest in them.
 
Ah yes, the perils of an English-speaker dealing with Romance languages (and many others) - why does everything have to have a gender? Please excuse my errors, I will attempt to go back through the update and straighten things out soon.

First of all that was a super interesting read, but i do have a question: What is the status of the Corsican language, cause we saw here that French was replaced as the language of the court by what I assume was a standardised form of Italian, but Corsica's sociolinguistic landscape in the 17th and 18th century was quite exempt of the influence of standard Italian, surprisingly (as standard Italian was based off of Tuscan, a sister language of Corsican), matter of fact the language of the coastal bourgeoisie tended to be local variants of Genoese. French was seeping its way into the coastal nobility (before the French takeover that amounted really to a handful of people, not more than one or two hundreds, but would've continued onwards likely), but the language of most of the landowners and lower bourgeoisie was Corsican, and OTL, most political activity used Corsican until like late 1796 when the campaigns to promote the use of French reached the island.

The common language of the Corsican kingdom is lingua Corsa - what we would today consider the "Corsican language." Around 90% of the population is rural, and they overwhelmingly speak in this manner. Critically, however, lingua Corsa is principally a spoken language, as those rural Corsicans are largely illiterate. Even many priests were illiterate in rural Corsica, so one can only imagine what the general rate of literacy was among the peasantry. As far as I can tell, actual literature written in lingua Corsa was extremely rare in the 18th century; the poetry of Guglielmu Guglielmi is often claimed to be the first surviving example of literature in lingua Corsa and he died in 1728, just a year before the start of the revolution.

The state's language of administration is Tuscan-Italian, which might also be described as "Pisan," "Florentine," or speaking/writing in Crusca (referring to the Accademia della Crusca of linguistics in Florence), which is extremely close to modern Italian. You can see this in an actual diploma by Theodore I which I posted earlier in the thread. When Corsican pupils at the island's religious schools (chiefly Jesuit and Franciscan) learn to read, this is the language they are being taught, and this is the language of public documents, royal edicts, and official records. It is also the language of commerce, particularly in Ajaccio and Bastia. My sense is that "Crusca" and "Corsa" are not really considered separate languages at this time; rather, Corsa is the regional dialect of the Corsican farmer, while Crusca is the "educated" dialect suitable for writing, technical purposes, and formal speech. You would certainly hear people speaking various dialects of lingua Corsa at the consulta generale - indeed, most procurators would probably speak in this way, particularly those from the south where the linguistic divergence between the local dialect and Tuscan-Italian is more pronounced. Over time, however, there has been increasing social pressure for those with professional and political aspirations (that is, people who want to be taken seriously in a cultured and educated crowd) to speak in Crusca, and certainly to write that way.

ITTL, Theodore I introduced French as the "language of court." Arguably French was Theodore's first language - although he was technically "German" in origin, French was common among the Westphalian nobility, his father served in the French army, his Jesuit tutors probably taught in French, and he was a page at Versailles. Had he not been forced to leave the country for his debts and ended up on his very odd career path, he may very well have lived his whole adult life in France and considered himself a Frenchman. Using French as the "court language" was not merely a matter of comfort, however - it was a means of maintaining the royal mystique and bolstering Theodore's image as an influential foreign nobleman who could win the Revolution on the diplomatic front. But because few Corsicans could actually speak French, its usage as a "court language" was always very shallow, restricted mainly to court terminology (like "lever"), titles of household offices, and various stock phrases, as if French was a sort of mystical incantation of royalty rather than an actual language of elite conversation. Even in the 1780s, when French is probably somewhat better known among the elite than it was in the 1730s, most people at court would probably be conversing with each other (and with the king) in Crusca (or, less optimally, in some form of lingua Corsa, as not all provincial noblemen have mastered the educated dialect). All Theodore II is really doing by "Italianizing" the court in the 1790s is purging these formal remnants of his grand-uncle's linguistic mystification; it's not actually a process of forcing people to stop using French, because not many noblemen would be speaking French anyway (and if any of them wanted to speak French at court, that would still be acceptable).

