the Spanish also poached from Genoese forces, in their case by parking a ship in Ajaccio's harbor and inviting "recruits" to come aboard.
I literally LOLed.
The Spanish dispensed with diplomatic niceties and shamelessly didn't even hide it...
 
Just some questions- What sort of natural resources do the Corsicans have access to, mostly thinking about metals, timber, livestock etc, that would allow Theodore to turn the state into a profitable one after the Genoese are kicked out?
I don’t know a lot about Corsica except that it can export small men.

What will be the historical name be for Theodore’s first and second riegn and the interregnum. Like England’s Glorious Revolution except for Corsica?

Finally, Might we see a excerpt from the future talking about the kingdom of Corsica and its first king(opinions and what Corsica is up to in the far future)

Thanks
 
Just some questions- What sort of natural resources do the Corsicans have access to, mostly thinking about metals, timber, livestock etc, that would allow Theodore to turn the state into a profitable one after the Genoese are kicked out?
I don’t know a lot about Corsica except that it can export small men.

We've occasionally touched on that in the thread, but I'm happy to recap.

The largest exports were generally agricultural. In 1810 Corsica was exporting 2.5 million pounds of olive oil annually, partially for consumption but perhaps mainly for cloth-making (olive oil soap was used to clean wool). Wine was another major export, while other cash crops (mainly citrus and nuts) were a distant third behind olives and grapes. Other agricultural products are also possible - white mulberry grew well in Corsica, for instance, and there was a small native silk industry. I've read at least one source claiming Corsican silk was better than Piedmontese silk, which would be notable, but the sector never attracted much investment historically.

Corsica produced a lot of wool, but not a kind which was much good for export. White wool was in demand because it could be easily dyed, but the Corsican native sheep (the Muvra or Mouflon) is mainly dark-coated, and something like 90% of Corsican wool was brown/black. As a result it was mostly used internally and not exported. Corsica makes plenty of cheese, too, but for reasons of perishability this was also not a significant export before modern refrigeration.

Corsica also has lumber. The Corsican Pine was well-suited for planks and masts and Corsican forests were a key strategic resource for the late 18th century/early 19th century French navy, although gathering this resource was complicated somewhat by the poor interior infrastructure of the island. The revolutionary French government commissioned a study of Corsican forests which concluded that while a native shipbuilding industry was possible, it would require facilities and expertise that were not then available on the island, and a more profitable use for Corsican timber might be as fuel for an iron industry. Corsica itself has very little iron, or any other mineral resources, but just across the water are the famed iron mines of Elba (whose ore was usually taken to the Maremma or even Genoa for smelting, as Elba had few trees). There are also cork oaks in Corsica which could be harvested.

As mentioned, there's not much to mine in Corsica; there are a few poor iron mines, a single fairly unimpressive silver-lead mine at Calenzana, some very scant coal deposits that are in hard to reach places, and a half dozen or so copper mines of low-to-moderate value. Corsica, particularly in Capo Corso, is rich in asbestos and provided most of France's supply of that material, but industrial asbestos mining didn't become a thing until the late 19th century (and stopped being a thing in the 1960s, as the Corsican asbestos mines were killing so many workers). The island does have some worthwhile granite quarries which were used to build the Vendôme Column in Paris, the Medici Chapel in Florence, and the foundation beneath Napoleon's sarcophagus in Les Invalides.

What will be the historical name be for Theodore’s first and second riegn and the interregnum. Like England’s Glorious Revolution except for Corsica?

Technically it's his third reign if you count his trip to Amsterdam in 1737. I suspect both would be known as "regencies" rather than interregna properly so called (as the latter implies there's no king). The "second revolutionary regency" is a tricky thing, however, because Theodore didn't formally erect a regency when fleeing from the French conquest as he did in 1737; I would guess a lot depends on how legitimate the self-proclaimed regency of d'Ornano is perceived to be in the years after the Revolution.

Finally, Might we see a excerpt from the future talking about the kingdom of Corsica and its first king(opinions and what Corsica is up to in the far future)

Well, that requires me to know what Corsica is up to in the far future, which is not necessarily something I've decided upon. Butterflying Napoleon makes for a potentially very different 19th century. I have not yet decided whether Corsica "canonically" remains independent into our time or whether it becomes part of some unified Italian state, nor if the monarchy manages to preserve itself or be overthrown by republicans (as was the fate of so many monarchies in the 20th century). While I am certainly writing from a future perspective, I tend to avoid making statements that would imply future results that I have yet to actually work through.
 
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Well, that requires me to know what Corsica is up to in the far future, which is not necessarily something I've decided upon. Butterflying Napoleon makes for a potentially very different 19th century. I have not yet decided whether Corsica "canonically" remains independent into our time or whether it becomes part of some unified Italian state, nor if the monarchy manages to preserve itself or be overthrown by republicans (as was the fate of so many monarchies in the 20th century). While I am certainly writing from a future perspective, I tend to avoid making statements that would imply future results that I have yet to actually work through.

