King Theodore's Corsica

[Carp]

This next update is difficult for me because it’s a major departure from OTL, and I’d like to talk about it a bit because it touches on an important issue that those of you who are new to the history of Theodore are probably unaware of: why he lost.

Those of you who guessed that Theodore is coming back in the near future are quite correct, although it wasn’t too difficult to figure out. In fact, Theodore came back around this time IOTL, on board a British ship. He even had guns and supplies, although probably not as much as he had brought with him to Corsica in 1736. The island was in a similar moment of unrest, if not quite as severe. It seemed like a perfect moment for a comeback.

But nothing happened. The Corsicans seemed indifferent to his return. A few leaders did comply with his orders to besiege Ajaccio, but not enough, and when d’Ornano decided to withhold his support the enterprise collapsed. Humiliated by this failure and despondent at the lack of enthusiasm from the Corsicans, Theodore left Corsica. Although he continued to advocate for Corsican independence for years afterwards, he never returned.

The “traditional” explanation for Theodore’s failure is that, in short, he was a charlatan. This was Theodore’s third attempted voyage to Corsica; the first time he had reigned for ~200 days and then fled, having won a few battles but failed to decisively defeat the Genoese. The second time was with the “syndicate fleet,” which failed because no payment had been arranged and the captains decided to sail for Naples instead. Since the very beginning, he had promised the world to the Corsicans - guns, money, international recognition, powerful allies - but constantly under-delivered. In the estimation of historians from the 19th century up to fairly recent times, Theodore was simply a con-man, and by 1743 the Corsicans were too wary of his game to be conned any more.

But this explanation is unsatisfying. In the first place, within months of Theodore’s humiliating departure in 1743, a consulta held by the new national government of Gaffori, Matra, and Venturini declared itself to be a “Regency” governing for Theodore, and a year later another national consulta once more affirmed the eternal loyalty of the rebels to the king. Obviously this “national” declaration didn’t include everybody, but even d’Ornano, whose narrow self-interest had killed Theodore’s prospects against Ajaccio in 1743, was a signatory. If the Corsicans had gotten wise to Theodore and thought him nothing more than a fraud, what were they doing proclaiming their loyalty to him and electing generals to rule as regents in his name? Some have argued that it was merely a negotiating tactic, a way to use Theodore as a bogeyman against the Genoese: “If you don’t give us better terms, we might just bring that Theodore fellow back!” Yet the Corsican leaders continued to be in communication with Theodore himself, and there’s plenty of evidence that he still exerted influence on them from abroad.

In my view, the best way to understand the Corsican rebellion is through the lens of sheer pragmatism. There aren’t a lot of starry-eyed, better-to-die-on-my-feet-than-live-on-my-knees nationalists in this story. The Corsicans had plenty of brave men, but most of them were fighting for their own advantages, not for the mere idea of a Corsican nation. They wanted real, concrete things like less exploitative taxes, and their leaders wanted power, influence, and autonomy for themselves and their clans. When Theodore arrived in 1736, Genoa’s offer on the table was no better than America’s offer to Japan in 1945 - surrender or be destroyed. The Genoese thought they had this thing in the bag, and they would soon be able to dictate whatever terms they wanted to the Corsicans. As such, it made sense to fight even if the odds looked grim, and to use whatever resources were presented to them. Was it all that strange to embrace this German baron as their king when the only alternative appeared to be abject surrender?

Things were different in 1743. The Corsicans now felt that they had the whip hand. Spinola was ever on the back foot and knew full well that he was just one major uprising away from a total collapse of Genoese authority. The Senate was desperate to compromise, and large swaths of the island were basically government-free zones without a soldier or taxman in sight. When Genoese were forced to evacuate the interior in the summer of 1743, you might have expected another massive uprising - but instead, having captured Corti, the rebel leaders decided that it was time to talk peace. They erected the “Regency” but resumed talks with the Genoese, simultaneously claiming to be ruling in Theodore’s name and yet stating openly that they would accept a return of Genoese sovereignty so long as the terms were good enough.