Undoubtedly the Ligurian language is still used in Corsica, although it is geographically limited to the coastal presidi and perhaps parts of Capocorso. As a language of commerce it is in the process of being replaced by Florentine-Italian, particularly in Bastia (because of its links with Livorno) and Ajaccio (because of the influence of Livornese Jews). There is no official effort to stamp out Ligurian and it's not in any immediate danger of extinction, being useful for northern sailors and traders who still do a lot of business with the Genoese. Nevertheless, it enjoys no official position and will probably continue to lose ground over the 19th century in favor of "administrative Italian" (i.e. Florentine).

My sense is that the use of lingua Corsa will probably decline over the 19th century as public schooling is introduced. The Corsican dialect is not perceived as a threat to the state or Corsica's national identity, but there will still be considerable social and official pressure for Corsicans to "speak properly" and "write properly" to participate in state administration and the broader Italian cultural world, which will inevitably mean speaking and writing in Crusca. Paradoxically the fate of lingua Corsa is probably worse ITTL than IOTL, as without the French conquest lingua Corsa is merely considered a rustic dialect rather than a national language embodying resistance to "foreign" hegemony. If Corsica is eventually annexed by a unified Italy ITTL, on the other land, lingua Corsa might make a comeback as a means of asserting Corsican regional identity against a centralizing Italian government.

Given Ajaccios fast growth already, with it becoming the capital of the kingdom and having a new residence for the king. Can we expect the city to swell in size even more with the presumed investments in infrastructure and other public works that would likely come with the king moving there? Could we see it growing to perhaps 12,000 individuals by 1800? Will Ajaccio eventually be renovated as a whole and rebuilt with new roads, stone buildings and a port expansion? Will the Jewish community help here as well? How much is Corti likely to grow since it's near the summer residence of the king and now has the national road connecting Bastia and Ajaccio running through it, making it a natural nexus of the highlands? Finally with the kingdom gaining financial footing, will we see royal projects to drain the malaria ridden marshes to open them for settlement and development? Is a Corsican population boom fated to happen towards the end of Theos reign?

The new palace hasn't even started construction in 1800 so that's not going to be a driver of population growth in the 1790s, but while 12,000 is an optimistic number it's not altogether unreasonable. As mentioned earlier in the thread, the city reached 14,000 people by the time the Gravona Canal started construction in the 1860s (and even that didn't really fix anything because the canal was used mainly for agricultural purposes, not drinking water). The city already has a rebuilt north-south boulevard (the modern-day cours Napoléon), but a reorganization of the old borgo (the Corsican "suburb" north of the citadel town) is badly needed and will probably be attempted soon.

No doubt Corti will benefit from being (roughly) the midpoint on the Via Nazionale, but it isn't exactly a "summer residence." While the Reggia di Noceta is only eight miles away, that's probably still 2+ hours in a coach, so the king is not necessarily going to be popping down there every day while in residence at Noceta. Still, it's close enough that the king might prefer to stay there during the consulta generale rather than the Villetta Reale, which is basically just a house that Theodore I bought and is becoming increasingly embarrassing as the royal family and household becomes larger and wealthier.
 
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Fair enough, I must've got confused and assumed that the new palace was built right after the one in Noceta. Still awesome though to see the Corsican kings achieving royal dignity
 
My sense is that the use of lingua Corsa will probably decline over the 19th century as public schooling is introduced. The Corsican dialect is not perceived as a threat to the state or Corsica's national identity, but there will still be considerable social and official pressure for Corsicans to "speak properly" and "write properly" to participate in state administration and the broader Italian cultural world, which will inevitably mean speaking and writing in Crusca. Paradoxically the fate of lingua Corsa is probably worse ITTL than IOTL, as without the French conquest lingua Corsa is merely considered a rustic dialect rather than a national language embodying resistance to "foreign" hegemony. If Corsica is eventually annexed by a unified Italy ITTL, on the other land, lingua Corsa might make a comeback as a means of asserting Corsican regional identity against a centralizing Italian government.
It's also possible that the Corsicans see themselves, through the rise of nationalism, as different enough from the mainland that they push the native Corsican hard to differentiate themselves.
 