I can't see Corsica being independent in 2018 ITTL. It'll probably either part of an alt-Italian unification or possibly absorbed later through either politics or war. It'll probably be like Sardinia is in OTL as an island province with its own history and culture that separates itself from the mainlanders but still identifies with Italian nationalism.
 
I can't see Corsica being independent in 2018 ITTL. It'll probably either part of an alt-Italian unification or possibly absorbed later through either politics or war. It'll probably be like Sardinia is in OTL as an island province with its own history and culture that separates itself from the mainlanders but still identifies with Italian nationalism.

I don't know. It very much depends on the personalities of the kings of Corsica, events that are happening, and a little bit of luck. If the right Kings play their cards right they could keep their independence in to the 20th century.
 

Isaac Beach

Banned
I can't see Corsica being independent in 2018 ITTL. It'll probably either part of an alt-Italian unification or possibly absorbed later through either politics or war. It'll probably be like Sardinia is in OTL as an island province with its own history and culture that separates itself from the mainlanders but still identifies with Italian nationalism.

Well that’s presuming Italian unification even occurs; it did take a Napoleon and three Risorgimentos to unify the peninsular and while some kind of unified Italian state is probably inevitable whether it will be as successful as IOTL is debatable. And Corsica could still end up under the suzerainty of it’s other two neighbours, Spain and France, or perhaps as a satellite of Britain à la Belgium. There’s a lot of variables.
We obviously shouldn’t be deterministic as this is Carp’s timeline, but I’d personally love to see a Kingdom of Corsica surviving to the present day, although that’d require quite the string of luck.
 
I can't see Corsica being independent in 2018 ITTL. It'll probably either part of an alt-Italian unification or possibly absorbed later through either politics or war. It'll probably be like Sardinia is in OTL as an island province with its own history and culture that separates itself from the mainlanders but still identifies with Italian nationalism.

That's certainly a possible outcome, and perhaps the most likely. I'm not sure Sardinia is the best comparison, however, as Sardinia was never an independent and unified state and was continuously under foreign control since the 14th century. Moreover, its inclusion in a united Italy was foreordained as soon as the Kingdom of Sardinia became the obvious protagonist of the Risorgimento; being in union with Piedmont from the start, it required no military or political conquest to include Sardinia within the developing state. As an aside, one wonders how (and if) unification with Italy would have proceeded if, by the second half of the 19th century, Sardinia was still part of the Spanish crown.

I think a number of different outcomes are possible depending on how the politics of the 19th century play out. The absence of Napoleon presumably has massive consequences for Italian history, and if Italy is not subjected to he same conquest and reorganization that it was in OTL's Napoleonic period the growth of Italian "national sentiment" could be significantly delayed or altered. Assuming a united Italy does form in the 19th century, Corsica would be hard pressed to resist unification by force, but if the British have a good relationship with Corsica and consider it a strategic asset in the Mediterranean such an action might be politically impossible for the nascent Italian state. Depending on how the politics of that time are arrayed, France too might have something to say about Italy taking the island.

Much depends on how strong "pan-Italian" sentiment is among the Corsicans themselves. Undoubtedly the Corsicans have much in common with the Tuscans, and TTL's Corsica will clearly be more "Italianized" than OTL, but generations of independence under one's own government and monarchy might make subjection to an independent Italy unattractive for many. There will undoubtedly be pro-unification sentiment among some Corsicans, but I could also very easily see a renewed "Corsican movement," emphasizing the uniqueness of Corsican culture and attempting to revive the native language, developing as an ideological opponent to Italian nationalism. You could even have a pseudo-historical national mythology emerge ("Cyrnism?") which emphasizes, rightly or wrongly, the autochthonous identity of the ancient Corsicans and presents all of Corsican history as the story of an indigenous, non-Italian island people being continually subjugated and abused by Italians in their various historical guises (Rome, then Pisa, then Genoa, and finally modern Italy).

Undoubtedly the effectiveness and popularity of the monarchy and the royal government will be critical. A Corsican monarchy which is perceived as repressive and retrograde may be ripe for overthrow by pro-Italian liberals. Corsica, however, arguably never experienced feudalism; there was no deeply-ingrained system of aristocratic privilege as existed in many of the old Italian princely states. A Corsican monarchy could certainly be unpopular, but it could never be the guardian of a repressive feudal order, which may mean less fertile ground for liberal pan-Italianism.
 
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That's certainly a possible outcome, and perhaps the most likely. I'm not sure Sardinia is the best comparison, however, as Sardinia was never an independent and unified state and was continuously under foreign control since the 14th century. Moreover, its inclusion in a united Italy was foreordained as soon as the Kingdom of Sardinia became the obvious protagonist of the Risorgimento; being in union with Piedmont from the start, it required no military or political conquest to include Sardinia within the developing state. As an aside, one wonders how (and if) unification with Italy would have proceeded if, by the second half of the 19th century, Sardinia was still part of the Spanish crown.