Thus, when Theodore arrived in early 1743 and urged the Corsicans to begin the war again, they balked. Here he was, the king-for-nine-months, offering only a few hundred muskets and some supplies. The deputies pointedly asked him whether the British fleet that had brought him was going to fight the Genoese. Theodore gave vague promises about foreign support, but the inevitable answer was “no,” because Britain and Genoa were not at war and would not be at war for more than two years. Theodore was no clown or pariah to the Corsicans; they wouldn’t have sent deputies to meet with him, nor later elected regents to rule in his name, had he been so. But they did realize that they had a strong negotiating position with the Genoese, and that to do what Theodore wanted - to go to back to war - would end those negotiations. All they would be left with was the hope of military victory, and how likely was that given Theodore’s previous track record and the absence of real foreign support?

Such is the situation in early 1743, and ITTL there are a fair number of similarities. Theodore is back (or will be soon), but while Britain will help him on the sly they’re not going to war yet. He’s got more resources than he did historically (as well as a regular battalion), but he’s still proposing war to a people who seem like they’re on the verge of getting a very favorable deal from peace.

So what are the differences? Well, for starters, Theodore’s reign. The “king for nine months” is, ITTL, a king for more than four years (albeit minus his excursion to Amsterdam partway through). It consisted of not merely a few skirmishes against the Genoese, but the capture of their capital and the defeat of French armies. A four year reign is not altogether ephemeral, and there is undoubtedly a sense among many Corsicans that they could have been independent but for the French invasion. Since the syndicate fleet actually worked ITTL, it also means Theodore made good at least once on his promise of massive foreign support, even if it wasn’t exactly the aid of a great power.

There’s Colonna and his battalion, of course, who were not a factor IOTL. There’s also Rauschenburg, who held out the entire time instead of being forced to surrender in 1740 - for him and his men, the war never ended, and even though his band of followers is fairly small he has a lot of respect in the interior. Neither Rauschenburg nor Colonna have much to gain from a negotiated peace, unlike d’Ornano, Matra, Gaffori, or other big chieftains who could very plausibly gain a lot from negotiations. And the Castagniccia is more violent than it was historically - Andergossen was cruelly murdered, and the Genoese were actually defeated at Morosaglia.

But is it enough? That’s the difficulty - how do you account for the changed perceptions of the Corsicans owing to Theodore’s longer and more successful reign? Does nationalism, at least for some of them, outweigh pragmatism? Or, if they are still driven mainly by pragmatic concerns, is Theodore’s better showing in 1736-1740 enough to convince them that war presents them with a better opportunity than peace?

That, anyway, is my thought process right now. I know where I want to go in a vague sense, but I’m still trying to work out exactly what path I want to take to get there.

So that’s how New Smyrna got its name.

Well, sort of. It was called New Smyrna because Turnbull had been a consul in Smyrna and it was the birthplace of his wife, who was the daughter of a Greek merchant. Turnbull’s Greek family connections were indeed one reason why he recruited a bunch of Greeks for his colony, but strictly speaking the colony was named because of his wife and her family, not for the Greek colonists themselves.

 

[frustrated progressive]

Florida has apparently always been crazy.
Love the explanation, @Carp

 

[Urcea]

But is it enough? That’s the difficulty - how do you account for the changed perceptions of the Corsicans owing to Theodore’s longer and more successful reign? Does nationalism, at least for some of them, outweigh pragmatism? Or, if they are still driven mainly by pragmatic concerns, is Theodore’s better showing in 1736-1740 enough to convince them that war presents them with a better opportunity than peace?

I will offer simply this - their inclination to negotiate may have been based on experience of what happened IOTL. In this, I have to wonder if they'd be so willing to negotiate - at the high water mark of Theodore's reign, the island was practically independent from Genoa save a few besieged cities down south and Capo Corso. True, there may be no Genoese authority in most places, but the inclination to negotiate would likely be diminished if they knew that, with some effort, they could establish themselves as political kingmakers (literally, in a way) apart from Genoese influence. They would know this, of course, because they had already done so prior to the French intervention.

 

[Carp]

The Last Gasp​

A 17th century view of Genoese Tabarka​

Theodore was still in Florence when he learned of Antonio Colonna-Bozzi’s capture of Porto Vecchio. The time now seemed ripe for a return, but he could not come empty-handed; although well-regarded by many Corsicans for his long and valiant struggle on their behalf, he understood very well that on Corsica loyalty was earned as much by guns and money as by reputation and that the Corsicans would not rally around the flag of a pauper with nothing to offer them but his charisma.