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U Palazzo di Funtanone is a place I've wanted to do something with for a while now. It is indeed a former mill which was converted into a residence, supposedly by the family of General Jean-Baptiste Cervoni in the 19th century (although nobody seems to be certain exactly when this happened). The building is odd for a number of reasons - it is surprisingly large for a mill, and the pointed gables on the roof are apparently very unusual in Corsican architecture. It was abandoned for some years after 1940, during which it became overgrown by ivy and gained a mysterious reputation (allegedly the previous owners did engaged in some sort of "spiritualism" there). It was eventually bought and renovated by an organ-builder who turned two floors into a workshop; as of the last news articles I've seen on the structure, he and his wife are still the owners. The house has a vertical well that crosses through all the floors and descends into a large, vaulted stone basement which was "uncovered" during the tenure of the current owner. This was originally the mill reservoir, and was reported as being paved with flagstones "all marked with mysterious stone cutter signs." The Genoese-era bridge which used to access the house no longer exists, having been replaced with a concrete footbridge.

I have found no mention of it in the 18th century, although by the time Funtanone was turned into a residence in the 19th century it was already quite old and undoubtedly was around in Theodore's time. Historically Theodore took up residence in the bishop's house in Cervione (as the bishops had all fled the island), but ITTL that residence has since been returned to the bishop, requiring the king to find other accommodations when he's in town. This curious structure is too small to be a "proper" palace but it seemed like a good fit for a secluded royal apartment, and for Donna Carina in particular. One can only imagine what rumors the locals might circulate about la Colonella and her strange mansion on the edge of town. What does she keep in that huge basement?
 
One can only hope that some of Theo II's children continue the legacy of Theodore and Donna Carina of being Big Weirdos(tm) immersed in deliberately cultivated mystery and witty and sometimes esoteric intellectual forays.
 
It's also possible that the Corsicans see themselves, through the rise of nationalism, as different enough from the mainland that they push the native Corsican hard to differentiate themselves.
Ah yes, the perils of an English-speaker dealing with Romance languages (and many others) - why does everything have to have a gender? Please excuse my errors, I will attempt to go back through the update and straighten things out soon.



The common language of the Corsican kingdom is lingua Corsa - what we would today consider the "Corsican language." Around 90% of the population is rural, and they overwhelmingly speak in this manner. Critically, however, lingua Corsa is principally a spoken language, as those rural Corsicans are largely illiterate. Even many priests were illiterate in rural Corsica, so one can only imagine what the general rate of literacy was among the peasantry. As far as I can tell, actual literature written in lingua Corsa was extremely rare in the 18th century; the poetry of Guglielmu Guglielmi is often claimed to be the first surviving example of literature in lingua Corsa and he died in 1728, just a year before the start of the revolution.

The state's language of administration is Tuscan-Italian, which might also be described as "Pisan," "Florentine," or speaking/writing in Crusca (referring to the Accademia della Crusca of linguistics in Florence), which is extremely close to modern Italian. You can see this in an actual diploma by Theodore I which I posted earlier in the thread. When Corsican pupils at the island's religious schools (chiefly Jesuit and Franciscan) learn to read, this is the language they are being taught, and this is the language of public documents, royal edicts, and official records. It is also the language of commerce, particularly in Ajaccio and Bastia. My sense is that "Crusca" and "Corsa" are not really considered separate languages at this time; rather, Corsa is the regional dialect of the Corsican farmer, while Crusca is the "educated" dialect suitable for writing, technical purposes, and formal speech. You would certainly hear people speaking various dialects of lingua Corsa at the consulta generale - indeed, most procurators would probably speak in this way, particularly those from the south where the linguistic divergence between the local dialect and Tuscan-Italian is more pronounced. Over time, however, there has been increasing social pressure for those with professional and political aspirations (that is, people who want to be taken seriously in a cultured and educated crowd) to speak in Crusca, and certainly to write that way.