I think a number of different outcomes are possible depending on how the politics of the 19th century play out. The absence of Napoleon presumably has massive consequences for Italian history, and if Italy is not subjected to he same conquest and reorganization that it was in OTL's Napoleonic period the growth of Italian "national sentiment" could be significantly delayed or altered. Assuming a united Italy does form in the 19th century, Corsica would be hard pressed to resist unification by force, but if the British have a good relationship with Corsica and consider it a strategic asset in the Mediterranean such an action might be politically impossible for the nascent Italian state. Depending on how the politics of that time are arrayed, France too might have something to say about Italy taking the island.

Much depends on how much "Italian" sentiment there is among the Corsicans themselves. Undoubtedly the Corsicans have much in common with the Tuscans, and TTL's Corsica will clearly be more "Italianized" than OTL, but generations of independence under one's own government and monarchy might make subjection to an independent Italy unattractive for many. There will undoubtedly be pro-unification sentiment among some Corsicans, but I could also very easily see a renewed "Corsican movement," emphasizing the uniqueness of Corsican culture and attempting to revive the native language, developing as an ideological opponent to Italian nationalism. You could even have a pseudo-historical national mythology emerge ("Cyrnism?") which emphasizes, rightly or wrongly, the autochthonous identity of the ancient Corsicans and presents all of Corsican history as the story of an indigenous, non-Italian island people being continually subjugated and abused by Italians in their various historical guises (Rome, then Pisa, then Genoa, and finally modern Italy).

Undoubtedly the effectiveness and popularity of the monarchy and the royal government will be critical. A Corsican monarchy which is perceived as repressive and retrograde may be ripe for overthrow by pro-Italian liberals. Corsica, however, arguably never experienced feudalism; there was no deeply-ingrained system of aristocratic privilege as existed in many of the old Italian princely states. A Corsican monarchy could certainly be unpopular, but it could never be the guardian of a repressive feudal order, which may mean less fertile ground for liberal pan-Italianism.

OK Sardinia may not have been the best comparison but I still think Corsica will end up in an alt-Italian (or possibly alt-Northern Italian nation) France is the next possible option but with British support and strong leadership it could keep the French out, allowing it to form its own culture and nationality but still very similar to Italian culture due to proximity. I could definitely see Corsica remaining independent until the 19th or possibly 20th century. Without over 200 years of French rule their culture will be much closer to Italian/Northern Italian culture which could allow for a peaceful absorption via nationalism although I can also see a military conquest if the Corsicans resist initial unification. How the Corsicans end up part of this alt-Italy/alt-Northern Italy will affect how they view it: if it is a peaceful absorption with autonomy then most Corsicans will be fine with it and see themselves as Italians first and Corsicans second but if they are conquered then there will probably be uprisings against their overlords and Corsicans could see themselves as distinct from Italian but will not have the ability to break free without substantial outside aid.
 
TBH Italian unification is more a matter of great power politics than anything else. It did not suit any of them to unify the peninsula, so it remained divided (and Austria ate Venice in a fairly blatant landgrab at Versailles, not helping matters especially given their general incompetence at governing the province). It is no coincidence that Unification only happened in a period of Austrian weakness coinciding with French backing for Sardinia Piedmont; should Austria weaken, or at least have her position contested more firmly (by both Britain and France- if the former, plus perhaps also Spain?) then there is much more room for Savoy etc to maneuver.

If Austria should be evicted from Milan during the upcoming wars then that should- in combination with continued Venetian independence- put things into a much more favorable position for unification of at least the north under a confederal system. The Padan plain has too many incentives to cooperate and coalesce during this period. Corsica in that regard would obviously seek stronger ties with the mainland.
 
Without Napoleon, the possibility of the French Revolutionary Wars continuing under a Republic is real. Perhaps the French form smaller republics across Italy, dividing it up between northern and southern Peninsular republics (Lombardy and Naples), with the likes of Corsica, Sardinia and Sicily remaining on as independent monarchies thanks to British naval support? Republican sentiment lives on in the mainland and perhaps cultivate regional Italian tendencies, while the island monarchies go their own way and cultivate their own identities.
 
I kind of want to see a future King of Corsica be the Napoleon of TTL, and have Corsica exploit some revolutions to be the unifier of Italy.

But that's more out a mad desire to see how Carp would write that kind of thing over any basis in plausibility.
 
Nappy still needed to be given command of the French armies at a time of constant wars during a time the French were doing especially well. Why would anyone hand the monarch of a tiny and technologically backwards island a vast army with cutting-edge technology and very high morale?
 
Like others have noted, the unification of Italy is not foreordained. The lack of Napoleon makes it even more doubtful, pending other factors. It will all depend on the relative strengths of the powers, the success of Savoyard ambition, and whether France goes revolutionary. It would be interesting if the example of Corsican "popular" monarchy might inspire a more reformist regime in France, instead of OTL's republicanism. We are still in the period in which the philosophical foundations of the eventual revolt are being written.

Also, I don't see the continued existence of Corsica to the modern day as that unlikely, if they should become a British satellite.
 
Crettler withdrew with his bloodied column, but without most of the train, which the rebels fell upon and seized.

Crettler had managed his evacuation, but at a high price.

So how did Crettler just leave this powder instead of blowing it up (and the cannons with it)?
 
So how did Crettler just leave this powder instead of blowing it up (and the cannons with it)?

Crettler only made the decision to abandon the train altogether after his breakout from the convent. Having broken through the rebel encirclement and linked up with Jost, he presumably intended to bring the supplies with him, but was prevented from doing this by a concerted rebel attack and the threatened encirclement of his position. At that point, he opted to retreat and save his column, even if it meant abandoning the train. If Crettler had known that saving the guns was impossible during the earlier siege, he would have probably destroyed everything, but since he was under orders to bring back the materiel he avoided doing this until the last minute. Remember, the Genoese on Corsica are starved for supplies too; many of their batteries have guns from the 16th century, and whole caches of muskets and powder held in the citadels were upon inspection deemed to be unusable on account of age. Any Genoese commander would hesitate before destroying valuable military stores.

Undoubtedly Crettler was able to destroy some of his supplies and arms, and it remains to be seen what the rebels were actually able to salvage. All that's been said so far is that the rebels were able to take Corti later that month, but that has less to do with the rebels' available artillery than the fact that Corti had hardly any food left and was manned by less than 150 men, of which around a hundred were militia.
 
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The Siege of Ajaccio
The Siege of Ajaccio

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A bastion of the citadel of Ajaccio, looking across the bay to the east

While the revolution was rekindled in the north, the British pursued their own ends in Corsica. Rear Admiral Thomas Mathews had been informed in February that a Spanish warship, the 64-gun San Isidro,[1] was at Ajaccio harbor. Under the command of the French captain Gilles René de Lage de Cueilly, the San Isidro had participated in the landing of Spanish troops in Italy early in the war, but had been separated from its squadron and damaged in a storm, requiring de Lage to take refuge at the Corsican port. Once there, however, his activities were not purely convalescent. The Spanish fleet had urgent need of skilled sailors, and the Genoese authorities complained that de Lage not only recruited from among their citizens but made the San Isidro into a “floating hotel” for deserters. Mathews, on the basis of the San Isidro’s past service and its present occupation, determined to neutralize the ship. Mathews had already demonstrated his cavalier attitude towards the rights of neutrals and chose as his instrument Commodore William Martin, who just a few months previously had trained his guns upon Genoa and threatened to burn the city if the Republic did not cease its material collaboration with Spain. Clearly the admiral’s intent was not to negotiate.

At the end of February, Martin’s detachment led by his flagship Ipswitch reached Isola Rossa, where they were to rendezvous with Captain William Berkeley’s 70-gun Revenge before proceeding to Ajaccio. Theodore, aboard the Revenge, was made aware of the British plans and did his best to support them, eager not only to make as much as he could of the fleet’s presence but to prove his usefulness to his British benefactors. He had already dispatched messengers to Marquis Luca d’Ornano and Count Antonio Colonna-Bozzi which instructed him them to bring their forces to Ajaccio to rendezvous with the British fleet and begin a siege of the town. It was an optimistic plan - d’Ornano had failed to turn up at Porto Vecchio when Theodore had arrived there, and thus far had made no indication, despite his earlier claimed title of “Regent of the Kingdom of Corsica,” that he maintained any allegiance to Theodore. Colonna’s loyalty was less in doubt, but without d’Ornano’s support the “Free Battalion” had no chance of threatening Ajaccio on its own. Nevertheless, given his chilly reception in the north the king no doubt saw this as his last chance to spark a royal restoration and prove that the popular loyalty he had boasted of in London was not merely a sham. Even as events in the north moved inexorably towards the clash at Morosaglia, Theodore was sailing away, bound for the Dila.

The flotilla arrived late on March 2nd. De Lage had anchored his ship in the northwestern portion of the bay around 70 meters from the shore, where the British would be compelled to sail under the guns of Ajaccio’s citadel. Despite his questionable "recruiting" of men from the Genoese forces, de Lage expected that Commissioner Stephano Veneroso would side with him, as much to defend the sovereign rights of the Republic as to support his Spanish guests. As the fleet took up a position to prevent any possible escape by de Lage, Theodore - who had transferred with his men and supplies to the 50-gun Salisbury under the command of Captain Peter Osborne - landed at the Campo dell’Oro with some 150 men, an assortment of exiles, foreign recruits, and recently-embarked volunteers from the Balagna. D’Ornano soon made an appearance, but with a smaller force than Theodore had hoped; he had scarcely more men than the king, and had not brought his artillery. The marquis greeted his monarch graciously, but clearly he intended to act foremost as an observer and gauge the situation before committing himself as a combatant. Colonna was nowhere to be seen.

Martin’s orders did not even mention Theodore. Although the king no doubt hoped to use the British fleet to capture the city for his cause, the commodore’s only goal was the capture or destruction of the San Isidro. Ajaccio itself was of interest to Martin only insofar as its guns threatened his operations in the bay. De Lage had requested the support of Commissioner Veneroso's batteries, as well as permission to land some of his own ship’s guns in ersatz coastal batteries so as to offer a stiffer defense. But Veneroso had also received a note from Martin, who informed him in no uncertain terms that if the Genoese did not observe their “neutrality” - which Martin defined as taking no action whatsoever to aid the Spanish - he would direct his fleet to bombard the city “without mercy.” Faced with this dilemma, Veneroso’s solution was to do nothing at all. He simply pretended he had not received any letters, and provided neither commander with a response. The Genoese batteries would remain silent observers of the battle to come. In so doing the commissioner sealed the fate of the San Isidro, which would have to face Martin's full might on its own.

At around four in the morning on the 3rd, Martin led the Ipswitch into the harbor along with the Revenge and the 44-gun frigate Mary Galley. De Lage appears to have shot first, whereupon the three British ships warped into position to present their broadsides to the Spanish warship and opened fire. As the fight was beginning, British longboats were dispatched to land marines and armed sailors on the coasts on either side of the San Isidro, possibly as a means to encircle and capture the vessel as the ship was well within musket-shot of the shore. Theodore remained aboard the Salisbury, which unengaged, some distance away off the shore of Campo dell’Oro; in theory, the rebels were to assist the British in the capture of the Spanish ship, but Martin seems to have given no serious thought to coordinating with d’Ornano or Theodore. As the ships exchanged volleys, d’Ornano’s men crested the hill of Aspretto overlooking the bay from the east, but thereafter remained observers and did not participate in the battle.

v8HsOWX.jpg

A diagram of the naval battle based on de Lage's report. "A" represents the San Isidro, "B" and "C" are the Ipswitch and the Revenge, and "D" is the Mary Galley. The ship "E," being towed into position by longboats, is an unnamed British warship. "G" is a British longboat, either serving as an observation post or disembarking troops. The ship "F" is galliot, possibly British or Genoese. The San Isidro's three longboats, already deployed for evacuation, can be seen above the ship.

The San Isidro could not long withstand the punishment of the combined British broadsides. By mid-morning the ship resembled a splintered hulk, while the Spaniards had succeeded only in causing light damage to the Revenge. Martin later reported that his squadron’s fire had set the Spanish ship ablaze, but in fact the Spaniards had done it themselves; having fought as hard has he was able, de Lage chose to burn his battered ship rather than allow it to fall into the hands of the British. Unfortunately, the crew performed their duties a little too effectively. The fires raced to the magazine more quickly than anticipated, and around noon the San Isidro abruptly exploded in a massive fireball with some of the crew still on board. De Lage had already evacuated, as had most of his crew, but the Spaniards lost at least 50 men in the detonation.[2][A]

The survivors of the San Isidro, many of them wounded, escaped the wreck in three of the ship’s boats which de Lage - knowing quite well that he was fighting a doomed fight - had put overboard on the landward side and prepared beforehand. Despite having already landed men on the beach, however, Martin chose not to attack the Spanish. His objective was to neutralize the Spanish vessel, which had been accomplished by its destruction. There was no advantage to the Royal Navy in violating Genoese sovereignty further to accost a stranded and bloodied Spanish crew. Martin withdrew the landing parties and ordered the fleet to prepare for departure, much to the relief of the citizens of Ajaccio, who had feared bombardment after a few stray shots raked the town and had gathered around the city’s cathedral to pray for deliverance. Some of the citizens came forth from the town afterwards to aid the Spanish wounded, which d’Ornano did not interfere with.

Theodore faced a difficult and crucial decision. Martin was leaving without delay; he had no objection to taking Theodore with him, but he would not be returning to Corsica anytime soon. Berkeley, in the commodore’s view, had spent quite enough time intriguing with rebels, and his vessel could no longer be spared given the difficult time the fleet was already having with enforcing their Italian blockade. Safety lay over the water, but also defeat and ignominy; having arrived to stir up a new rebellion in his favor, if he were to sail away now his throne might be forever lost. Yet Colonna had not yet arrived, and d’Ornano remained dubious; he had made an appearance, but seemed so far content only to watch, and Theodore feared the marquis might decide to hand him over to the Genoese.

D’Ornano had been clearly gravitating towards the Genoese camp over the past year and had little sympathy with the rebellion in the north, perhaps in part because of his personal dislike for Count Gianpietro Gaffori. Like many other former rebel leaders in the Dila, he valued his autonomy above all, and a friendly détente with the feeble Genoese regime appeared more attractive than the possibility of playing second fiddle to a “national” government run by Gaffori and his friends out of Corti or the Castagniccia. Clearly, however, the situation was complex and changing rapidly, and under such circumstances d’Ornano was not about to limit his options by flatly refusing the King of Corsica. It was undoubtedly for this reason that he appeared before Ajaccio as ordered. In so doing, he could comply with the letter of Theodore’s instructions and observe events firsthand. Even if Theodore’s “return” came to nothing, perhaps a demonstration in front of the walls of Ajaccio would push the Genoese towards offering him a better deal for his friendship.

The king hesitated - and then, finally, took the plunge. Theodore disembarked from the Salisbury along with his company of followers and the last of his supplies from Livorno, including provisions, muskets, and gunpowder. It has been suggested that the British supplied him with additional powder; in any case, his supplies - modest as they were - would prove to be of tremendous import in the fight ahead. After an uneasy two days of waiting, Colonna finally made his appearance, along with the better part of his battalion and Matthias von Drost, Theodore’s cousin. The siege could now begin in earnest.