Fortunately, at the moment he was very far from being a pauper. He had raised a considerable amount of money for his ventures in Europe, largely from private loans. In Tuscany, he had taken yet more money from the Livornesi and English merchants. Some of this had been spent on equipping Colonna’s expedition, but there was still a significant remainder, and his prospects of raising more were looking up. As we have seen, the capture of Porto Vecchio did not have a strong and immediate effect on the strategic situation in Corsica, but it did give a strong boost to smugglers and merchants sailing out of Livorno, Naples, and even Genoa itself. Smuggling had restarted in earnest following the withdrawal of the French fleet a year previously, but with Porto Vecchio in rebel hands the smugglers now had a harbor where they could safely unload without fear of being chanced upon by Genoese patrol ships. Porto Vecchio was no Isola Rossa, and its hinterland was no Balagna. Nevertheless, the Dila too produced oil and wine, which was key to unlocking the syndicate’s money.

The thornier problem was that of transportation. After Colonna’s mutiny, not even the merchants who liked Theodore enough to lend him money were willing to take him, his followers, and his supplies to Corsica. The Austrian commander in charge of the Tuscan forces, Feldmarshall-Lieutenant Johann Ernst, Freiherr von Breitwitz, had impounded Colonna’s ships and arrested their crews upon their return. Although they had been quickly released - the British wouldn’t stand for it, and his own Austrian superiors were not about to have their alliance unraveled by Breitwitz’s tantrum - the English captains were not eager to repeat the experience. There were, of course, the small feluccas and barques that ran goods to and from the Corsican coast, but Theodore was averse to such conveyance for multiple reasons. Sneaking onto Corsica in a smuggler’s craft was not really the entrance Theodore wanted to make, having promised a grand return with foreign support. It was also quite dangerous, for if the craft were to be caught by the Genoese he would certainly be executed.

Although the Colonna incident had caused some embarrassment to the British, Theodore still enjoyed the support of Britain’s agents in Italy, in particular Ambassador Arthur Villettes at Turin and Consul Burrington Goldsworthy in Livorno. Goldsworthy, despite having taken much of the blame for the role of the English merchants in Colonna’s mutiny, was evidently still giving Theodore and his friends assistance. The British, however, were quite busy with running a war on limited resources, and it was not until December that a plan began to come together. Its mastermind was none other than Villettes himself, who arrived in Livorno on the recently-arrived Revenge, a 70-gun warship under the command of Captain George Berkeley, who knew Theodore from London and apparently had lent him some money. Villettes was ostensibly in town to assist in the coordination of the war effort and secure supplies for the British fleet at Villefranche, but he also arranged a series of meetings between himself, Theodore, Goldsworthy, and General Breitwitz on board the Revenge.

Scale model of the Revenge at the Royal Museum of Corsica

​

The summit was more productive than one might have anticipated. Breitwitz’s mood had improved with the onset of winter and the realization that the Spanish army would be spending it in Bologna, not Tuscany as he and his government had originally feared. Although still upset at being duped, he was not opposed to getting Theodore out of Tuscany; in fact he welcomed it, as he believed Theodore to be a troublemaker. Theodore had been gathering foreign recruits for his eventual return, and Breitwitz suspected him of suborning deserters from the Austrian and Tuscan armies. If Villettes was offering to remove him and his followers from Tuscany for good, Breitwitz would certainly not stand in his way.

Villettes’ plan was simple - a British warship would land Theodore and his goods on Corsica. This would ensure his safe arrival and would allow the British to observe firsthand whether he possessed the native support that he claimed to have. Villettes had no doubt that the Genoese would soon learn of this, but he was not terribly worried about diplomatic blowback. The ambassador knew that Genoa was powerless to do anything more than lodge official protests, because the republic feared Britain and knew a real war would result in the utter destruction of their trade by the British navy. The British themselves would not engage in any hostile action, nor would the government or the navy give so much as a shilling to the “malcontents;” they needed only to allow Theodore to disembark with his own supplies. As Villettes pointed out, Britain’s actions were no more flagrant than those of the Genoese, who had been unwisely testing both the limits of neutrality and the patience of Admiral Thomas Mathews for the past year. Mathews was not present for this discussion, but he and all the principals at Villettes’ conference, including Breitwitz, were upset at Genoa’s collusion with the enemy and had no real opposition to causing them harm.

