Blood for Oil
Blood for Oil
An 18th century maritime scene in Amsterdam
An 18th century maritime scene in Amsterdam
As soon as he set foot on dry land in Livorno, Theodore was targeted for death. He infiltrated the city dressed as a priest, but word soon spread of his transit. The Genoese authorities immediately hounded the Tuscan government, demanding the arrest of the "king" and his followers. The Tuscan officials soon agreed, and promised swift action, but it soon became clear that empty promises were the only things the government intended to deliver. At the very same time, Theodore had made his way to Florence and was granted an audience with the ailing Grand Duke Gian Gastone de Medici. The Grand Duke granted him some money, and probably assured him that he was in no danger from the Tuscan government.
In fact Theodore's "incognito" existence in Florence was not all that secretive. He was put up comfortably by one of his Italian followers, the Florentine merchant Francesco dell'Agata. While there, he was visited by a number of notables, including Wenzel Anton von Kaunitz, a 25 year old Austrian junior diplomat who in later years would be the imperial state chancellor and the architect of Habsburg foreign policy. Theodore's chancellor Sebastiano Costa allegedly met with Padre Ascanio, the Spanish minister in Florence, which was taken seriously enough by the Genoese that they lodged an official protest with the Spanish government.[1]
After leaving Florence, rumors proliferated as to Theodore's whereabouts; he was in Rome, or Turin, or Vienna, or had sailed to London or Amsterdam. Unlike his semi-secret existence in Florence, Theodore went underground after leaving friendly Tuscan territory. He sent followers off in different directions and spread false rumors as to his next stop. Eventually he made his way to France, and after tricking the Genoese into thinking he was headed to a ship in Marseilles, went north to Paris instead. After learning that he was there, the Genoese minister to France demanded his arrest, but for whatever reason the French authorities were no more helpful than the Tuscans. Perhaps it was just bureaucratic bungling; but some were inclined to believe that France, though it posed as a protector of Genoese interests, was more interested in the Genoese coming on their knees to beg France's support and thus saw no great reason to remove Theodore from the equation just yet.[A]
At last, Theodore arrived in Amsterdam, but it was here that he came into the greatest difficulty of his journey. Theodore had been out of the reach of his old creditors on wild and distant Corsica, but Amsterdam was another story. His creditors proved better able to sniff out Theodore than the Genoese had been, and he was soon arrested and imprisoned for debt. Initially his friends and associates proposed to settle the debt, which at that moment amounted to "only" 5,000 florins. Once word spread of his imprisonment, however, more creditors seemed to come crawling out of the woodwork, and his well-wishers had to abandon their plans once his claimed debts topped 30,000 florins.[B]
Once more, Theodore had to talk his way out of a jam. He was granted the opportunity to appear before the aldermen of Amsterdam to argue his case. Theodore, as always, knew how to make an entrance, and he arranged that he should appear before the court in fine clothes, with his plumed hat on his head, his silver-headed cane in his hand, and his sword on his hip, in much the same manner as he had first appeared to the Corsicans. Astonishingly, virtually all in attendance - including the magistrates themselves - rose from their seats when he entered, a dignity which some observers claimed had never been granted to anyone before. The aldermen addressed him as "Your Excellency" and Theodore played the part, conducting himself with supreme dignity wholly unexpected from a man who had come there straight from a cell in debtor's prison. With an air of great solemnity, Theodore swore that his creditors would be repaid in full as soon as he was able. It was a vague and meaningless promise, but delivered with such apparent sincerity and by such an eminent figure that the aldermen of Amsterdam—who surely counted many shrewd merchants among them—accepted his oath as sufficient and granted him his liberty. While his debts were not discharged, he was officially shielded from any further action by his creditors while in Amsterdam.[C]
It was here in Amsterdam that Theodore must have truly realized, for the first time, that he was a celebrity. Despite Genoa's attempts to suppress all news out of Corsica that wasn't officially sanctioned, including an official policy of paying various continental gazettes to suppress articles about Theodore and print pro-Genoese editorials, newspapers across Europe had reported on the exploits of the dashing and mysterious King of Corsica. Britain and Holland in particular, with their relatively high rates of newspaper publishing and public literacy as well as a historically-informed aversion to "tyranny," were particularly fascinated with Theodore and the plight of the Corsican rebels. The 1735 and 1736 constitutions had been widely published, as had been some of Theodore's propagandistic broadsides. Coverage was not always positive—many editorials hewed close to the Genoese line and dismissed him as a scoundrel and adventurer—but criticism did not decrease his fame, and his fame was enough for people to try and cash in on it. In London, a man was arrested for selling counterfeit "Corsican wine," and in October of 1736 an English distillery had begun selling gin under the brand "King Theodore of Corsica." One could already buy books about Theodore, like Das Alte und Neue Corsica written by Johann Hieronymus Lochner and published in Nuremberg in 1736.[2] In Amsterdam, crowds gathered wherever he went, often requiring him to exit buildings quietly by the back door if he didn't want to be mobbed.