Ajaccio was, by all appearances, a strong defensive position. The citadel, located on a promontory jutting into the bay, was no late medieval tower; it was a proper bastion fort of the gunpowder age, with gun emplacements in all directions. The town center lay directly below the citadel and had its own exterior wall, albeit not as formidable a defense as the citadel's bastions. Outside these walls and extending along the coast to the north was the Borgu, a suburb largely populated by native Corsicans (as opposed to the city’s mainly Genoese residents).

Veneroso’s garrison forces were also formidable. They included around 475 regulars, mainly Italians under the command of Colonel Gio Tommaso Varenne (“John Thomas Warren,” an Irishman) and one detached company of Colonel Rodolfo Antonio Jost’s Grison infantry. They were supported by the Greek militia companies, then numbering 185 men in total, and around 120 provincial militia (“truppa paesana”), for a total of approximately 780 infantrymen under arms. The Spanish sailors and marines who had escaped the destruction of the San Isidro were also present, although many of these survivors were wounded and it was unclear whether they would fight for Genoa against the Corsican rebels, a war they had no part in. There were certainly common citizens willing to fight if it came to that extremity, but it was unclear how well they would be able to. Veneroso had discovered upon taking his post that many of the “reserve” muskets in the citadel’s armory were nonfunctional antiques, and the Genoese state had not possessed the wherewithal to resupply him since then. In addition to its infantry, the garrison had 25 dedicated bombardieri (artillerymen) to direct the batteries of the citadel. Its batteries were armed with a total of 35 serviceable guns, which in typical Genoese fashion were of myriad calibers: Two enormous bronze 54-pounders, two 34-pounders, three 25-pounder demi-cannons, a single 18-pounder culverin, four 14-pounder bronze demi-culverins, six 9-pounder iron sakers, six 8-pounder bronze sakers, five 4-pounder falcons, three 2-pounder falconets, and two bronze pierriers (“petrieri”), wide-mouthed mortars which lobbed 40-pound stone balls.

Against this force the Corsicans had, at the time of Colonna’s arrival, just over 500 soldiers - approximately 300 of Colonna’s men (mostly free battalion “regulars” with some militia), fewer than 200 of d’Ornano’s militia, and Theodore’s 150 or so assorted followers and hirelings, not all of whom were soldiers. They had no artillery whatsoever; d’Ornano had a half-dozen or so iron guns obtained from Theodore years prior but had not brought them to Ajaccio, which would take some time. Clearly a direct assault was impossible. The rebels could simply cut off the city and wait, but as long as Ajaccio could be supplied by sea this was unlikely to amount to much, as d’Ornano himself had found in his long and fruitless attempts to besiege the city in years past.

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Plan of the Gulf and Bay of Ajaccio ("Hiace"). Note that North on this map is towards the left.
Theodore, however, had a plan. Ajaccio’s harbor, and the site of the recent battle, was located in a small cove - the Bay of Ajaccio - which protruded northwards from the larger Gulf of Ajaccio. The mouth of the bay was marked on the west side by Ajaccio itself, and on the east by the hill of Aspretto, which had briefly been occupied by d’Ornano’s men during the naval battle. The two positions were scarcely a mile apart from one another, yet while the western point was held by Ajaccio's formidable citadel, Aspretto was unfortified. Surveying the bay from the deck of the Salisbury, Theodore had perceived that the point of Aspretto was of paramount strategic importance. A battery of guns positioned there could effectively dominate the entrance to the harbor, cutting off the city’s supply route. Combined with a land blockade, this would place Ajaccio in a vise that would eventually compel its surrender.[3][B]

To make this plan a reality, however, the rebels would need artillery. D’Ornano, as mentioned, had a handful of guns in storage, but they would take some time to bring to the bay, and he had very little powder or ammunition. Theodore had some powder suitable for artillery, but he did not have cannonballs. There was, however, another potential source of artillery and shot much closer at hand, if a bit more challenging to procure. The San Isidro was a 64-gun ship, which meant that 64 guns - or however many of those had survived the explosion intact - and a considerable number of cannonballs were resting just off the shore in less than 15 meters of water. Moreover, to put his ship in a safe position de Lage had anchored as far north in the bay as he could, which placed the wreck beyond the effective range of the citadel at the bay’s mouth, and thus the main Genoese battery. A salvage effort, if it could be protected from attack by the garrison, could provide the rebels with the guns and ammunition (though not the powder) they needed to realize Theodore’s plan, and it would not take a large battery to make Ajaccio’s harbor too hazardous to use.

D’Ornano was still a less than enthusiastic participant in this venture, but he was slowly coming around. News of the rebel victory at Morosaglia was helpful in this regard; the marquis no longer feared that Genoese ire would fall on him alone. The presence of Colonna's superior force may have also convinced him that Theodore had more going for him than mere hope. After stalling for some days, complaining of the logistical challenges he faced, d’Ornano finally got around to dispatching a party to start moving his artillery up to the bay.