ITTL, Theodore I introduced French as the "language of court." Arguably French was Theodore's first language - although he was technically "German" in origin, French was common among the Westphalian nobility, his father served in the French army, his Jesuit tutors probably taught in French, and he was a page at Versailles. Had he not been forced to leave the country for his debts and ended up on his very odd career path, he may very well have lived his whole adult life in France and considered himself a Frenchman. Using French as the "court language" was not merely a matter of comfort, however - it was a means of maintaining the royal mystique and bolstering Theodore's image as an influential foreign nobleman who could win the Revolution on the diplomatic front. But because few Corsicans could actually speak French, its usage as a "court language" was always very shallow, restricted mainly to court terminology (like "lever"), titles of household offices, and various stock phrases, as if French was a sort of mystical incantation of royalty rather than an actual language of elite conversation. Even in the 1780s, when French is probably somewhat better known among the elite than it was in the 1730s, most people at court would probably be conversing with each other (and with the king) in Crusca (or, less optimally, in some form of lingua Corsa, as not all provincial noblemen have mastered the educated dialect). All Theodore II is really doing by "Italianizing" the court in the 1790s is purging these formal remnants of his grand-uncle's linguistic mystification; it's not actually a process of forcing people to stop using French, because not many noblemen would be speaking French anyway (and if any of them wanted to speak French at court, that would still be acceptable).

Undoubtedly the Ligurian language is still used in Corsica, although it is geographically limited to the coastal presidi and perhaps parts of Capocorso. As a language of commerce it is in the process of being replaced by Florentine-Italian, particularly in Bastia (because of its links with Livorno) and Ajaccio (because of the influence of Livornese Jews). There is no official effort to stamp out Ligurian and it's not in any immediate danger of extinction, being useful for northern sailors and traders who still do a lot of business with the Genoese. Nevertheless, it enjoys no official position and will probably continue to lose ground over the 19th century in favor of "administrative Italian" (i.e. Florentine).

My sense is that the use of lingua Corsa will probably decline over the 19th century as public schooling is introduced. The Corsican dialect is not perceived as a threat to the state or Corsica's national identity, but there will still be considerable social and official pressure for Corsicans to "speak properly" and "write properly" to participate in state administration and the broader Italian cultural world, which will inevitably mean speaking and writing in Crusca. Paradoxically the fate of lingua Corsa is probably worse ITTL than IOTL, as without the French conquest lingua Corsa is merely considered a rustic dialect rather than a national language embodying resistance to "foreign" hegemony. If Corsica is eventually annexed by a unified Italy ITTL, on the other land, lingua Corsa might make a comeback as a means of asserting Corsican regional identity against a centralizing Italian government.



The new palace hasn't even started construction in 1800 so that's not going to be a driver of population growth in the 1790s, but while 12,000 is an optimistic number it's not altogether unreasonable. As mentioned earlier in the thread, the city reached 14,000 people by the time the Gravona Canal started construction in the 1860s (and even that didn't really fix anything because the canal was used mainly for agricultural purposes, not drinking water). The city already has a rebuilt north-south boulevard (the modern-day cours Napoléon), but a reorganization of the old borgo (the Corsican "suburb" north of the citadel town) is badly needed and will probably be attempted soon.

No doubt Corti will benefit from being (roughly) the midpoint on the Via Nazionale, but it isn't exactly a "summer residence." While the Reggia di Noceta is only eight miles away, that's probably still 2+ hours in a coach, so the king is not necessarily going to be popping down there every day while in residence at Noceta. Still, it's close enough that the king might prefer to stay there during the consulta generale rather than the Villetta Reale, which is basically just a house that Theodore I bought and is becoming increasingly embarrassing as the royal family and household becomes larger and wealthier.
thank you, very cool very cool. I would think that the Corsican bourgeoisie follow Italian nationalism like the Sardinian or Sicilian did. While they do have more unique cultures than the cultural continuum of the mainland, they remain out of these insular Italians, among the closest.
 
If Theo II has the capacity to build several new palaces, however small they might be by the standards of continental nobility never mind royalty, then I guess that the financial woes which caused the nation to suspend it's loans will disappear quite completely by the end of the century?
 
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