Theodore deftly used this support to press the syndicate to release its funds. The partners had set aside 100,000 florins for his use, but most of the money (apart from a 5,000 florin advance) was being held to exchange for olive oil and other goods. Theodore knew that this was an unrealistic expectation; he had not even managed to meet the syndicate’s demands when he controlled Balagna and the Nebbio, and would certainly not be able to scrape together a hundred thousand florins worth of oil from Porto Vecchio. Instead he attempted to impress the syndicate’s agents into loaning him the money by producing selections of the minutes of his discussions with Villettes and Breitwitz, probably without their knowledge. He maintained that his venture now had the full support of the British and Austrian governments (which was not strictly true), and further proposed that as collateral for the loan he would put up Porto Vecchio itself, which once the war was over he could promise to the syndicate as a privileged port with extraterritorial rights. At length, and after some discussion with the partners back home, the syndicate agreed to advance him another 20,000 florins.

Captain Berkeley was willing to do the deed himself, and in short order his ship was loaded up with the royal cache. Theodore was be joined by around 40 Corsican exiles who at up to that point been residing in Livorno, and about as many foreigners - mostly Germans, Spaniards, and Italians, as well as a few Englishmen - who had joined Theodore’s service as soldiers and officers. On January 20th, despite poor weather, the Revenge sailed into the harbor of Porto Vecchio.

The British, however, were not the first foreigners to land there. In late November of 1742 a Tunisian xebec had sailed into the bay. The Corsicans were initially alarmed - the historical relations between the Corsicans and the Barbary states were, to put it mildly, not good - but it soon became clear that the men of Tunis were to there to trade, not to fight. Most importantly for Colonna, they came bearing grain and were offering it at surprisingly low prices. Although Colonna’s means were limited and the mercantile potential of Porto Vecchio at the moment was not great, Colonna was able to put his supply situation on a somewhat surer footing, while the soldiers and the citizens browsed among the traders’ other goods and trinkets.

A Barbary xebec off the Corsican coast​

The Tunisians had not merely come by chance, for the Bey of Tunis was flirting with a return to the pro-Corsican policy of his predecessor. In the years of preparation prior to his arrival in Corsica, Theodore had forged an alliance with Bey Husayn ibn Ali. The bey had given Theodore and Ripperda substantial amounts of money and armaments for their venture, on the understanding that a free Corsica would be good for Tunisian trade. In 1735, however, Husayn had been overthrown by his nephew Ali (better known as Ali Pasha, as he had been granted that title by the Ottoman Sultan in 1724), whose revolt was prompted by Husayn’s decision to displace him as his chosen successor in favor of Husayn’s own son Muhammad. In 1740, after half a decade of war, Husayn was captured and deprived of his head and Ali’s rule was finally secured. The nascent Corsican-Tunisian alliance appeared to be quite dead.

Ali Pasha’s ambition soon put him on a collision course with France. Even while the civil war was still ongoing Ali Pasha had occasionally clashed with the French, often on seemingly petty issues such as whether the French consul should be required to kiss his hand. The greatest point of contention, however, was the fortified island of Tabarka just off the northern Tunisian coast, a coral fishing outpost which had been held by the Genoese since 1541. Apart from Corsica and its outlying islands, Tabarka was the last vestige of the Genoese colonial empire. The troubles of the republic in the 1730s made the continued maintenance and defense of the island difficult to justify, and the newly founded French Companie Royale D’Afrique (chartered in February 1741) had approached the Genoese as to the possibility of a purchase. The Genoese certainly needed the cash and seemed receptive, but when Ali Pasha caught wind of the proposed sale he moved decisively to quash it. In June of 1741, his army attacked Tabarka, overwhelmed the defenses, and sold more than 800 Genoese prisoners into slavery. Shortly thereafter, the bey’s son Younis attacked and captured the nearby Companie Royale D’Afrique trading outpost at Cap Nègre.