In the meantime, there was much work to be done at Ajaccio. The royalists began digging a redoubt on Aspretto hill which Theodore dubbed "Fort Costa" in memory of his departed chancellor, while a company of Free Battalion soldiers occupied the church of Our Lady of Loreto less than a mile north of the city, which overlooked the wreck site. The actual salvage attempt itself got off to a slow start owing to inexperience, but the Corsicans were not altogether without relevant expertise. Ajaccio was the capital of the Corsican coral fishing trade, and thus home to many coral divers who worked routinely in much deeper waters than the Spanish guns were now in. As these fishermen were Corsican natives rather than Genoese, most lived in the Borgo outside the city walls or in surrounding villages where the Genoese could not prevent them from fraternizing with (and working for) the rebels. With the help of these local divers and using log rafts to provide buoyancy, the rebels began dredging up cannonballs from the shallows, and on the 11th of March the Corsicans retrieved their first gun, an iron 12-pounder.

By the time Veneroso realized what the Corsicans were up to, they were well-entrenched north of the city. Veneroso still outnumbered them, but with a characteristic lack of initiative he hesitated to leave the security of his walls. An attempt was made on the morning of the 13th to chase the Corsicans off the beach with a company of Genoese troops in small boats, but the rebels fought off this attack with a fusillade of musketry and the Genoese were forced to retreat. A more successful attempt was made on the following day using an armed Genoese galliot, which trained its guns on the shore and drove off the salvage teams. The Corsicans fought back against this assault as well, but were outgunned by the cannon-armed galliot. The salvage mission was suspended, but on the 16th Fort Costa opened fire on the ship. Marquis d’Ornano had finally brought up a few of his guns. Although the range was long and he had precious little ammunition, a handful of shots were sufficient to scare off the galliot, for such a small ship could take precious little punishment from 24-pounder artillery.

Veneroso had now fully realized the danger that the rebels’ operations posed to the city and finally elected to mount a serious attack. On the 18th, Colonel Varenne marched out against the Church of Loreto with a mixed battalion of around 300 Genoese and Greek infantry. The Corsicans offered some resistance at the church, but there were only around 60 men holding the position and they soon retired before Varenne’s superior numbers. Yet this victory accomplished little; Varenne seized and destroyed a pair of guns which the Corsicans had dredged up and not yet moved from the beach, but Theodore’s men had by now amassed an eight-gun battery at Fort Costa, consisting of three of d’Ornano’s guns and five Spanish pieces from the wreck (although some of these guns were as yet without carriages). This proved sufficient to chase the ships in Ajaccio’s harbor from the bay entirely with just a few volleys.

Varenne considered an attack against Aspretto itself, but delayed the action until the following day. By then, the Corsicans were well-prepared for him, and Varenne was uneasy about his prospects. Rounding the bay posed a great danger to the Genoese, as while advancing against the redoubt they could easily be flanked or attacked from behind by Corsican militia coming from the north and east. The disposition of the Corsican defenses were unknown, as were the number of guns they possessed, some of which might be trained landward. Veneroso offered some supporting bombardment from the citadel, but the range was too long to be of much use, and the shots which reached the hill had minimal effect on the timber-clad earthworks of the battery. Varenne nevertheless made an attempt, coming as close as 600 yards to the rebel position on the hill. Observing the Corsicans manning the redoubt, however - as well as a pair of cannon trained on him - and still concerned about being flanked from the hills, Varenne decided to return to Ajaccio without offering battle.

Within a few days, Theodore received a curious letter from none other than Major Micaglia Stefanopoli, one of the captains of the Greek militia. Stefanopoli had not turned traitor, but he clearly felt there was at least a chance the rebels might prevail, and feared that the Greek community would suffer harsh retribution or outright massacre in the event of a Corsican victory. It seemed prudent to reach out to the “King of Corsica” to gauge his reasonableness, and if possible to reach some understanding whereby the Greeks might survive whichever way the siege turned. In fact the major could not have wished for a better adversary; despite the general animosity towards the Greeks among the Corsican rebels, Theodore had no wish to harm them and in fact strongly desired to keep them on the island. It had been his policy since the beginning of his reign to encourage foreign settlement to increase the population and boost trade, and he was well aware of the aptitude of the Greeks for agriculture. The last thing he wanted was to see them destroyed.

Nevertheless, Theodore sought to use Stefanopoli’s anxiety to gain an advantage. In his reply, Theodore assured the major that he harbored no ill-will towards the Greek people, and that he fully intended to allow them to return to their farms in peace and prosper under the protection of law once the Genoese had been driven out. He lamented, however, the hostility of his Corsican followers, who considered the Greeks to be mere servants of the oppressive Genoese regime, and expressed his concern that he might not be able to control their thirst for “retribution” if the Greeks fought to the last to defend Ajaccio. Theodore agreed that “neutrality” on the part of the Greeks was quite impossible given their present circumstances, but he advised Stefanopoli that a token of support, demonstrating Greek friendship with the Corsican people, would go a long way towards demonstrating that they were not merely Genoese mercenaries. To put it plainly, Theodore played the extortionist: He was willing to use his influence to “protect” the Greeks, but only if paid, and he wanted his payment in gunpowder.