Celebrity was a double-edged sword, however, for while he was in every paper and received numerous invitations to social affairs, Theodore remained an active target for assassins. His chief patron and protector in the city was Lucas Boon, a wealthy merchant and deputy of state for Gelderland, who continually shuffled him between different residences throughout the city to keep Genoese agents (and non-Genoese who just wanted to be 2,000 crowns richer) off his trail. Boon had visited Theodore while in prison and had been fascinated by him. He had an amateur interest in alchemy and enjoyed discussing it with Theodore, who was extremely well-read on the subject (and indeed had been a practicing alchemist in Prussia).
Boon's primary interest, however, was in money. In particular, he had interrogated Theodore on Corsican economics, and paid close attention to Theodore's figures on Corsican olive oil production. Because of wars and political turmoil in the Mediterranean, the price of oil had skyrocketed; in England, for instance, the price of a barrel of olive oil more than doubled over the course of the 1730s. If Costa's export figures are correct, the Balagnese olive oil crop alone was potentially worth in excess of 5 million pounds sterling at then-current prices. That alone was enough to grab a merchant's attention, but what Boon was truly interested in was long-term investment. Theodore assured him that, with arms, ammunition, and money, he could triumph over the Genoese, secure Corsican independence, and provide Boon and his co-investors with a very favorable concession.
Theodore, perhaps aided by Boon, produced a prospectus to be made available to possible investors, and had no trouble finding interested parties. The Amsterdam press, which had formerly treated Theodore's enterprise with skepticism and occasional contempt, abruptly flocked to his defense.It has been suggested that Boon and friends were bribing the journalists, a tactic which is difficult to criticize as it was already being extensively used by the Genoese. Not all newspapermen, however, needed to be bought. Some of the most detailed coverage of Theodore and the Corsicans was offered by Le Mercure Historique et Politique, a French-language political gazette which was published in Amsterdam to avoid French government censorship. Its editor, the French Huguenot Jean Rousset de Missy, shared Theodore's views on religious freedom and was also a key figure in Dutch Freemasonry, being the Venerable Master of an Amsterdam lodge. Theodore was soon utilizing their acquaintance, and Le Mercure was the frequent recipient of "scoops" on the Corsican affair which were undoubtedly passed to de Missy by Theodore's friends, family, and business partners.
Jean Rousset de Missy, French Huguenot historian and journalist
In May, the initial contract was drawn up between Boon and the principal partners in the new enterprise, Cesar Tronchin, Daniel Dedieu, and Pieter Neufville. They were men of means and standing who shared two key attributes: they were hungry for better returns on capital than could be acquired in Holland, and they were not averse to a little risk. Dedieu, like Boon, was a deputy of state, and had formerly been the president of the aldermen of Amsterdam and the minister of the States General to Russia; he had also had contact with Theodore while in prison. Tronchin was a relation of Theodore Tronchin, a physician who would soon be famous for his pioneering work on smallpox inoculation, and whose family included some of the wealthiest bankers in Switzerland. Neufville was a prosperous banker and dealer in grain, linen, silk, and silver throughout Germany. They were joined by an undisclosed number of other investors, including, we are led to believe, other aldermen, whose status as both Theodore's financial backers and his judges at the recent trial suggests that there may have been something more to the king's astonishing release from prison than sheer charisma.
This organization was the progenitor of the Nederlandse-Corsicaanse Compagnie, but as yet it was not quite so formally organized. While the States General had not criminalized trade with Corsica as the Genoese had demanded, the partners still deemed it advisable to operate on a less public basis, and thus did business on the basis of ad hoc contracts and agreements rather than constituting themselves as a corporation. In those years, when the organization had a name at all, it was known simply as "the syndicate."