War ensued. King Louis XV announced a total embargo on Tunisian goods and ordered a blockade, while Ali Pasha sent out his xebecs and galiots to harry French shipping and take slaves. A French squadron made an amphibious assault against Tabarka in June of 1742, but the operation was a miserable failure; of the 300 man landing force only 20 escaped alive. Most were taken prisoner, while the heads of the slain were put on spikes and displayed outside the French consulate. Although under other circumstances this act might have led to further escalation, in 1742 France was fully embroiled in a European war and feared the imminent entry of Britain into the conflict. It was simply not possible to continue prosecuting a war against Ali Pasha, and in November - the same month that the Tunisian ship arrived in Porto Vecchio - a treaty was signed. Ali Pasha proved an able negotiator, and knowing that France was under pressure to make peace he extracted every advantage he could. He restored the French trading privileges, but in exchange received the promise of tribute from the Companie Royale D’Afrique, the right to search French ships in his waters for runaway slaves, the release of all Tunisian galley slaves in the French navy, and a formal admission from Versailles that their consul in Tunis was indeed required to kiss the bey’s hand. Yet Ali knew that his advantage was only momentary, and once the European war was over the French might demand a “revision” of this humiliating treaty.

Under such circumstances, reaching out to his uncle’s old ally Theodore von Neuhoff made some sense. Ali Pasha was already considering an approach to the British, and in later years would even consider selling Tabarka to Britain as a counterweight to the French. In the meantime, the bey had learned of the landing at Porto Vecchio as well as reliable rumors that the Corsican rebels were British clients, or at least supported by Britain's government. Although Ali Pasha had no particular interest in Corsican liberty as such, he was obviously hostile to the Genoese (who got nothing at all out of the Franco-Tunisian treaty, and certainly not the return of Tabarka) and viewed any friends of the British as potential friends of his. Furthermore, while Corsica would never be a rich and powerful state, he suspected like his uncle before him that a friendly government in Corsica might be beneficial to his state’s mercantile and maritime interests. Tunisian ships both peaceful and piratical frequently used Corsican harbors, and many of the coral fishermen who had operated the Genoese concession were in fact Corsicans. Ali Pasha was not yet proposing an “alliance” as had notionally existed between Theodore and Ali’s predecessor Husayn, but there was no harm in passing some supplies to the rebels and keeping an eye out to see how the Corsican war progressed.

Theodore’s return to Corsica in 1743 was a rather more impressive entrance than his previous landings. He had a British warship at his back instead of a merchant’s pinque, and the uniformed Free Battalion was lined up to meet him (along with the gawking residents of the town, as it was the first time the king had ever visited Porto Vecchio). In his usual formal attire - the characteristic scarlet coat, “Turkish” robe, and plumed hat - Theodore disembarked from the boat and was welcomed by Colonel Colonna in his Tuscan uniform. If the spectacle was greater, however, the audience was not, as Colonna had more men in his battalion than the entire population of the town.

From Porto Vecchio, the king now dispatched rides bearing his royal decree to prominent commanders and clan leaders of the Dila. In grandiloquent prose, Theodore announced his return and bemoaned the injustices and usurpations of the Genoese. He further announced a general clemency for all those who had collaborated with the Genoese so long as they desisted in their support and returned to their “natural allegiance.” The leaders of the Dila were ordered to post the proclamation publicly, and many were summoned by name to Porto Vecchio to renew their oaths of allegiance to the king.

Colonna had not met with much success in rallying the leaders of the Dila to his side; Theodore did better, but only marginally. Complicating matters was the fact that it was the dead of winter in the Dila, a trackless and mountainous land, which made a timely arrival impossible for some and provided a good excuse for the rest. A few local magnates did arrive, and some others sent envoys of one sort or another, but the turnout was not what Theodore had hoped. This was doubly troubling for Theodore, as local support was necessary not only to help Colonna’s campaign continue, but to demonstrate to Captain Berkeley - and through him, Britain - that he enjoyed real support on Corsica and was not some mere pretender.

Berkeley remained at Porto Vecchio for six days. Towards the end of his stay, turnout began to marginally improve, mostly because word quickly got out that Theodore was disseminating his arms and money liberally among those chiefs who made an appearance. By the time of his departure, he had been visited by Giacomo Susini of Aulle, Gio-Felice Panzani of Tallano, Simone Poggi of Citerini, Milanini Lusinchi of Zicavo, and Michele Durazzo of La Rocca, as well as his “nephew” Matthias von Drost. Their presence, however, did not necessarily equate with military support, and on the matter of renewing the rebellion most of these chiefs were noncommittal. Clearly they respected Theodore, and Berkeley noted that they treated him with something passing for the deference due a monarch, but they were concerned that they had little to gain by abandoning their present de facto independence for Theodore’s service. The captain’s doubts, however, were clearly growing.

Theodore did not stay in Porto Vecchio. It was too remote - if there was any hope for the national cause it inevitably lay in the north, where the Corsicans and the Genoese already seemed to be headed for a new rupture. Theodore convinced Berkeley to take him to Isola Rossa, where he would be able to get in contact with the Balagnese and the other northern rebels who would surely flock to his banner in far greater numbers. Although Isola Rossa was not a “rebel port” as such, the Genoese had no garrison there. The Revenge arrived on the 29th of January, and although there was no uniformed regiment to greet him, once more Theodore sent out his missives announcing his return. The Genoese, who by now knew of Theodore’s appearance in the south and had gotten their hands on a copy of the declaration, declared the document to be contraband and threatened with death anyone who was found with a copy. Nevertheless, they circulated well into the interior in a matter of days.

The first leaders to react were naturally the Balagnese, led principally by Giovanni Tommaso Giuliani di Muro, Nicolo Poletti di Palasca, and Gio Ambrogio Quilici di Speloncato. They did somewhat better than the southerners and arrived in person, but their intent was not to throw their support unconditionally behind the king; first, they had questions. They pointedly asked if the British were going to actually fight the Genoese, or whether they were just delivering Theodore to Corsica. Theodore prevaricated, making vague statements about foreign support and name-dropping men like Admiral Mathews and John Carteret, but when pressed he had to admit that Mathews was not going to turn his guns on the Genoese in the immediate future. When it came down to it, for all the bad blood and dubious neutrality, Genoa and Britain were not at war. This put an immediate damper on Theodore’s reception, and despite the generous dissemination of guns and supplies it seemed that Theodore’s “return” might meet with a second, fatal blow, not from any Genoese victory but from the reluctance and indifference of his subjects to a renewal of his monarchy. A sudden series of events, however, would reshape the discussion entirely.

The first was unfolding even as Theodore sailed to Isola Rossa. On the 28th of January, the day before Theodore’s arrival in the north, the Genoese finally began their long-awaited operation against Orezza. Despite supply problems and the refusal of the Greeks to participate, the Genoese believed they now had sufficient soldiers in position to sweep through the rebellious pieve, confiscating weapons, arresting exiles, and breaking up the “anti-Regulation” forces there. Colonel Rodolfo Antonio de Jost, commander of the Grisons regiment, would attack from the north with about 300 regulars and 200 filogenovesi and provincial militia; Colonel Pietro Paolo Crettler, commander of the Corti garrison, would attack from the west with 150 regulars and 100 militia; and Filippo Grimaldi, the most trusted of the filogenovesi captains, would march from the east with around 200 militia.

A village in the wooded mountains of Orezza​

The plan was a disaster from the start. Although Jost was intended to march with 500 men, he only had about 150 of them at his starting position in Bastia. He was supposed to collect the rest from posts along the Bastia-Morosaglia route and elsewhere in northern Castagniccia, essentially assembling his force en route. If the “anti-Regulation” Corsicans in Orezza been alone, or merely content to await the arrival of the Genoese, this might have worked. Instead, however, they marched out with their allies from the surrounding pieves and attacked Jost's reinforcements before Jost could even reach them, focusing particularly on the filogenovesi militia. A 50-man militia company under the filogenovesi Salvatore Vinciguerra was attacked at Ficaggia and nearly destroyed; half the men were killed or taken prisoner, and Salvatore himself was forced to surrender after a brief standoff when the nationals set his house on fire. A group of filogenovesi militia under Ignazio "Capponi" Mariani of Rostino attempted to relieve him, but Capponi met heavy resistance and did not reach Vinciguerra quickly enough to stop him from capitulating. The Orezzans, having burned Vinciguerra's house to the ground, now did the same to Capponi's house and those of his followers, and cut down their chestnut trees as well. This reprisal appears to have dissuaded many filogenovesi from following Vinciguerra's example, and several captains subsequently withdrew from the operation. Capponi's force, pressed by the nationals, retreated under fire to Morosaglia, which was subsequently besieged.

Thus by the time Jost arrived on the scene to begin his operation it was already in a shambles. Most of Jost's prospective force in the north was either defeated, dispersed, besieged, or refusing to participate. Rather than invading Orezza, his concern now was saving Morosaglia, where some 150 Genoese and filogenovesi soldiers were encircled. He called off the operation, and added in a letter to the commissioner-general that in his opinion all the interior posts, including Corti, ought to be abandoned. Crettler and Grimaldi, who were already in the field but whose forces were much smaller than what Jost was supposed to have fielded, subsequently withdrew. To his credit, Jost wasted little time in marching on Morosaglia, where he was able to lift the siege; the nationals had invested the convent almost as an afterthought, and when pressed by Jost from outside and Capponi sallying out from within they soon dispersed. There was, however, no chance of the operation continuing as planned.

At this very moment, Commissioner-general Domenico Maria Spinola, the architect of the operation, was on his deathbed. That the plan had gone ahead at all was thanks only to his energy, drive, and resourcefulness. But his last great effort for the Republic had been bungled in the execution, and the frenetic activity and the continual stress of trying to singlehandedly rescue the Genoese cause in Corsica had ruined his health. It was simply too much for the 76 year old Spinola, who had contracted the flu in January and became gravely ill. On the day of Vinciguerra's surrender, the vicar of Bastia gave Spinola his last rites, and on February 12th of 1743 the commissioner-general died at Bastia, the city of his birth. The peace he had worked so diligently to preserve would not survive him.

 

[Ivir Baggins]

And it's back!

 

[St. Just]

I'm naturally rooting for Corsica, but I def. have some sympathies for Spinola, who was asked to achieve the unachievable...

 

[frustrated progressive]

I also feel sorry for Spinola, seemingly the only reasonable person on the Genoese side

 

[SenatorErnesto]

I am saddened by all this filogenovesi like talk, sympathy for a Genoan, shameful!

 

[Yanez de Gomera]

So passed the only sympathetic Genoese in this timeline.

The king is back, but will he be able to be recognized as such? The people of Corsica might think that a very weak Genoese hold, ie no real government, might suit them better than a King whit pretenses of actually ordering them around.

 

[Icedaemon]

It is human nature (or at least something that is common beyond only western civilisation) to root for the underdog. Genoa used to be a serious regional power that at the point this timeline started at was a pathetic shadow of its former self. Trying to fix that does deserve kudos, at the least.

 

[Space Oddity]

So passed the only sympathetic Genoese in this timeline.

The king is back, but will he be able to be recognized as such? The people of Corsica might think that a very weak Genoese hold, ie no real government, might suit them better than a King whit pretenses of actually ordering them around.

The problem is that a weak Genoese hold is going to be temporary, as history has shown again and again--as soon as Genoa can spare the effort, it's going to try and strengthen that hold, starting the cycle all over again.

 

[Carp]

If you feel bad for Spinola, you're definitely going to feel bad for his assistant, who gets to be interim commissioner-general for the next few months just as the train is starting to go off the rails.

 

[Herucalmo]

How convenient a scapegoat! Yes, how dare mr. interim completely ruin the perfectly stable peace wise Spinola had created out of paternal love for the Corsican savages

 

[Carp]

I think the narrative of Spinola as the "sole competent man" in the Genoese administration is complicated a bit by his previous history. I've mentioned it in passing before, but he was Doge of Genoa in 1732 and 1733, during the tail end of the imperial occupation. 1733 was probably the best opportunity the Genoese ever got to permanently quash the rebellion; the Austrians had pacified the rebels and offered their guarantees of a favorable peace, the revolt had only been ongoing for a few years at that point, and there was little thought given to the idea of Corsican independence even among the leaders of the national party. The opportunity was wasted. It was during Spinola's dogeship that the "Prisoners of Savona" were threatened with death, the incident that started Theodore's Corsican adventure. The new regulation which was promulgated by his government did not go far enough and reneged on some of the promises they had made under imperial guarantees, while Paolo Geronimo Pallavicini was appointed as commissioner-general, who proved to be a cruel and treacherous man who was continually conniving the abduction and assassination of the Corsican leaders.

Genoa's system of government was complicated, and the doge was very far from being all-powerful; he was one of the most limited monarchs of the era. Nevertheless, it's undeniable that Spinola was on the throne and wearing the doge's cap at a time when Genoa squandered its best opportunity for peace. One wonders whether his desperate diligence in the final years of his life to try and "save" Corsica for the republic was due in part to some personal responsibility he felt for leading Genoa into the mess it now found itself in.

 

[Circonflexe]

Although Porto Vecchio was not a “rebel port” as such, the Genoese had no garrison there

Surely you mean Isola Rossa, not Porto Vecchio?

 

[Carp]

Surely you mean Isola Rossa, not Porto Vecchio?

I did indeed, thanks. Fixed.

 

[Pischinovski]

@Carp I am working on a map of the Treaty of Nymphenburg. Do you know who would have received the Austrian Netherlands? Bavaria(-Bohemia), Spain or would they have remained with the Austrian Habsburgs?

 

[Circonflexe]

For those who did not notice yet: the vote for the Turtledoves is open, and this TL is currently leading. If you did not cast your vote yet, you kow what to do!

 

[Kailash]

For those who did not notice yet: the vote for the Turtledoves is open, and this TL is currently leading. If you did not cast your vote yet, you kow what to do!

Can you please post the link

 

[Carp]

It's true! Astonishingly, and against all apparent logic, a TL entirely about the island of Corsica which has been chugging along for 9 months yet in that time has only covered ~7 years of history past its POD is a leading contender for this year's Turtledoves in the Colonialism and Revolutions category. I'm not going to tell you who to vote for, but if you'd like to cast a vote for KTC and/or any other one of the fine timelines falling within the 1701 to 1899 time period you can fill in your ballot right here.

On a more serious note, I'd like to sincerely thank everyone who's read, commented on, and contributed to this timeline. I'm honestly still a little surprised it caught on - Theodore's a wonderfully interesting guy, but this is something of an "anti-TL" compared to the big, centuries-spanning, astonishingly ambitious works that often (and deservedly) win awards. Win or lose, I'm gratified by the praise and I hope I am able to keep delivering new twists and turns in the story of Theodore and Corsica to the standard you expect.

I've been piled up at work lately, but I expect to post a new update before the end of the week.

@Carp I am working on a map of the Treaty of Nymphenburg. Do you know who would have received the Austrian Netherlands? Bavaria(-Bohemia), Spain or would they have remained with the Austrian Habsburgs?

Unfortunately, I don't have the text in front of me. Nymphenburg is a bit confusing in that it was not a single treaty - there was, at the very least, a Bavarian-Spanish military alliance (some sources add France), which was separate from a Bavarian-Saxon agreement on the division of certain Austrian territories (which Prussia was later a party to). Although I have run across a few sources that claim the Austrian Netherlands or "Belgium" was to be annexed by France, I'm not actually sure this was explicitly stated in any of the aforementioned treaties (but again, I don't have the text).

My guess is that no such demand was put in writing, because a) the treaty about dividing territories was between France's German allies, and b) it would have been politically brainless. At this time the French were genuinely concerned that Britain might seriously join the war (remember, at this point all they were doing was writing Maria Theresa checks, and King George had proclaimed Hanover's neutrality), and it seems unlikely to me that they would have explicitly stated their desire for the Austrian Netherlands at such a time, knowing full well that this would be crossing a red line as far as Britain was concerned. (But again, no text - that's just speculation.)

What I am pretty certain of is that, if Belle-Isle got his way - he was the architect of French policy in Germany at this time, and a key figure involved at Nymphenburg - France definitely would have taken the Austrian Netherlands. Yet Belle-Isle wasn't King Louis, who famously renounced all of that territory which he had previously occupied at the peace table, so I can't say whether Belle-Isle's vision would have been realized in the end.

By the way, I support this venture and if you need any assistance I'm happy to contribute as I can. I'd love to see the finished product!