This plot did not immediately come to fruition. Stefanopoli was concerned, but not yet so concerned that he was ready to hand over munitions to the army besieging him. Theodore, however, could not wait around for the major to change his mind. Days earlier, he had received letters from both Simone Fabiani and Johann Friedrich von Neuhoff zu Rauschenburg pleading with him to return to the north. Despite the recent victory at Morosaglia, the royalist cause was not doing well; the various rebel groups had fallen out over the spoils of the victory and their commanders bickered ineffectually about what their next objectives should be. Although Theodore clearly wanted to see the siege through - and may not have fully trusted d’Ornano - he felt he could not delay his return any longer. Leaving the siege in the hands of d’Ornano (with Colonna and Drost as his lieutenants), Theodore took a guard of 80 men and took off northeast towards the Pass of Vizzavona.

Footnotes
[1] The exact armament of the San Isidro is not certainly known. The British reported the ship as a 70-gun vessel, but Spanish records give its original armament as 60 guns, and other documents suggest that it this had been altered to 64 by the 1740s. It may be that the ship was at least nominally armed with 64 guns by 1743 and the British simply estimated its complement at 70, which was the “normal” armament of a 3rd-rate ship of the line in the British system at that time. In its original 60-gun incarnation, the ship was equipped with twenty four 24-pounders, twenty six 12-pounders, and ten 6-pounders.
[2] Later that year, after returning to Spain, de Lage was subject to a court-martial over the loss of the San Isidro. The court determined that no other outcome of the battle could have emerged given the overwhelming superiority of the British fleet, and absolved de Lage of blame for the ship’s loss.
[3] Traditionally the choice of Aspretto has been ascribed to a sudden epiphany by Theodore, giving further proof of his “military genius.” Although not one of the great generals of his day, Theodore was not without military aptitude; certainly his siege of Bastia in 1736 was well-executed. Still, Theodore was not an expert in artillery or naval matters, and it is a bit suspicious that this realization was made directly after spending time on a British ship among British officers (who were experts in artillery and naval matters) observing the very site that Theodore subsequently identified. Indeed, had Veneroso decided to support de Lage and defend the San Isidro with his guns, placing a battery on Aspretto hill would have been a logical second option to deal with the San Isidro by forcing it out of the harbor. Theodore may merely have been the beneficiary of an observant British seaman.

Timeline Notes
[A] The destruction of the San Isidro is largely historical. Indeed, Theodore was even there to see it IOTL. D'Ornano, however, didn't hold up his end of the bargain, and of course Colonna and his battalion didn't exist IOTL. Finding himself without support, Theodore sailed away in defeat with Martin's squadron.
[B] The strategic importance of Aspretto was observed by none other than Napoleon himself, who in 1793 wrote a “Plan for the Defense of the Gulf of Ajaccio” which underlined the importance of the point. “A battery placed on the Aspretto promontory,” he wrote, “would cross its fire with that of the fortress… it would have absolute control over the entrance and the interior of the harbor, where the enemy could anchor only after having put a stop to the said battery’s fire.” Later that year, as a colonel in command of the Republican artillery at the Siege of Toulon, Napoleon recognized the similarity of the two bays and the analogous placement of the “Hill of Cairo” which overlooked Toulon’s harbor. As with Aspretto and Ajaccio, a battery on this hill would render Toulon's defense untenable. The crucial hill was seized, the British and Royalists were forced to evacuate, and Napoleon was promoted to brigadier general and sent on to a new command with the Army of Italy. The fact that Napoleon was advocating the construction of two batteries and a redoubt at Aspretto in 1793, as well as the fact I have yet to come across any indication of the Genoese manning a position there (despite having records for all sorts of other little manned towers along the coast), suggests to me that there were no serious fortifications there 50 years before Napoleon's writing.
 
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Similar play to how Fort Ticonderoga was taken during the ARW - though as far as I can tell Aspretto isn't as commanding as Mount Defiance
 
Similar play to how Fort Ticonderoga was taken during the ARW - though as far as I can tell Aspretto isn't as commanding as Mount Defiance

Indeed, Aspretto and the Citadel both dominate the harbor, but not each other; neither is very high (the citadel is literally at sea level, and the elevation of “Fort Costa” is about 30m at most) and they more than a mile apart from one another. Heavy guns (with sufficient charges) can shoot that far, but not accurately and with diminished power. The two positions can lob shot at one another but only a very lucky hit would do any damage. Likewise, the citadel could fire at the wreck site (it’s about a mile away), but my understanding is that picking off individual divers or log rafts a mile off with big ol’ 17th century cannons is a bit of a fool’s errand. Veneroso is much better supplied for powder and shot than d’Ornano, but not so much so that he can just burn ammo.
 
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As the resurgent rebellion gathers in strength, Theodore will need to do a full time job and then some just keeping the Corsicans from fighting one another, methinks.
 
As the resurgent rebellion gathers in strength, Theodore will need to do a full time job and then some just keeping the Corsicans from fighting one another, methinks.
When the French or Austrians or whoever aren't intervening, it almost seems to be more civil war then rebellion.
 
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