Although optimistic about Theodore's chances and excited to begin their endeavor, the syndicate's partners were not so beguiled by Theodore as to give him a blank check. The plan that was eventually agreed upon was to dispatch one modestly sized ship to Corsica, bearing both Theodore and some military supplies. Upon landing, the ship would load up with oil (or, as written in their contract with Theodore, whatever other available goods were available which the syndicate might prefer, including wine and wax) and return to Holland. If this was satisfactorily accomplished, a larger fleet would follow. If all went well, the partners stood to double their initial investment. The ship was the Yongfrau Agathe[3] and its captain was a Swede, Gustav Barentz. His cargo, aside from the king and his entourage, consisted of 27 cases of muskets,[4] 42 barrels of gunpowder, 4,000 bullets, 1,800 knives, a pair of cast-iron 12-pounder guns with carriages and ammunition, and various other supplies including bolts of cloth, ingots of iron and lead, shoes, match-cord, and brass trumpets. Officially, the ship was bound for Livorno, and Theodore and his comrades were all supplied with assumed names and legends; Theodore was "Mijnheer Bookmann."[5]
Theodore accepted this proposal—he had little choice—but the syndicate was not his only resource. Through his banking associates in Amsterdam, as well as through the sale of knighthoods in the Order of Deliverance to certain wealthy admirers who thought it a wonderful novelty, he had also been able to raise some capital of his own, although to avoid having to pay it to his creditors the funds were actually handled by his Florentine friend Francesco dell'Agata. Before departing for his kingdom on the Yongfrau Agathe, Theodore instructed dell'Agata to charter a second ship, fill it with whatever military stores he could afford, and follow him to Corsica as soon as practicable.
The lasting question is to what extent the Dutch government favored Theodore's cause. There is no evidence that the States General gave him any direct support, but the incidental involvement of the government and its agents is eyebrow-raising and drew comment even at the time. The Genoese government, upon learning of Theodore's imprisonment, protested to the Dutch government and demanded his extradition. At first, the Dutch representatives denied any knowledge of the person of the Baron Neuhoff and disputed that he was even in their territory. This was too obtuse to be credible, however, given that one could read about him in any of Amsterdam's gazettes. The government soon changed its tune, replying to the Genoese envoy that they had no association whatsoever with any Corsican affairs and had neither the obligation nor the inclination to arrest Theodore, who as far as they knew was guilty of no crime save indebtedness. While the Dutch government had rebuffed Theodore's suggestion some months earlier of a treaty of alliance, their obstinate refusal to cooperate with the Genoese and the involvement of a number of mid-level civil servants with Theodore's cause, including various diplomats, aldermen, and consular officials, suggest that the government must have seen some value in Theodore and his cause. At the very least, they made conscious choice to allow him and his agents to raise capital, contract vessels, recruit men, and buy armaments in Dutch territory without interference.
Footnotes
[1] Madrid, unsurprisingly, denied any knowledge of such a meeting or any involvement with the rebellion.
[2] Or its full title: Das alte und neue Corsica, oder hinlängliche Nachricht, so wol von dieser Insul und Königreich an sich, als auch, was sich von Anbeginn biß jezt, insonderheit bey der dermaligen weltbekanten Revolution damit zugetragen hat: nebst dem Leben des berühmten König Theodors. The book purports to be a comprehensive treatise on the island, proceeding from geography and its history since Roman times up to Theodore's reign. One must admire Lochner for producing such an extensive and topical text in a matter of months.[D]
[3] The Yongfrau Agathe was probably a small fluyt or similar vessel. It was described as being a 16-gun ship, but merchant vessels often carried fewer guns than their nominal maximum armament to accommodate more cargo. Indeed, Barentz's crew was only 12 men, enough to sail the ship and not much else. Clearly Barentz had no intention of fighting his way through the Genoese blockade.
[4] While exactly how many muskets were in a "case" is unclear, the Yongfrau Agathe probably carried at least 500 muskets to Corsica. For reference, Theodore had 700 muskets with him when he arrived in Corsica on the Richard. The cargo of the Agathe thus represented a significant, but probably not decisive contribution of materiel, and with only two cannon in its hold it did not seriously enhance Theodore's ability to besiege Genoese fortresses, which was his greatest need.
[5] A "legend," in espionage, is the fictional identity and background of a spy, including name, occupation, personal details, and so on. Theodore's legend was not actually fictional—Boon did know a businessman in Livorno named Bookmann. Whether the real Bookmann was part of the plot, or even aware that Boon had loaned his name to the King of Corsica, is unknown.
Timeline Notes
[A] Theodore really did travel through Paris in 1737, and the Paris authorities didn't do much of anything about it despite the insistence of the Genoese minister.
[B] Theodore's debts were clearly a daunting amount for one man, but not enormous from the perspective of a state. The Grand Duchy of Tuscany, for example, had an annual state revenue of around 2.8 million florins in the late 1730s, which means clearing Theodore's Amsterdam debt would have cost just over 1% of annual revenue. The annual revenue of the Austrian Empire, for comparison, was 40 million florins with a national debt of 280 million in the immediate wake of the War of Austrian Succession (1748).
[C] This really happened. Well, the "Your Excellency" part is an editorial flourish, but the rest reportedly happened—he did walk into the court with his hat, cane, and sword (!), the magistrates did stand, and they did indeed let Theodore go with only an oath that he would repay when he was able.
[D] If you can read German and don't mind 200+ pages of Fraktur, you can read the whole book here.
Last edited:
