Borgo
  • Borgo

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    The village of Borgo (Corsican: "U Borgu"), looking northeast. The body of water is the Lagoon of Biguglia, the largest of the Corsican lagoons. The Tyrrhenian Sea is separated from the lagoon by the narrow spit of land in the background.

    With the plain of the Nebbio in hand, the French soon snuffed out the remainder of Corsican resistance in the northeast. The French easily won a skirmish at Oletta, and while the Corsicans put up marginally more resistance at Rutali and Murato the outcome of the French campaign there was not seriously in doubt. Some rebel arms caches were reported as seized, indicating that the Corsican evacuation of materiel from the northeast had not been completed, but it is difficult to know the proportion of the losses. Chancellor Sebastiano Costa reported the loss of several artillery pieces, which were presently of no use to the rebels but had nevertheless been bought dearly and could not be easily replaced. Royalist fighters on Cap Corse, who had thus far been able to hold back the brigade of Anne de Montmorency-Luxembourg, Comte de Montmorency et Ligny, found their position untenable with the fall of the Nebbio and retreated by way of Bastia to avoid the possibility of being cut off.

    Bastia, like San Fiorenzo, was doomed. The French forces under Maréchal de Camp Jean-Charles de Gaultier de Girenton, Seigneur de Rousset encountered significant resistance at the Col de Teghime and Bocca di San Stefano, the two main passes between the Nebbio and Orto (the pieve of Bastia), but local militiamen and the Bastia garrison under Count Gio-Giacomo Ambrosi di Castinetta count not hope to hold forever against thousands of regulars under Rousset and Montmorency. On July 7th, Castinetta abandoned the city, but only after destroying or disabling most of the remaining artillery (primarily Genoese bastion guns). The Corsicans abandoned the Genoese prisoners held captive in the citadel, some of whom had been there since 1736. Their numbers had considerably thinned since then, in large part due to typhus. A French apothecary traveling with Rousset's corps recorded in his journal that the survivors were in an atrocious state—filthy, malnourished, and sharing cells with corpses. There were, however, no French prisoners among them. Theodore had marched them inland, hoping that he might still find some value in them, and had seen to their well-being. He had little influence, however, over the seething antipathy of the Corsicans towards their "occupiers," and the rebels treated Genovesi who fell into their hands as worse than dogs.

    The Genoese made much of "their" recapture of the colonial capital, and sympathetic newspapers on the continent were soon crowing that the rebellion was collapsing.[1] Commissioner-General Giovanni-Battista de Mari soon relocated to his rightful place at the governor's palace, but was furious to find Montmorency already in residence and French grenadiers guarding the citadel gates. Montmorency had no pretensions at Mari's overthrow—he was merely using the island's most comfortable building as a temporary command post, and handed it over once Mari had arrived—but he resented the unceremonious ejection of his soldiers from the citadel as if his regiment had not just fought alongside the Genoese for the past several weeks. He was soon joined at Bastia by Lieutenant-General Louis de Frétat, Marquis de Boissieux, who sensibly desired to be nearer the main theater of war. Montmorency's complaints were old hat to Boissieux, who had been dealing with such petty displays of distrust by Mari for more than a year.

    Maintaining territory once seized had posed some problems in the Balagna, requiring the dispersion of Genoese and French forces to various strategic villages, but the northeast was a generally "loyalist" province and demanded little in the way of internal security. Nevertheless, infiltration from the outside was still possible, and a pause was necessary to establish posts, reorganize the troops, and move the French command as well as supplies, munitions, and artillery to Bastia. Boissieux wanted to move on quickly to complete the "encirclement" of the rebellious interior, but he was personally hobbled by a spell of illness, and friction between himself and Mari was not going away. After insulting Montmorency at Bastia, Mari turned himself wholly to the cause of retribution. Despite the general loyalty of the province, there were still royalist sympathizers, and Genoese troops busied themselves with hunting down alleged traitors and destroying their homes and properties. In some cases the targets of these raids were not really royalists, but merely those who had acquiesced to Genoese rule; the French apothecary who noted the abominable state of the Bastian prisons also briefly related the sad story of a man who had his cattle seized by the rebels and was then hanged by the Genoese for supplying the rebels with meat. Boissieux had previously had some small success in restraining Mari's zeal, but Mari's return to his palace in Bastia seems to have boosted his confidence, and Boissieux's illness probably played a role as well.

    Conquering the eastern shore had originally been the job of Brigadier Jean-Baptiste François, Marquis de Villemur, but his defeat at San Pellegrino ended this ambition. Since that time, he had retreated to Cervioni, but was forced to abandon that position too because of the relentless attacks of the Castagniccian militia under Lieutenant-General Count Andrea Ceccaldi. The Corsicans recaptured the town on June 20th, while Villemur withdrew to the environs of Aleria, held by a Genoese garrison. From there he was able to evacuate the wounded and sick and resupply his brigade thanks to the Genoese navy, and Ceccaldi dared not attack him in the coastal plain. Although secure and resupplied, Villemur's force was too weak to attempt another march northwards, which placed the responsibility for the conquest of the eastern coastal pieves—from north to south, Mariana, Casinca, Tavagna, Moriano, Campoloro, and Verde—on the shoulders of Boissieux's commanders in the northeast, Rousset and Montmorency.

    On the 14th of July, a week after the fall of Bastia, the French made their first foray south. The target was the village of Borgo in the pieve of Mariana. Although only a small hamlet, Borgo occupied a key strategic position. Perched upon a hill at the edge of the mountains, Borgo overlooked the coastal route between Bastia and Vescovato. It was also only two miles from the valley of the Golo, which was and remains the principal route of transport between the northeast and the deep interior of the island. It was further rumored that the rebels had a cache of arms there. Boissieux dispatched the Nivernais regiment under Colonel Charles de Béziade, Marquis d’Avaray, to take the village, search it for arms, and hold it as an advance post. The village was not strongly garrisoned and fell with little resistance, although the rumors of an arms cache do not seem to have contained much truth.

    Theodore's reign now seemed to be in serious crisis. The swift loss of Bastia and the Nebbio badly rattled the royalist leadership, and the rats were starting to jump ship. The defection of Marquis Saviero Matra was already well-known, and there were persistent rumors that Lieutenant-General Marquis Luca d'Ornano was discussing his own terms of armistice or surrender with the French in the south. D'Ornano, after all, had been a prominent member of Campredon's "pro-French" party immediately prior to Theodore's arrival. Lieutenant-Colonel Sir John Powers, one of Theodore's most prominent foreign officers and a participant in the Battle of San Pellegrino, had decided to quit the cause after the fall of the Nebbio and had taken a ship out of Bastia shortly before its capitulation.

    Given this situation, a defense of Borgo seemed even more crucial if only to make a show of resistance, but it was not forthcoming. Theodore and his captains knew just as well as the French the value of the village as a point from which to launch an invasion of the interior. Although Boissieux was attempting to avoid such an eventuality, the Corsicans had no way to know this, and it was expected that the French would next move inland from Borgo and into the rebellion's heartland. Despairing of holding Borgo itself, Theodore retreated towards Morosaglia, and recalled Ceccaldi and his men from Cervioni to prepare for a defense of the pieve of Casaconi.

    The pessimism of Theodore and his cabinet, however, was not shared by the Castigniccians. The loss of the fertile north had been a bitter blow to the king and had discouraged many of his elite supporters, but the most recent wartime experiences of the Castagniccian peasantry had not been defeats and withdrawals but San Pellegrino, Alesani, and the recent recapture of Cervioni. Their motivating emotion was not fear, but anger; local priests, relates Costa, harangued the people on the outrages committed by the French in Alesani. The men of the Castagniccia had played only a limited role in the war in the Balagna and the Nebbio, but Borgo was their own doorstep.

    The Battle of Borgo began on the afternoon of July 15th as a minor skirmish between a group of irregulars from Bignorno and d'Avaray's battalion. Who exactly instigated the skirmish is unclear, but Costa insists it was not according to any order from the war council or any royalist general. Quite without the input of the rebel command, the battle rapidly escalated. Armed men had begun congregating in many villages of the northern Castagniccia, hearing rumors of an immanent French attack, but as news of fighting near Borgo spread these men began marching down the Golo. By the morning of the 16th, Borgo was surrounded by at least a thousand Corsicans. The French held against their assault—although outnumbered more than two to one, they were well dug in on the hilltop, and the Corsican attack was poorly coordinated given that they had no command above the company level. Still, d'Avaray was alarmed by their numbers, and prior to his encirclement he dispatched a messenger to Boissieux requesting immediate reinforcement.

    By this time Theodore and his generals realized that battle had been joined without their knowledge or consent. The king was not pleased, as he had hoped to avoid a pitched engagement, and seemed incapable of decisive action. His English secretary, Denis Richard, wrote that the king seemed to have lost his good spirits since the fall of Bastia and was increasingly melancholic and anxious. Captain-General Marquis Simone Fabiani, however, wanted to seize the opportunity. He had been the chief proponent of a strategy of avoidance in the Nebbio, but now argued that, with fighting already underway, battle could not be declined. But for Fabiani, Theodore's paralysis might have left the irregulars at Borgo twisting in the wind, and although Costa tells us that Fabiani "convinced" Theodore to allow him command it may be more likely that Fabiani simply acted in his capacity as Captain-General and marched his forces to Borgo without the king's license.

    Fabiani arrived in the environs of Borgo late on the 16th with several hundred of Theodore's regular forces in addition to a larger body of militia from Rostino, Orezza, and elsewhere. Skirmishing continued under darkness, but a new assault could not be made until dawn. When it came, this attack too was beaten back. After several hours of fighting, a French relief force was sighted approaching the village from the north. Despite his illness, Boissieux had come personally, along with three infantry battalions and the miquelets. Fabiani ordered another assault on the village in an attempt to preempt Boissieux's arrival, but this too was repulsed, albeit with heavy French casualties. Undoubtedly part of the problem was that while Fabiani was ostensibly in supreme command, many of the Corsicans were irregulars who had arrived before Fabiani and were not functionally under his control.

    The Corsicans were not successful in preventing Boissieux from relieving d'Avaray's regiment, but Boissieux did not hold the position for long. D'Avaray's regiment had taken serious casualties and was critically low on ammunition, and the colonel reported to Boissieux that there were certainly upwards of 3,000 Corsicans in the vicinity, a number which was certainly exaggerated. Although Fabiani had broken off his assault upon Boissieux's arrival, fierce skirmishing continued all around the French perimeter, and irregular forces which had been pushed aside by Boissieux's advance now picked their way back north in an attempt to surround the French. Under continual fire, in danger of being surrounded, and convinced by d'Avaray that the enemy was at least half again as numerous as his own force (including the exhausted Nivernais regiment), Boissieux elected to withdraw from the position. The Corsicans pursued the French for the remainder of the day, harassing their columns with fire from the trees. The fighting continued all the way to Furiani, where the Corsican attack finally broke off on account of nightfall and the arrival of more French forces under Rousset.[A]

    Corsican casualties in the Battle of Borgo, while not precisely known, were significant, and their "liberation" of the town did not last long. Ten days later, the French re-occupied the village, this time with a larger force supported by artillery and cavalry, and the Corsicans were not strong enough either to defend it or immediately retake it from the bulk of Rousset's division. Nevertheless, the engagement on the 15th-17th was considered to be a moral victory by the Corsicans. The Castagniccians had demonstrated that the loss of the north had not put out the fires of rebellion, and that the rebel movement remained capable of threatening Boissieux's army - or at least detachments of it. The engagement also seemed to return some backbone to Theodore, who was gratified by the fact that many of his "subjects" remained loyal and willing to fight for the cause which he had by now wagered his whole life upon. Fabiani, too, benefited substantially from the battle; although his actual importance is still debated, given that he did not start the battle and even after his arrival most of the Corsican participants in the battle were probably outside his control, his presence and initiative in joining the fight helped lift the cloud that had been hanging over his reputation since "his" loss of the Balagna.

    Boissieux still pushed ever closer to his goal, the encirclement of the interior, but the episode reflected poorly upon him. Although the French claimed to have caused more casualties than they suffered - which, given the repeated failed assaults on the village, may well be true - they nevertheless suffered reported losses of 82 killed and 175 wounded, casualties amounting to half a battalion. Unlike at San Pellegrino, Boissieux had been personally in command at Borgo, and could not foist off the "defeat" on one of his subordinates. The increasingly exasperated French ministry, which had easily rebuffed prior Genoese complaints about the lieutenant-general, began more seriously considering his replacement.


    Footnotes
    [1] In fairness to the Genoese, there were two Ligurian battalions with Montmorency which must have been among the first to enter the city. Still, it is impossible to consider the recapture of Bastia as a Genoese accomplishment.

    Timeline Notes

    [A] This battle bears a close similarity to the actual Battle of Borgo in 1738 (not to be confused with the second and better-known Battle of Borgo in 1768, fought by Paoli's republic). As ITTL, IOTL Boissieux dispatched a battalion to Borgo which came under repeated attack from a large irregular rebel force, marched to relieve the isolated battalion, and found resistance so fierce that he chose to withdraw back to Bastia under continual harassment. That was, historically, Boissieux's last battle; he died of an indeterminate illness (although one source I've read, without much evidence, claims dysentery) not long thereafter. I think the "repeat" of the historical Battle of Borgo is justified here because the French and Corsicans find themselves in a similar strategic situation ITTL in the summer of 1739 as they did IOTL in late 1738, in which the French/Genoese control the north but not the eastern coast. Borgo is a really obvious strategically important position; there's a reason it was the site of a key battle in both 1738 and 1768 (both of which were major Corsican victories, and arguably the greatest battlefield successes of the rebels aside from the more mythologized Battle of Calenzana). Given Boissieux's rather easy victories in the north and the near-absence of Corsican resistance in the northeast, it seems sensible to me that he would act somewhat "historically" and assume a battalion could hold an important post which was less than a day's march from Bastia.
     
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    The Resistance
  • The Resistance

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    Vescovato, Theodore's second capital

    Lieutenant-General Marquis Luca d'Ornano had faced a frustrating campaign season. Charged with the conduct of the war in the southwestern quarter of the country, his logistical situation had always been difficult; most of the cargo from the syndicate fleet had remained in the north, where the threat seemed most pressing and the land was most valuable. Theodore had continually promised d'Ornano muskets, powder, and money, all of which he badly needed, but he repeatedly failed to deliver owing to organizational challenges, the influence of Captain-General Marquis Simone Fabiani, and the desperate struggle against the French in the Diqua. Although d'Ornano had more men than his French opponents in Ajaccio, the French commander Louis-François Crozat, Marquis du Châtel had taken advantage of d'Ornano's shortage of arms and want of initiative to proceed much further than his original objective. The plan of Lieutenant-General Louis de Frétat, Marquis de Boissieux had only required Châtel to occupy d'Ornano's forces and prevent them from being deployed in the north, but Châtel had actively taken the offensive, pushing inland from Ajaccio and capturing Cinarca.

    With the collapsing rebel position in the north, pressure from Châtel's disciplined and well-armed troops, and his apparent lack of support from Theodore, d'Ornano's devotion to the cause began to wane. At some point in June he opened a line of communication to Châtel and inquired about possible terms. Châtel extended Boissieux's longstanding offer—if his men were to lay down their arms, they would be spared, and d'Ornano himself would be permitted honorable exile. D'Ornano was of distinguished Corsican nobility and not especially keen to abandon the country; in Corsica he was an influential figure, but with a relatively modest fortune by the standards of continental nobility his "honorable exile" seemed likely to be obscure and uncomfortable. Furthermore, he was uncertain that he could actually force the bands of rebels under his command to disarm, and was reluctant to disband his own personal followers. Dissatisfied with the French offer, he decided to try negotiating, although Châtel warned him of the June 15th deadline which Boissieux had set.

    D'Ornano does seem to have come to some preliminary agreement with Châtel more congenial to d'Ornano's desires, but its implementation was delayed while Châtel communicated with Boissieux and d'Ornano discretely tested the waters among his officers as to a truce and disarmament. The Corsican victory at San Pellegrino, however, gave him pause, for there were competing rumors as to what exactly had happened. Initially there were widespread claims that the French had been completely wiped out. By the time the matter had been clarified, the deadline had expired, although since d'Ornano and Châtel had already come to an understanding this was probably not a significant obstacle to an accord. Had d'Ornano subsequently agreed to capitulate, it seems unlikely that Châtel or Boissieux would have turned him down, deadline notwithstanding.

    As these rumors were still circulating, Colonel Antonio Colonna-Bozzi had arrived in the south. A nephew of Chancellor Sebastiano Costa, Colonna was a young but already seasoned soldier who had served as a captain in the Genoese army before defecting to the rebel cause. He had been present at Theodore's council of war following the Battle of San Pellegrino in which the king had decided to evacuate the Nebbio without a fight. Colonna had argued the opposite, but once the matter was decided he had accepted the king's orders to travel south. Colonna, like Costa, was a native of the Dila, and Costa had suggested him to the king as a good candidate to travel south and determine the truth about d'Ornano's alleged treachery.

    Colonna found the resistance in the Dila in a dismal state. D'Ornano, occupied with his negotiations with Châtel, had allowed the military situation to degrade quite seriously. Discipline was lax, many men had gone home while the rest sat idle, and no defenses had been prepared against the French, who had been steadily encroaching inward while Châtel parlayed with his Corsican counterpart. Colonna made his findings known to d'Ornano. The general treated Colonna with respect—they were fellow southern noblemen, and in fact cousins by marriage—but he shrugged off Colonna's specific issues by complaining that any sort of campaigning or defense was impossible without munitions and supplies. Clearly that complaint was not wholly baseless, as Colonna himself was soon writing to Count Gianpietro Gaffori, Theodore's secretary of state, begging for more arms and ammunition, but a shortage of arms did not stop Colonna from taking action.

    As a mere colonel, Colonna could not simply commandeer the general's forces. He was, however, on his home turf. After his fruitless meeting with the general, he traveled to his family's hometown of Zigliara and raised a company of local volunteers and militiamen to supplement the small force he had brought over the mountains. On the 25th of June, this party ambushed a Franco-Genoese detachment at Cavara, killing twenty men and seizing several dozen muskets.

    Colonna's raid put d'Ornano into a bind. Châtel would presumably be upset, as there seems to have been an implicit cease-fire in effect while d'Ornano explored his diplomatic options. If he disavowed Colonna's actions, however, it would call into question how real d'Ornano's power really was, and if his control over the militants appeared to be slipping it would erode his leverage. Nor could d'Ornano take too much public umbrage with Colonna, for he was still ostensibly on the royalist side, and appearing conciliatory while Colonna was fighting—and, so far, winning—would undermine his credibility with his own men. D'Ornano's solution was to try and bluff Châtel, insinuating that the raid had been made with his knowledge and informing him that he was dissatisfied with the negotiations and the encroachments of the French. If the French wished to conciliate him and disarm his men, they would have to waste no more time and accept his demands in full. Châtel dismissed this as so much bluster, no doubt feeling confident as a result of news from the north that the Nebbio was swiftly falling to the French advance.

    Colonna, meanwhile, continued his campaign. Although his force numbered no more than 300 men, they were a picked corps of crack northern militia, detached regulars, and the loyal friends and kinsmen of his hometown, and they made themselves a serious nuisance to the French. Shielded by d'Ornano's inactivity, Châtel had overextended himself, spreading his three battalions (and some Genoese auxiliaries) over an ever-increasing swath of mountainous terrain. Colonna's company moved effortlessly between French outposts, seizing villages and then vanishing when the French arrived to recapture them, and laying ambushes for reinforcing columns and small patrols. His success put pressure on d'Ornano, whose somnolence invited unfavorable comparisons with Colonna and who bristled at accusations of timidity and cowardice. Once it became clear that Châtel had called his bluff and refused his demands, d'Ornano grudgingly resumed the war.

    While we have journals from several French officers involved in the Corsican campaign, the Marquis du Châtel is the only general officer who has left us a first-hand account. His description of the kind of warfare waged in the Dila is an excellent illustration of Corsican guerrilla tactics and the difficulty the French officers faced when dealing with such enemies:

    "Description de la guerre en Corse" said:
    The measures they have taken are to fortify themselves in all the posts that we might wish to occupy; to inundate the frontiers by their multitude; and to present us everywhere with threats to make us believe that they want to constantly attack us... They force us to make frequent detachments and keep us in a continual and painful movement because of the harshness of the marches in a country so difficult... We do not know who to trust; we find ourselves surrounded by suspicious persons, whose protestations of union and friendship are so many falsehoods, all the counsels of which are betrayals and warnings of snares made to rush you into some rash and fatal enterprise.

    On the 12th of July, royalist militiamen trapped a French garrison at Cavru and then ambushed a Franco-Genoese relief column, inflicting heavy casualties and killing a French major. After this encounter, Châtel attempted to consolidate his position, drawing back to a perimeter which roughly speaking enclosed the pieves of Ajaccio, Cinarca, and Mezzana. Even then, however, the French were unable to stop rebel infiltration. Unlike in the loyalist Nebbio, much of this region of the Dila outside of Ajaccio proper was generally sympathetic to the rebels. As the month went on, the rebels were bolstered further by a steady stream of munitions from the north. The royalist withdrawal from the northeast had resulted in a large amount of firearms, powder, and shot being moved to the royalists' new provisional capital of Corti, allowing Count Gaffori to finally fulfill d'Ornano's longstanding requests for aid.

    Colonna was not the only guerrilla commander to achieve success during the summer. Theodore's cousin, Lieutenant-General Johann Friedrich Caspar von Neuhoff zu Rauschenburg, had been badly trounced in open battle in the Balagna but had since rebuilt his forces in the interior. Together with his Westphalian kinsman and fellow general Matthias von Drost and the Niolesi colonel Felice Cervoni, Rauschenburg launched a series of raids into occupied Balagna. With the relocation of Rousset and Boissieux to the northeast, the Balagna region was held only by the two under-strength battalions of Brigadier Jean de Saignard, Sieur de Sasselange and several Genoese infantry companies of mediocre quality.[1] With a few hundred mountaineers and the help of sympathetic locals, Rauschenburg and his fellow captains endeavored to disrupt the occupation by any means, including acts of vengeance against collaborators, the assassination of Genoese officials, the destruction of supplies and produce that might be of military use to the French, and the occasional skirmish with French and Genoese garrison forces. The occupiers remained too strong for the "maquisards" to take any major settlements, but as in the Dila they proved capable of infiltrating the under-manned Balagnese frontier and causing substantial damage.

    Rauschenburg's raids were of particular concern to Commisioner-General Giovanni-Battista de Mari. Desperate to defray the heavy costs of the French expeditionary force, the Genoese Senate had placed the highest emphasis on returning the provinces of Balagna and the Nebbio to full productivity and re-establishing the colonial administration to resume the collection of taxes. From the point of view of the Genoese government, Boissieux's conflict in the Castagniccia—always a restive and economically marginal region—was far less important than the restoration of order in the Balagna. The senate had made its priorities abundantly clear to Mari, but the Republic's forces proved inept at stopping the royalist raids. The best they could do was to step up their reprisals against those suspected of helping Rauschenburg, but that only further disrupted and impoverished a province which the Republic needed to rebuild. Mari demanded more men from Boissieux, but the general angrily refused him; he was incensed that after more than a year of complaints about French inactivity, the commissioner was now insisting that he divert troops from the main theater of battle (as Boissieux saw it) in order to garrison farming villages which, believed Boissieux, the Genoese should have been fully capable of protecting against mere bandits.

    Despite these difficulties elsewhere, Boissieux's plan continued its seemingly inexorable progress. The second attempt to take Borgo had gone more smoothly than the first, thanks to a larger force accompanied by artillery and the Rattsky hussars. The next objective of Maréchal de Camp Jean-Charles de Gaultier de Girenton, Seigneur de Rousset was the royalist capital of Vescovato less than five miles south of Borgo. Despite some resistance, Rousset's division captured the village a few days later without much trouble. As an act of retribution, the family home of Lieutenant-General Andrea Ceccaldi was looted and burned to the ground. The tower of San Pellegrino, which Theodore and Ceccaldi had bravely defended against Brigadier Jean-Baptiste François, Marquis de Villemur, was captured on August 4th after just a few hours of bombardment by French land and naval artillery. Although portions of the eastern coast remained in rebel hands, the fall of Vescovato and San Pellegrino closed the main arteries of supply and communication from the east into the interior through the valleys of the Golo and Fiumalto. The noose around the rebels' neck which Boissieux had envisioned was nearly complete.



    Situation in Corsica in early August 1739
    Green: Royalist controlled
    Red: Genoese controlled
    Blue: French or joint Franco-Genoese occupation
    White: Unknown, neutral, or uninhabited

    Footnotes
    [1] A company of the royal artillery was also under Sasselange's command, but this unit seems to have been stationed permanently in Calvi.
     
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    Bio: Luca d'Ornano
  • Bio: Luca d'Ornano

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    Arms of the d'Ornano family, attested from the 17th century
    The illustrious house of d'Ornano was among the most venerable and influential of the noble families of Corsica. They are believed to have descended from the Counts of Cinarca, who played a key role in the island's early medieval history. Their name is linked by marriage with many other great families of Corsican history, but no ancestor is as famous as Sampiero Corso, the revered Corsican national hero.

    Sampiero was a 16th century Corsican condottiere who enjoyed a successful career in the service of the Valois kings of France. At the time, France was locked in a deadly rivalry with the Spanish Habsburgs and the Republic of Genoa was a Spanish ally. In 1553, Sampiero led an invasion of Genoese Corsica on the orders of the French king Henri II. His invasion met with considerable success, but broader political considerations compelled Henri to strike a truce with Genoa in 1556. The island remained divided between the French and Genoese until the conclusion of the war in 1559, at which point the entire island was returned to Genoa. The enmity between Sampiero and the Republic, however, had not ended.

    Sampiero had married the noble lady Vannina d'Ornano in 1545—he was 49 years old, she 15—and gained much status from the match, as Sampeiro's father was merely a commoner. While Sampiero was abroad in Constantinople, however, serving as a French envoy, Vannina was induced to betray him by a Genoese spy who had entered her confidence as a tutor for their children. Her exact reasons are unclear, but the d'Ornano family were partisans of Genoa, and it has also been proposed that she acted to protect her family in Corsica from retribution on account of their association by marriage to Sampiero. Whatever the reason, she liquidated all his property in his absence, selling his mansion in Marseilles and all his worldly possessions, and fled to Genoa. When Sampiero heard of this, he returned from abroad and strangled her to death with his own hands. The story is generally believed to have been an inspiration for Shakespeare's famous play Othello. Enraged, the d'Ornano family put an enormous price on his head, and in 1567 he was betrayed by his follower Vittolo (whose name subsequently became synonymous with treachery) to a group of assassins, including several of Vannina's cousins, who murdered Sampiero and cut off his head.

    The family which had bayed for Sampiero's blood, however, would come to revere him. Sampiero's son Alfonso adopted his mother's noble surname of d'Ornano, an obvious choice given the family's status relative to that of the common-born Sampiero, and pursued a military career of his own. He achieved high recognition and was made a Marshal of France; his son, Giovanni Battista, would also have that honor. Luca d'Ornano proudly counted himself among Alfonso's direct descendants, and thus of the bloodline of Sampiero himself.

    The d'Ornano family were usually supporters of Genoa during the Early Modern period, and it is not altogether clear why Luca d'Ornano became an early participant in the rebellion. The native nobility of Corsica had certainly been oppressed by the Genoese, who did all within their power to impoverish and marginalize them so that they would not be able to raise the island against Genoese rule, yet relatively few among the aristocracy joined the uprising in its early years. What is striking about Luca was not merely his enthusiasm for the cause, but his age—while the leadership of the rebellion was dominated by seasoned men well into middle age, Luca d'Ornano was only 28 years old when he gained his first major victory at the Battle of Ulmetu in 1732, leading 1,500 Corsicans against an Austro-Genoese force and liberating the town. He is said to have previously possessed a colonel's commission in the Genoese army, but his prior military experience seems to have been limited. When elected as a general of the nation alongside Luigi Giafferi, Giacinto Paoli, and Andrea Ceccaldi in 1735, he was only 31, less than half Giafferi's age.

    While a stalwart adherent of the national cause, Luca d'Ornano also kept the northern-dominated government at arm's length and rigorously preserved his autonomy in the south. The assassination of Giovanni Lusinchi in 1734 left d'Ornano as the most prominent rebel leader in the Dila, a role which he embraced wholeheartedly. With one notable exception in the person of Sebastiano Costa, most of the rebel leaders (and all his fellow "generals") were northerners with little influence on the other side of the mountains. They could only suggest that d'Ornano follow their general instructions, and he readily refused when his opinions on strategy differed with their own. To further underscore his autonomy, d'Ornano on occasion even summoned his own consulta in the south, to which he subjected the decisions of the "main" consulta in the north to be ratified or rejected. In principle, he was merely defending the rights of his fellow southerners who were underrepresented in the northern assemblies, but in practice these southern councils seem to have been little more than a rubber stamp on d'Ornano's own authority.

    Just as d'Ornano sought to preserve his independence in domestic and military affairs, he also charted an independent foreign policy. In 1735 he is known to have been an adherent of the "French faction" of Jacques Campredon, France's minister in Genoa, and he exchanged correspondence with the Genoese commissioner of the Dila Ottavio Grimaldi. Some have accused him of treachery, but prior to 1736 the idea that Corsica would or ought to be independent was uncommon and very controversial among the rebels themselves. Most assumed that the end goal of the rebellion was either to prompt an annexation by a foreign king or to force the Genoese to cave to the rebels' demands. Particularly in 1735, when the rebellion seemed to be nearing a terminal collapse, it was not altogether unreasonable that d'Ornano would explore his options and try to avoid staking his future and that of his southern fiefdom on the fate of the northern government.

    By late 1735, a serious breach seemed to be opening between d'Ornano and Costa's commonwealth, which had just been proclaimed in the north. As a means to placate d'Ornano and bind him to the new government, he was elected general in absentia by a consulta in Zicavo, but he refused to follow the commands of the new government and may never have actually recognized the authority of Costa's commonwealth. Perhaps he believed the commonwealth was destined to fail.

    Theodore's arrival changed everything. The king's election and coronation had taken place without d'Ornano, and it seemed possible that the breach might continue. Costa, who was the new king's Grand Chancellor and chief advisor, was still on poor terms with d'Ornano. A few days after the coronation, however, d'Ornano arrived in the north and met the king face to face. Theodore made an excellent impression upon him, and Luca swore his allegiance to the new king. D'Ornano was made a marquis, which surely gratified the prideful young general, and Theodore confirmed him in his position of general in the south (alongside Michele Durazzo, who was also granted the rank of lieutenant-general but was a less influential man who "only" received the noble title of count). Had the meeting between Theodore and Luca not gone as well, Theodore's kingdom would very likely have been still-born.

    As a military leader, d'Ornano's record was mixed. He gained initial victories over the Genoese following Theodore's arrival, but his management of the siege of Ajaccio was inept and failed to achieve much even after extraordinary effort was devoted to bringing artillery from over the mountains. Although a dedicated patriot, he was a prideful man who was irked by the greater attention and resources which Theodore devoted to the cause in the north. He was criticized and suspected of treachery for his flirtations with the French in 1739, but the general strongly objected to accusations that he sought to betray the national cause. From his perspective, 1739 seemed like another 1735—the northern government looked as if it were on the verge of falling, and he was not about to be undone by their failures. D'Ornano spoke contemptuously of the Genoese but admired the French; undoubtedly he hoped that, if the rebellion were to collapse, some accommodation with France (or even a French annexation) might be accomplished, and he had every intention of being a key figure in those negotiations if they were to take place.


    OTL Postscript

    Historically, Luca d'Ornano was one of the last field commanders to submit to the French during the First Intervention, but once he surrendered he quickly reconciled with Maillebois and was able to maintain his position without exile. He retained his royalist sympathies, and proclaimed his loyalty to Theodore as late as 1744, but in 1745 he seems to have buried the hatchet with the Genoese and was granted a lieutenant-colonel's commission by the Republic. Some sources allege a falling out with Gaffori and Matra, who dominated the rebel government at that time, because he resented their attempts to assert their authority on his turf. Although I have not found much information on his life during Paoli's rule, he does not seem to have renewed his previous revolutionary fervor; perhaps Paoli's republican ethos and his ostensibly more "democratic" regime were not to Luca's taste. Dying in 1779, he lived long enough to see the annexation of Corsica by France, and his family was among those recognized as noble by the new regime.

    The noble family of d'Ornano, now part of the French aristocracy, would remain prominent. Luca's eldest son, François Marie d'Ornano, fell afoul of the Revolution and was guillotined in 1794, but the clan's fortunes recovered through their association with Napoleon. The families of d'Ornano and Buonaparte were close neighbors and linked by marriage. Philippe Antoine d'Ornano, of a cadet line of the family, was a second cousin of Napoleon, became a commander of the imperial guard cavalry, married Napoleon's former mistress, was created "Comte d'Ornano" in 1808, and was made a Marshal of France by Napoleon III, the third member of the family to attain that dignity. Later members of the family included a number of center-right and right-wing French politicians. Presently, Mireille d'Ornano is a member of the European Parliament, formerly of the National Front (but quit the FN two months ago to join the "Patriots" party of Florian Philippot).
     
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    Bitter Harvest
  • Bitter Harvest

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    A stretch of the lower Golo River

    Having seized the coastal pieves of Mariana and Casinca, the southern advance of Maréchal de Camp Jean-Charles de Gaultier de Girenton, Seigneur de Rousset seemed unstoppable. The fall of San Pellegrino left Cervioni as the last major rebel-held position between the main French force in the northeast and the remnants of the eastern brigade under Brigadier Jean-Baptiste François, Marquis de Villemur, then at Aleria. Royalist Lieutenant-General Andrea Ceccaldi had recaptured Cervioni in the course of Villemur's retreat from San Pellegrino with a predominantly local force of militia, and that had been sufficient to dissuade counterattacks from Villemur, whose operational strength had declined by more than half since the beginning of the campaign. Against Rousset's division, however—or worse, Villemur and Rousset together—Ceccaldi's position appeared impossible.

    Such a pincer movement is exactly what Rousset intended, but his full force was hardly necessary. On the 7th of August, he ordered the Île de France regiment under Lieutenant-Colonel du Terme du Saux, his company of artillery, and the first squadron of the Rattsky hussars to proceed towards Cervioni and dispatched orders to Brigadier Villemur to rendezvous with him at the coast. Ceccaldi caught wind of Saux's march and attempted to ambush his reinforced battalion, but he lost the element of surprise on account of the hussars and was forced to retreat in disarray when a French frigate off the coast began bombarding his men. The loss of the rebel ports to the French advance had permitted the French naval squadron to curtail its anti-smuggling patrols and coordinate its movements more closely with the army, and Ceccaldi had no answer to such firepower.

    Despite continued harassment, he could not prevent Villemur and Saux from combining forces. Ceccaldi's force, outnumbered and outgunned, was defeated east of Cervioni on the 11th. Falling back into the town, the royalists managed to hold it against an initial attack, but it was clear their position would be untenable once the French artillery was in place. Once the bombardment began in earnest, Ceccaldi led his remaining forces into the valley of Alesani, surrendering Cervioni to the French once more. Franco-Genoese forces now controlled nearly the entire eastern coastal plain.

    News from the Dila was hardly more encouraging. Maréchal de Camp Louis-François Crozat, Marquis du Châtel had been caught by surprise by the guerrilla tactics of Colonel Antonio Colonna-Bozzi and had ceded ground initially, but he and his officers soon regrouped and responded by launching reprisals against villages which sheltered the rebels or expelling their population entirely. On the 8th of August, Colonna's party was betrayed by an informer (or so alleges Costa) and struck in a prolonged and bloody firefight against a French force. The Corsicans were badly mauled and Colonna barely escaped with his life. Following this victory, Châtel went back on the offensive, and sent the Marquis de Valence with the Béarn regiment to attack Vico. Vico and its environs had not long ago been the stronghold of the indifferenti, and were not the most enthusiastic royalists. The town surrendered to Valence without a fight, and most of the rest of the sparsely-populated region capitulated soon thereafter.

    It is worth noting that the loss of the province of Vico was not as important to the rebels as it might have seemed on a map. The northwestern Dila was, and remains, one of the least populated and most isolated parts of the country. It provided few men or resources for the royalist cause, and its rugged terrain and treacherous coastline meant that was of no great use to Corsican smugglers either. As a springboard into the interior it was practically useless, owing to the forbidding mountains to the east. The only men who traversed those mountains with regularity were the Niolesi mountaineers, against whom a single French battalion would not suffice to prevent the infiltration of the province. Still, the continued loss of territory to the rebels did nothing to help rebel morale.

    One of the contributing factors to the difficulties of the rebels at this time was that late summer was the season of the harvest, when many of the rebel fighters returned to their villages. Local forces could still muster briefly when a threat arose, as happened at Borgo in mid-July, but Theodore's standing forces were small and unable to hold and defend much territory against the forces which the French possessed. Marquis Luca D'Ornano offered the same explanation for his lack of action against the French in the south; he simply could not find the men to confront the Franco-Genoese forces in Cinarca and Ajaccio, let alone defend Vico.

    It was an opportune time to attack, but once he had completed his coastal campaign Rousset moved cautiously. Though quite successful, the French campaign had come at a bitter cost; of the more than 9,000 French soldiers on Corsica at the height of the operation, nearly a third had been lost, either dead, captured, or incapacitated by wounds or disease. Disease in particular was taking a frightening toll on the French, as the bulk of their forces on the island were now encamped on the malarial eastern seaboard. Even in their moment of triumph, an apothecary's journal reports soldiers dropping like flies.

    Rousset was conscious of the health issues presented by his position, and endeavored to take positions in the foothills where the air was more congenial. The key positions in the east were, from north to south, Borgo, Vescovato, Talasani, and Cervioni, each roughly five miles from its neighbor. Controlling these posts allowed him to permanently block rebel traffic to the sea between Bastia and Aleria, while his battalions could reinforce one another if the rebels launched another attack. Aside from some occasional skirmishing, however, an attack was not forthcoming.

    The royalist government had withdrawn to Morosaglia in Rostino. Residing in the Convent of St. Francis there, King Theodore did his best to keep up the spirits of his increasingly pessimistic generals. A subdued meeting of the war council had concluded that a major French advance up the Golo, which seemed the most likely route of attack into the interior, would be almost impossible to stop. Resistance in the river gorge might slow down such an advance; there were several points, like the Ponte Novo ("new bridge") over the Golo at Castello di Rostino, where a small force might hold back a larger one for a time. Adjutant-General Edward Sarsfield, Viscount Kilmallock, Theodore's brother-in-law, occupied himself with making a survey of the lower Golo while continuing to supervise the drill of the regular forces.

    The syndicate arsenal was still considerable and had been relocated to Corti under the command of Secretary Gianpietro Gaffori, but concerns over food were more pressing. Although the weather was good and the harvest no worse than most years, disruptions caused by the war made supplying soldiers difficult. In late August, Theodore was compelled to release several hundred French prisoners because he simply could not feed them. Most of the released were enlisted men, as Theodore still hoped the officers, particularly Colonel Armand de Bourbon, Comte de Malauze, who had been captured at San Pellegrino, might be useful bargaining chips. The "paroled" men were required to swear an oath that they would not fight against the Corsicans for the remainder of the year, but it is questionable whether the French considered themselves bound by oaths to rebels.

    There was a general sense that the cause was slipping away, and dissent was growing. Rumors of defections within the rebel ranks. In August, no fewer than eight men were hanged or shot on the order of the king for consorting with the enemy. Two men entered the convent at Morosaglia and attempted to kill the king, a plot which was allegedly foiled only by the vigilance of Theodore's Muslim servant Montecristo,[1] who heard the men breaking in and raised a cry of alarm. Theodore was unharmed, and the would-be regicides—both Corsicans, albeit allegedly in Genoese pay—were captured by the leibgarde and hanged. Theodore, attempting to raise morale, assured his followers that foreign help would undoubtedly be on its way, and acted as if there was some secret plot involving unnamed foreign backers which would soon bear fruit. True, he had delivered before—the arrival of the syndicate armada had been an astonishing coup—but his promises were met now with increasing skepticism.

    The only place where royalist fortune seemed to be holding was in the north, where Lieutenant-General Johann Friedrich Caspar von Neuhoff zu Rauschenburg continued to raid into the occupied Balagna. Because his troops were mainly Niolesi and other pastoralists who did little farming, the harvest season had less impact upon him. His raids continued to infuriate the Genoese, who were hoping that a strong harvest in the northern provinces would help the woeful state of their finances, and cursed as Rauschenburg's commandos burned granaries and storehouses. As August dragged on without a serious French incursion into the interior, other commanders began to follow his lead. In particular, the passes of Lento and Bigorno above the lower Golo allowed Corsican fighters to infiltrate into the southern Nebbio, where they rustled livestock, stole food from granaries, and shot at Genoese patrols.

    This situation became serious enough that Rousset decided to take action. He had the backing of Boissieux, who had largely recovered from his earlier ailment but was still in a fragile state of health, and not as resilient as he once was to incessant Genoese demands. Rousset proposed marching up the Golo as far as Lento so as to deny the rebels the use of the mountain passes to attack the Nebbio, and placed three brigades under the command of Louis Georges Erasme, Marquis de Contades to accomplish this. Contades had not gone far before meeting resistance from the natives, which was not well-organized but proved extremely difficult to quash. At every narrow point in the road or bend in the river, the French column was assailed by small bands of local militiamen who could not hope to destroy the invaders but could bog them down for hours. After a painfully slow march westwards through innumerable skirmishes, there was a fierce battle for the mountain village of Lento, in which according to legend fewer than a hundred Corsicans held back more than a thousand Frenchmen for a full day. The numbers are likely an exaggeration, particularly when we consider that Kilmallock supposedly dispatched a hundred-man guard company to support the local militia. Still, it is clear that Contades' force vastly outnumbered their opponents yet still suffered a thorough bloodletting. The Corsicans could not hold the village, but were able to withdraw with only light casualties.

    Despite such heroic stands, by the end of August the royalist frontiers nevertheless seemed to be contracting everywhere. Even the Genoese had made gains in the south as villages in the environs of Porto Vecchio and Propriano agreed to come back into the arms of the Republic to escape punishment. Only the quick action of Lieutenant-General Michele Durazzo in the south had prevented Sartena from capitulating as well, and his position there was precarious. The French, however, were now more thinly spread than ever before, obligated by Boissieux's plan to hold an extensive cordon through difficult terrain encircling the inland rebel state.



    Situation in Corsica in early August 1739
    Green: Royalist controlled
    Red: Genoese controlled
    Blue: French or joint Franco-Genoese occupation
    White: Unknown, neutral, or uninhabited


    Footnotes
    [1] Montecristo was a "Turk" (although he was probably from the Barbary states) who had been a galley slave of the Grand Duke of Tuscany but was released on the request of Theodore and had remained in the king's service ever since. His actual name was "Muhammad," but Theodore already had another servant named Muhammad, and thus decided to name him for one of the Tuscan islands off Corsica's coast—the Isle of Montecristo.
     
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    The Pivot
  • The Pivot

    That their Imperial and most Christian Majesties do mutually promise and declare, that they will never suffer the Island of Corsica, under any Pretence whatsoever, to depart from the Government of the Republic of Genoa; that they will take proper measures to prevent the Designs of any Power whatsoever that shall endeavor to seize said Island; that they will offer their Assistance to the Republic to enable them to subdue the Rebels, and at the same time guarantee their other Dominions until the Rebels shall be reduced to Obedience; and it is added, that even though the Republic should refuse these Offers, the two contracting Powers shall nevertheless take the necessary measures to extinguish the said Rebellion of the Corsicans.

    - The Treaty of Fontainebleau, 1737

    Just before the fall of Vico, Lieutenant-General Matthias von Drost had arrived in the Dila. Drost's history and relationship to Theodore are rather murky. Although referred to by contemporaries as the king's "nephew" in the same manner as Johann Friedrich Caspar von Neuhoff zu Rauschenburg, Theodore's first cousin, there is no indication that Drost was as close to Theodore genealogically, and he was never referred to with the surname of Neuhoff.[1] It is generally presumed that he was a more distant cousin. Of his history we know little; certainly he was a Westphalian, but at some point prior to 1738 he was apparently in the service of the Grand Duchy of Tuscany in a military capacity. That may be why we find him arriving in Corsica bearing smuggled arms from Livorno in early 1739, for perhaps his contacts in the Grand Duchy proved useful in arranging covert transport. Curiously, the Genoese published a tract claiming that he was not Theodore's relation at all, nor even German, but an Italian from Livorno named "Salvini." This seems likely to be some sort of confusion with Father Gregorio Salvini, an actual rebel agent in Livorno.

    Drost had briefly been in the north with Rauschenburg, but had gone south either on Theodore's orders or his own initiative. Although Drost did not arrive with a large number of soldiers or munitions, he was nevertheless well-received by Lieutenant-General Marquis Luca d'Ornano, who seemed gratified to have one of the king's "nephews" pay him court, and made friends with Colonel Antonio Colonna-Bozzi immediately. His presence useful to Colonna, for although Colonna and d'Ornano were cousins by marriage, Colonna's influence over him on military matters was limited. Drost, named lieutenant-general by the king, was d'Ornano's equal in rank, but more importantly he was a blood representative of the king, and thus someone whom the marquis was required to take seriously as long as he was an avowed royalist. Drost and Colonna were frustrated by d'Ornano's failure to act during the summer, but by early September men were beginning to return from the fields. Thanks to the logistical efforts of Colonna and Secretary Gianpietro Gaffori, these men could also be armed and supplied with ammunition.

    The French and Genoese evidently did not expect much from d'Ornano. Although the general's contact with Maréchal de Camp Louis-François Crozat, Marquis du Châtel had slackened of late, Châtel believed that d'Ornano was still seeking a way out and would be unwilling to fight. Already spread somewhat thin and mindful of the attrition he had suffered to Colonna's troops, Châtel does not seem to have laid plans for further offensives, but when he received word of a gathering rebel force at the nearby village of Peri he ordered Colonel Alexandre-Auguste de Grivel, Marquis d'Ourouer, to take several French companies and a number of Genoese auxiliaries to drive them off and seize any arms there. It is important to note that although the Genoese had more than a thousand men in the Ajaccio district, most of these were filogenovesi militiamen. Grimaldi seems to have had only about 150 Genoese regulars under his command, as well as 200 Greek militia. The Greeks had proved stalwart defenders of Ajaccio but were not trusted in the field by their Genoese commanders, who thought them unruly and difficult. As the defense of the city could not be trusted to the Greeks alone, most of the Genoese regulars were stationed there too, which meant that any "Genoese" troops in the field were almost entirely Corsicans with a few Genoese officers.

    In fact Marquis d'Ornano himself had ordered the muster of militia throughout Celavo, of which Peri was only the most westward meeting point. It is possible that Drost convinced him to renew the fight now that the harvest season was ending, but d'Ornano was surely aware of how badly the situation seemed to be going in the north. It may be more likely that marshaling the militia was an attempt to bolster his negotiating position with the French by demonstrating that, despite Colonna's defeat and the fall of Vico, he remained a force to be taken seriously. If the latter interpretation is true, d'Ourouer's attack was certainly a blunder, for it compelled d'Ornano to fight or lose face. The militia at Peri, numbering less than a hundred men, fled the village on the approach of d'Ourouer's force, but they soon sought aid from the marquis. He could not refuse them.

    On the afternoon of September 2nd, d'Ourouer's force fell under attack by around 700 royalist militiamen led by d'Ornano personally. To d'Ourouer's dismay, most of the filogenovesi militia fired but once and fled as soon as they had discharged their muskets; some did not even stand that long. Abandoned by their allies, the French were overwhelmed and forced to withdraw back into the pieve of Ajaccio. D'Ornano did not immediately follow up this victory, explaining to Drost that he had to gather more men. In fact action was not taken until around the 10th, when d'Ornano invaded Cinarca with more than a thousand men. His defeat of a Genoese force at Casaglione threatened to drive a wedge through the French-held sector, cutting off Vico from Ajaccio.

    Châtel, determining that Vico was too difficult and remote to hold in the wake of d'Ornano's renewed hostility, ordered the Marquis de Valence to withdraw his battalion from there and return to Cinarca. Inexplicably, however, Valence decided that instead of taking the marginally safer southwestern route to the coast via the Sagone valley, he would march down the rocky gorge of the Liamone due south. An encounter with some Corsican rebels there should have illustrated the danger, but after fighting a brief skirmish Valence pressed on, while the Corsicans reported the French advance to their captains. On September 17th, while attempting to cross a stone bridge over the Liamone, his battalion was ambushed by Drost and Colonna and soundly thrashed. Valence escaped unharmed, but reportedly more than 150 Frenchmen were killed. Allegedly this high death toll was due to the fact that having heard that Theodore did not have the means to supply prisoners, Drost ordered that none should be taken. Châtel himself noted that he had received reports of Corsicans executing prisoners and bayoneting wounded men.

    This defeat represented a serious setback for Châtel, who only had three battalions of his own. Furthermore, the performance of the Genoese at Peri demonstrated that their militia forces could not be relied upon in field operations. Meanwhile, d'Ornano's host steadily grew. With his men in danger of being isolated and overwhelmed in their inland posts, Châtel reluctantly ordered a withdrawal from much of the occupied territory. Vico and Cinarca were abandoned to the royalists save for the coastal villages of Sagone and Tiuccia, and these posts were held only by the actions of the Genoese fleet, as it became difficult for the French to reach them by land.

    Meanwhile rebel territory continued to recede in the north, where Brigadier Anne de Montmorency-Luxembourg, Comte de Montmorency invaded the strategic Ostriconi valley from the eastern Balagna. Novella and Pietralba were captured without much resistance, although Rauschenburg's men subsequently raided French supply trains in the valley. The pieve of Caotera had been recently wrested from the rebels by Louis Georges Erasme, Marquis de Contades, in a successful bid to keep the rebels out of the Nebbio, but it was proving difficult to hold. The proximity to the rebellious pieves of Rostino and Casaconi meant that there was a constant danger of rebel attacks. That necessitated a substantial French presence, but the narrow paths between mountain villages made for a considerable logistical strain. The troops themselves also resented being posted in such difficult and often squalid conditions, while also being subject to Corsican attacks at any time.

    The success of Boissieux's summer campaign had, for a time, silenced critical voices in Paris. The Battle of the Balagna had been the grand and sweeping victory which the French had long awaited, and this was followed by the swift fall of the Nebbio and the liberation of Bastia. Brigadier Jean-Baptiste François, Marquis de Villemur's disaster in the east had caused considerable consternation, even shock, but as Boissieux had not been in personal command he was able to foist it off on a combination of Villemur's own mistakes, the poor support offered by the French naval squadron under the Marquis de Sabran, and the ill air of Corsica. Boissieux, however, had over-promised—he had assured his superiors that the rebels, once cut off from the world, would lose their courage and agree to terms, thus sparing French lives from needless waste. Yet by September's end, the rebels were still fighting and French casualties were still growing.

    Boissieux's strategy of containment was beginning to show its shortcomings. The rebels could, in theory, be waited out given sufficient time, but as long as they were unmolested in the "national redoubt" of the interior they could recover from defeats and use this highland base to launch raids wherever the French were weakest. Lack of arms might eventually exhaust their ability to resist, but not lack of food, for while there was not a vast surplus by which Theodore could feed hundreds of prisoners the highlanders had chestnuts and goat's milk enough to sustain themselves in the mountains. Incessant skirmishing bled away French forces and disease exacted an even heavier toll. Hopes that Theodore's support would crumble appeared to be overly optimistic; some had indeed deserted the rebel cause, but most of Theodore's core generals remained loyal. The most promising potential defection, that of d'Ornano, had been irrevocably bungled—or perhaps, as Châtel later proposed, he had never been serious at all.

    The Genoese, who had always been critical of Boissieux, finally began to gain some purchase with their complaints to the French court. Annoyed at the length and human cost of what was supposed to be little more than the suppression of bandits, the chief minister Cardinal André-Hercule de Fleury made his unhappiness known to the Secretary of State for War, Nicolas Prosper Bauyn d'Angervilliers, who in turn demanded action from Boissieux. Boissieux responded that he would need more men to make a decisive blow against the rebels given his losses thus far. Angervilliers was skeptical, but could see some sense in it; although Fleury was hesitant towards the idea of pouring more men into the Corsican quagmire, if a "surge" of soldiers could overcome the rebels in one fell swoop it would be a better use of resources than continuing the slow grind of the blockade.

    The problem, as usual, was the Genoese Senate. They had learned through Commandant Grimaldi of the negotiations between Châtel and d'Ornano, which they interpreted in the least favorable light possible; it seemed to them as if the French might be attempting to subvert d'Ornano for their own devices. There was also the extremely dysfunctional relationship between Boissieux and the Genoese commissioner-general Giovanni-Battista de Mari, owing to Mari's insistence on a draconian policy and Boissieux's view that his actions only inflamed the Corsicans to rebel. Boissieux was infuriated by a proposed plan promulgated by the Genoese Senate after the recapture of Bastia, which he summed up as follows:
    • Recovery of war expenditures and taxes not collected for 10 years
    • Establishment of a body of troops and officials of justice at the expense of the Corsicans
    • Compensation for Corsicans loyal to the Republic who suffered from the war
    • Expulsion of families of those responsible for the revolt and confiscation of their property
    • Expulsions of priests and monks who gave aid to the revolt
    • Importation of foreign colonists
    • Destruction of various villages, the chestnut trees of Alesani and other centers of rebellion, and most of the convents
    It was no wonder, in Boissieux's mind, that the rebels resisted so fiercely, when the alternative presented to them was their utter ruination. Mari, in turn, reported French resistance to the Senate's regulations back to the august body, fuming that the French had no regard for the Republic's sovereignty over its own territory. These objections were hardly new, and in previous years they had made no difference because the Genoese had no other choice but to accept French help and its attendant costs. By October of 1739, however, this was no longer the case.

    cV1jALk.jpg

    Count Neipperg, widely blamed for the botched Treaty of Belgrade

    For the Habsburgs, the summer of 1739 had been an unmitigated disaster. The empire had been a belated participant in the Russo-Turkish War (1735-1739), for neither Emperor Karl VI nor his ministers had much interest in territorial expansion at the expense of the Ottomans at that time. Their only concern was preserving their alliance with Russia, which had been Austria’s only major ally during the recent War of Polish Succession. Although the emperor was uneasy about Russia’s ambitions in the Balkans, he ultimately considered his participation necessary to preserve the Russian alliance and avoid diplomatic isolation. After long delays by Vienna's diplomats, Austria could play for time no longer, and finally joined the fight in 1737.

    Despite being reluctant belligerents, the Austrians had every expectation that the war would go their way. The Habsburgs and Ottomans had long been foes, but Austria had clearly had the upper hand since the Ottoman army was broken at the gates of Vienna by the Holy League in 1683. The 1699 Treaty of Karlowitz, which ended the Great Turkish War that had started at Vienna's gates, marked the first major Ottoman territorial loss in Europe. The Ottomans were forced to yield Hungary, Slavonia, and Croatia to the Habsburgs. The Porte’s attempt at a revanche in 1716-18 was scarcely more successful, and they were forced to cede Northern Serbia, Bosnian Posavina, the Banat, and Oltenia to the Habsburgs in the Treaty of Passarowitz. The Ottoman Empire was perceived as weak and crumbling, and despite the ominously poor showing of Austrian armies in the recent War of Polish Succession there was little doubt in Vienna that the Ottomans would stand no chance the Austrian armies that had been humiliating them for the last half century.

    Austria, however, was recently bereft of the services of the great Prince Eugene of Savoy (who had inconveniently died in 1736 on the eve of this new conflict), and proved incapable of finding anyone capable of filling his shoes. Although the Austrians won a few battles in the field, their inept commanders were unable to make use of them. By the spring of 1739 no serious progress had been made and all belligerent parties were looking for a way out. A treaty based upon the status quo ante bellum was a distinct possibility until the summer campaign, in which the Austrian army was defeated at Grocka and withdrew. Although Belgrade still stood, the peace talks were bungled badly by poor communication and rivalry between Field Marshal George Olivier Wallis and Count Wilhelm Reinhard von Neipperg, who was Wallis’ subordinate and yet had been given plenipotentiary authority to conduct negotiations because of Vienna’s distrust of Wallis after his failure at Grocka. The result was that the imperial court, believing that the war was about to turn in their favor because of a few minor victories near Belgrade and long-overdue progress on the Russian front, was shocked to learn that their representative had agreed to a treaty on August 1st which not only ceded Belgrade without a fight but all the lands gained at Passarowitz in 1718 except the Banat north of the Danube. Renouncing the treaty was impossible; the French had already countersigned it in their role as mediators, Neipperg had already allowed the Turks to take possession of Belgrade’s gates as a preliminary to ratification, and Vienna was not eager for the unfortunate war to drag on any longer. Austria reluctantly ratified the humiliating Treaty of Belgrade and then took its revenge on Wallis and Neipperg, who were both disgraced, imprisoned, and brought up on charges of cowardice and incompetence.[A]

    Austria had been a signatory, along with France and Genoa, of the Treaty of Fontainebleau, in which it had agreed in principle to commit troops to end the Corsican rebellion. Austrian entry into the Russo-Turkish War had prevented that from transpiring, but as soon as the ratification of the Treaty of Belgrade became known it was again a subject of debate in Genoa, Vienna, and Paris. The Genoese desire for Austrian occupation was tempered by the prospective cost, for Vienna would be no more willing to pay its own way than France. What attracted them was that an imperial presence could act as a shield against possible French ambitions on the island. While the French might conceivably seize the island from the Genoese they would not dare attack an imperial garrison.

    Intervention was, in retrospect, not in the obvious interest of Vienna. Corsica was of little consequence to Habsburg power, and the friendship of Genoa was not worth much. Genoa was still closely aligned with and reliant upon Spain, perhaps an even greater Habsburg rival than France because of competing Austrian-Spanish claims in Italy. Coming just after an ignominious defeat in the Balkans, the timing was also poor. The Turkish war had been hugely expensive, and the prospect of having to raise special taxes to continue funding it was a strong reason that the emperor had not contested the unfortunate Treaty of Belgrade. The war had also exposed serious deficiencies in the leadership and organization of the Austrian army which ought to have demanded the attention of the emperor and his general staff and taken precedence over Mediterranean adventurism.

    Nevertheless, the emperor was not entirely averse to the idea. The Habsburgs had suffered the loss of Naples to the Spanish Bourbons in the recent War of Polish Succession, and imperial intervention in Corsica could serve as a demonstration of continued Austrian influence and interest in the region. A demonstration of imperial power would also be welcome after the humiliation of Belgrade. As for cost, it was presumed that the Republic would pay the bills for the intervention force just as they had with the French. There was, of course, no prospect of an agreement being reached in October, and perhaps not for months to come, for messages had to be conveyed between Genoa, Vienna, and Florence, and proposals and counter-proposals would need to be debated and revised by the Genoese Senate and the emperor's ministers.

    The man who pressed hardest for the intervention was certainly Franz Stefan, Grand Duke of Tuscany and son-in-law of the emperor. The grand duke had held a position of high command in the Balkans, but this post was completely honorary and the imperial defeat did not reflect on him. He was, in any case, more interested in his own possessions. Although the expected succession of his wife Maria Theresa to the Habsburg crown lands would make him a queen's consort, he still desired a royal crown of his own in order to be a king in his own right. In early 1737 his eye had been upon Corsica, nearly within sight of his new possession of Tuscany, but his assignment to the Balkans had interrupted his plans. The continued difficulties of the French in Corsica suggested that his window of opportunity was not yet shut.

    Franz Stefan actively promoted the Corsican mission to his father-in-law and downplayed French difficulties in Corsica as the product of Boissieux's somnolence and the cack-handed execution of the French. It was a shame, he argued, that the French were now intervening where once the Genoese had turned to imperial might; to leave the matter entirely to France would only cause Habsburg influence in Italy to wane further. At the same time, the grand duke's agents quietly assured the Genoese that imperial intervention was imminent, and that the grand duke would ensure that the Genoese received favorable terms. Genoa had little reason to trust the duke, whose scheming was known to them, but they feared Franz less than the French, and if the grand duke could deliver imperial troops at affordable rates then his friendship was worth pursuing. Assured by Franz Stefan that the Austrians would soon be showing up with a better deal, it is no wonder that the Genoese Senate felt confident enough to stall French proposal to send additional forces.

    The Grand Duke of Tuscany was not alone in pressing Vienna to intervene. Although the British government had no interest in the fate of Theodore and his rebels, they were concerned about the continued French presence in Corsica. Curiously, they seem to have believed that Naples, not France, was the most likely recipient of the island if the Bourbons were to annex it, but this outcome was no more satisfying than a French takeover. Accordingly, the British representatives in Vienna attempted to impress upon the emperor and his ministers how undesirable it would be if France (or Naples) were to gain permanent control over the island. Emperor Karl did not entirely trust the British, who despite their mutual alliance had chosen to remain neutral during the War of Polish Succession, but he shared their concern for Bourbon expansionism in the Italian sphere.[B]


    Situation in Corsica in late September 1739
    Green: Royalist controlled
    Red: Genoese controlled
    Blue: French or joint Franco-Genoese occupation
    White: Unknown, neutral, or uninhabited

    Footnotes
    [1] Matthias' title of "von Drost" has often been seized upon to connect him to Theodore's uncle, Franz Bernhard Johann, who was often known as the "Baron von Drost." Drost, however, was not a place but a title, used in Westphalia and the Low Countries to mean a kind of bailiff or steward. Franz Bernhard was Drost zu Nienrade, Altena, und Iserlohn, and seems to have used this seemingly lesser title as a gesture to his Theodore; as his nephew and ward had been disinherited of his patrimony (to the benefit of Franz Bernhard himself), apparently his uncle thought he should at least keep his name. Franz Bernhard had no son named Matthias, nor does the name appear anywhere else among Theodore's close relations.

    Timeline Notes
    [A] This is all OTL: Nothing about the outcome of the Austro-Turkish war of 1737-39 has changed ITTL. Although not really relevant to the story of Corsica, it's interesting to note the long life of the Belgrade treaty. The Habsburgs had no reason to see the Treaty of Belgrade as a permanent settlement; it was the result of a poorly-run campaign and an embarrassing diplomatic blunder, and generally assumed to be a momentary setback in what would undoubtedly be a continued Austrian march southwards into the Balkans. The Prussian conquest of Silesia in the WoAS, however, caused Habsburg attention to be increasingly diverted to Europe and in due course to the emerging "German Question." As a result, apart from a brief re-establishment of Austrian control over part of Serbia between 1788 and 1792, the Austro-Turkish border established in 1739 remained essentially static until the Habsburg annexation of Bosnia in 1908.
    [B] Although a joint occupation by the Bourbons and Habsburgs, the two great continental rivals, seems fantastical, the Austrian intervention in Corsica nearly happened IOTL. The emperor was willing to join the French occupation and went so far as to instruct his deputies in Livorno and Milan to be ready to send troops. The Genoese delayed for a time because they were concerned about cost, but the proposal for a joint Franco-Austrian occupation still seems to have been on track until the emperor died on October 20th of 1740, starting the War of Austrian Succession.
     
    Forced Hand
  • Forced Hand

    Vl0jX2V.png

    Verdese in the hills of the Castagniccia

    France was not opposed to imperial intervention in Corsica in principle. The French, after all, had specifically approved it in the Treaty of Fontainebleau which they had signed with Genoa and Austria in 1737. Vienna's action on this treaty had been preempted by the outbreak of war with the Ottomans, but presumably if an imperial presence on Corsica had been completely intolerable to the French their negotiators would not have agreed to the treaty in the first place. Perhaps desiring to establish Genoa and its dominions as a de facto French dependency, the French chief minister Cardinal André-Hercule de Fleury was clearly not eager to share the "pacifying mission" with the emperor, but the mere proposal of an imperial occupying force as permitted by the treaty did not pose a serious threat to French policy.

    What alarmed Fleury and his fellow ministers was the prospect of British involvement. The British, of course, were not signatories of the Fontainebleau treaty and could not intervene on Corsica even if they wanted to. At that moment they had bigger issues on their plate, having declared war on Spain on October 22nd over matters of colonial trade.[A] The activity of their ministers in Vienna, however, was noted by French intelligence, and given the alliance between Austria and Britain it seemed plausible that imperial intervention could act as an opening for British influence in Corsica, precisely what France had been trying to prevent by intervening in the first place. The French consul in Livorno reported that the imperial commander there, Lieutenant-General Karl Franz von Wachtendonck, was believed to have regular conversations with both the English consul Burrington Goldsworthy and Corsican rebel agents. Rumors that Grand Duke Franz Stefan of Tuscany was also involved only strengthened their suspicions, as his clumsy attempts to influence the rebel movement for his own purposes in 1737 were well known to the French. All clues seemed to point to some sort of British-Tuscan-Corsican plot to pry the island away from Genoa and into the British sphere of influence, in which Emperor Karl VI was either an unwitting dupe or an eager accomplice.[1]

    While generally opposed to the idea of new French deployments on Corsica, the Genoese knew their position was as weak diplomatically as it was militarily. The French had every right to dispose of their forces on Corsica as they wished; the Treaty of Fontainebleau, which the Genoese had signed, contained a provision that “even though the Republic should refuse these offers [of assistance]” the French and Austrians “shall nevertheless take the necessary measures to extinguish the said Rebellion.” Furthermore, even the most paranoid senators had to admit that but for French help Corsica would likely have been lost in its entirety. The Senate had to walk a thin line—if they meekly allowed the French to act as they pleased they feared a French takeover, but if they acted with too much hostility the French might simply pack up and leave, which might not only lose them Corsica but cause a diplomatic breach with France with serious consequences for the security of the state.

    The only coercive power which Genoa possessed was the power of the purse. The implementation agreement with the French had required a financial obligation of two million pounds, of which 700,000 were paid up front. By the autumn of 1739, that two million figure had been met and exceeded. The Republic could not deny France the right to land troops on Corsica, but it could refuse to pay for them, forcing Paris to saddle the financial obligations for a war it was waging on Genoa’s behalf. Certainly France could pay their way, for despite the notorious problems and inefficiencies of the French fiscal system and military administration the Corsican venture was a minor affair by the standards of the mightiest state in Europe. There was a general unwillingness in the French government, however, to shoulder the whole financial responsibility for what was seen as Genoa’s fight. That Genoa should refuse to pay for what was essentially a favor from Paris seemed immensely ungrateful.

    As diplomats, consuls, and senators sparred, there was a continual and ever-growing pressure on the French commander in Corsica, Lieutenant-General Louis de Frétat, Marquis de Boissieux. His government had already begun to grow weary of his strategy of containment, which seemed to produce no progress despite mounting casualties. The morale of the troops was low, diplomatic relations with Genoa were at their lowest ebb, and Theodore's rebellion did not appear to be collapsing with any rapidity. The defeat of a French battalion at the Battle of Ponte Truggia on September 17th, followed by the loss of most of Vico and Cinarca to the rebels, appeared to illustrate the exact opposite—the rebels were not only still willing to fight, but were on the offensive. All this was bad enough, but the specter of imperial intervention and fears of a British-backed plot really put the screws to the general. If he could not deliver, and deliver soon, Versailles would replace him with someone who could.

    In mid-October, Boissieux had ordered a large-scale attack by Brigadier Villemur into Ampugnani and Casaconi with around 2,000 infantrymen and hussars. The attack managed to catch Lieutenant-General Count Andrea Ceccaldi quite off guard, as he had been anticipating an attack in Alesani. The local militia was crushed, and an Ampugnani native, Captain Gio Tomaso Franzini, gained the honor of being the first Knight of the Order of Deliverance to be killed in battle. After a few losing skirmishes in which the Corsicans were swiftly overwhelmed by superior numbers of Frenchmen, Ceccaldi withdrew his command into the town of Verdese. Shielded by dense forests and rough terrain, Ceccaldi and an Orezzan native, Colonel Sampiero di Piazzole, were able to hold out in the vales of Orezza, where royalist sentiment was strong. Elsewhere, such as in Ampugnani, many villages capitulated rather than suffer the consequences of resistance, as Villemur did not spare punishment from those who supported the rebels.

    With more time, Boissieux might have completed the conquest of the Castagniccia, even with the difficult terrain and fierce defenders of Orezza. Even in the Castagniccia, the faith of common Corsicans in the success of the rebellion was clearly waning, as evidenced by the much feebler response to this new advance than Villemur's invasion of Alesani several months prior. The aforementioned diplomatic developments, however, forced a change of plans. Villemur's attack had been intended to deal a body blow to rebel morale by conquering one of the main centers of royalist support, but King Theodore and most of his generals were not there. The king presently resided with the bulk of his armory in Corti, deep in the interior of the island. Forging a way towards Corti over the mountains between the Castagniccia and the valley of the upper Golo was impractical for such a large force, particularly given local resistance. The only feasible route from the east was the course of the Golo itself, and such an offensive could not be sustained while simultaneously attempting to pacify the Castagniccia; Boissieux did not believe he had the numbers. Even concentrating all his forces on the Golo route might prove difficult given that the terrain prevented him from effectively using his artillery. As Boissieux had been informed of his country's attempts to organize reinforcements, Boissieux decided to hold his position and await this support rather than committing his forces to a counter-guerrilla operation in the Castagniccia which would undoubtedly tie down thousands of men.

    Despite continued resistance from Genoa, by early November the French had gathered around two thousand men at Antibes with the intention of shipping them to Corsica, justified to the Genoese Senate as reinforcements to existing battalions which had been depleted over the past year. Deployment, however, was delayed not only by diplomatic wrangling with the Genoese but by the Corsican weather, which had begun to turn foul. Around half the force was able to land at San Fiorenzo on the 6th, but several ships were delayed or damaged by weather, and it appears that not all forces were in Corsica or prepared for battle by the time of Boissieux's advance.

    With these reinforcements, Boissieux's corps amounted to at least 4,500 soldiers, of which two battalions (nominally 1,100, but undoubtedly much less than this) would remain in Castagniccia under Villemur's command. Another separate body of troops, estimated at 1,200 men, were under the command of Brigadier Montmorency in Pietralba. The force that Boissieux would lead personally was thus at least 3,500 strong, larger than any army the rebels had ever fielded even at their territorial height. It was true that the French were without their artillery and severely constrained in their use of cavalry owing to the terrain, but this must have been small comfort to the royalists who stood in their path.

    As Boissieux prepared for his decisive attack, France managed to score a remarkable own goal on the diplomatic front. Campredon's successor as French minister to Genoa, after a few months of the local consul serving in an interim fashion, was Francois Chaillou de Jonville, who had taken his position in June. In early November, Jonville received a proposal from Versailles which he was instructed to float in an informal fashion among some of the leading Genoese senators. Although not particularly pleased with Boissieux of late, the French government had heeded his long-standing opinion (echoed by Campredon) that the greatest impediment to victory in Corsica was Genoese policy. After all, had not the rebels warmly welcomed the French and turned against them only when it became clear that they brought only a resumption of Genoese rule? The proposal which Jonville received thus suggested nothing less than a complete transfer of administrative and military authority over Corsica from the Genoese Republic to France. France would take all responsibility for justice and tax collection, and all Genoese forces would leave the island. After a set period of years, during which the island would become completely pacified, France would return Corsica to full Genoese rule.

    From the French perspective this proposal was win-win. The absence of the Genoese from Corsica would take the wind out of the sails of the rebellion, bringing the war to a speedy conclusion. The bilateral agreement would trump the Fontainebleau accord, thus allowing France to guarantee the exclusion of both Austrian troops and British influence. The French also believed it was good for the Genoese: While Genoa would still be required to pay for the upkeep of French troops, this would be at least partially defrayed by Corsican tax revenue (collected directly by the French), the end of the rebellion would allow the French to maintain a lighter (and thus cheaper) footprint, and the Genoese would also be saved the expense of maintaining their own forces on the island.

    For all its apparent virtues, the “Jonville Proposal” went over like a lead balloon in Genoa. The commissioners which Jonville shared the plan with found it too toxic to even discuss, instead telling Jonville that it was outside their jurisdiction or that more clarification was needed. The proposal seemed almost perfectly tailored to confirm the Senate’s fears of a French takeover: Already France had occupied much of the island, demanded payment for ever more troops, and interfered with Genoese governance; now they demanded full administrative control and the expulsion of Genoese troops from the Republic’s own territory, leaving Genoa with a mere nominal sovereignty to be redeemed at some later date—if the French deigned to allow it. At length the plan was submitted to the Grand Council, which reviewed it in secret. Subsequently, the French government was politely informed by the Genoese ambassador, Agostino Lomellini, that the council could not come to an agreement on the matter, which may have been a "diplomatic" way of telling Paris that it was utterly intolerable. The plan was very purposefully never presented to the Senate at large. Nevertheless, the Jonville Proposal hardened the attitudes of key Genoese decision-makers towards France and caused them to look more eagerly at the prospect of imperial assistance.[B]


    Situation in Corsica in early November 1739
    Green: Royalist controlled
    Red: Genoese controlled
    Blue: French or joint Franco-Genoese occupation
    White: Unknown, neutral, or uninhabited

    Footnotes
    [1] The British were hardly immune to conspiracy theorizing on the subject. At the same time that Paris was imagining a Vienna-Florence-London axis moving against them in Corsica, English papers were rife with rumors that Boissieux had given an ultimatum to Genoa demanding the cession of Corsica to France. How seriously the government took such tales is unclear, although Genoese representatives in London were warned again that the British government would not tolerate the sale or transferal of Corsica to France.

    Timeline Notes
    [A] The "War of Jenkins' Ear," which ITTL begins just as IOTL. The British purposefully tried to avoid drawing France into this conflict, which suggests to me that they would be even less likely to overtly meddle in Corsica after October 1739 than in the years leading up to it. Giving the emperor a few diplomatic nudges, however, does not seem unreasonable, and IOTL they do seem to have expressed their concerns about French domination of Corsica to the Austrians despite the ongoing war with Spain.
    [B] A real proposal which was really made. It might have worked, too, although with the outbreak of the WoAS IOTL it's unclear if France would have been able or willing to keep up its end of the deal and maintain a presence on the island throughout the war, particularly once the island was surrounded by the British Navy.
     
    Last edited:
    High Water
  • High Water
    Cruel mother Nature, in those fearful climates,
    Produces, instead of gold, iron and soldiers.

    - Rhadamistus and Zenobia​


    Although the reinforcements had strengthened the position of Lieutenant-General Marquis de Boissieux considerably, waiting for them had not come without cost. October and November are, on average, the wettest months of the year in Corsica. By mid-November the narrow dirt tracks which passed for roads in mountainous Corsica were streams of mud. Aside from adding to the misery of the French soldiers, it further slowed both the progress of the men and the supply trains necessary to keep thousands of soldiers fed and supplied in the mountains.

    Even more critical to Boissieux's campaign was the rain's effect on the Golo River. The Golo nearly dries up in the summer, with the levels at Volpajola in Caotera falling from a spring height of around 25 m³/s (cubic meters per second) in April to less than 3 m³/s in August. Beginning in October, however, the flow begins to rise rapidly, and rebounds to around 16 m³/s in November. Because of its geography, the Golo is also very volatile, and has abnormally high flood discharge for a river of its size; its maximum instantaneous flood rates approach those of the Marne river in France despite having a basin 14 times smaller. Naturally no detailed flow measurements were made in 1739, but the winter was noted as both colder and wetter than average.[A] As a result, while fording the river might have been practicable at certain points during the summer, it was now quite impossible. This made a handful of stone bridges into critical strategic points without which the advance could not be sustained. The nearest of these to the French positions in Caotera was a Genoese-built bridge at the village of Castello di Rostino known to locals as the "new bridge," or Ponte Novu.


    lIB0WXk.png

    Ponte Novu [B]

    Castelli di Rostino was well known to Adjutant-General Edward Sarsfield, Viscount Kilmallock. Following the French conquest of Lento in May, the royalists had expected to be immediately attacked by this route and Kilmallock, better known to the revolutionaries as "Don Chimallu," had taken most of the regulars to defend it. When the blow did not come, the viscount took charge of organizing the rebels' defenses. At the time, the royalist "army" in the interior had been in disarray. With its manpower sapped by the harvest season and its commanders despondent, there was more interest in planning escape than defense. Although well supplied with arms, it was uncertain whether the royalists would have the men to wield them when the hammer finally fell.

    Kilmallock kept a cooler head, but his regulars alone could not stem the tide of the French advance. In September, realizing that Kilmallock's position was vital but grossly undermanned, Captain-General Marquis Simone Fabiani had offered him as much help as he could. With local manpower organized by Colonel Paolo Francesco Giannoni, the commander of Rostino, Fabiani and Kilmallock organized the transfer of two 12-pdr guns to Castello di Rostino and began stockpiling ammunition. Manpower remained an issue, but Kilmallock did his best to drill Giannoni's militiamen and any other volunteers who could be gathered.

    Villemur's invasion of the Castagniccia changed matters entirely. Although Ceccaldi's forces had suffered serious losses, the French conquest and the harsh policy of Villemur had turned thousands of Corsicans into refugees. Orezza could not hold them all, and many came over the pass of Stoppia Nova, bringing them to Morosaglia. Although they included many women, children, and elderly people, there were also plenty of military-age men among the refugees who feared being imprisoned or executed by the vengeful French or Genoese and were easily recruited into Fabiani's ranks with the promise of food, money, weapons, and vengeance. In early November they were joined by Colonel Carlo Felice Giuseppe and his mountaineers, who had formerly been raiding with Rauschenburg.

    The royalist plan involved splitting their force into two divisions. The first, under Theodore personally but with Kilmallock as his executive officer, would hold the bridge. This force would include all the king's regulars as it was vital that they hold their ground. The second, under Brigadier Count Gio Giacomo Ambrosi di Castinetta, would be on the other side of the river on the slopes of Mount Tasso, in the environs of Canavaggia, and would consist entirely of militia. If the French were repulsed from the bridge, Castinetta would attack them in the rear and complete the rout; if Theodore was pushed back from Castello di Rostino, Fabiani could harass the French and attempt to delay them while the king made good his retreat.

    Boissieux's advance up the Golo began on November 17th. Owing to the weather, the horrific quality of the roads, and frequent small-scale skirmishing ahead of the column, progress was slow; the French covered less than four miles per day. On the morning of the 20th, a preliminary engagement was fought between Giuseppe and the French vanguard at the confluence of the Golo and the Canavaggia tributary, a narrow choke point in the valley less than two miles from Ponte Novu. After about an hour of combat, the militia gave way to an attack of the French infantry and hussars and fled. Upon reaching Ponte Novu early in the afternoon, the leader of the vanguard, Brigadier Louis Georges Erasme, Marquis de Contades, decided to drive off the opposition with a swift attack just as he had at the Canavaggia fork. This time, however, the Corsicans did not yield so easily. The defending force, was much larger and better prepared than Contades had anticipated, and his battalion was driven back with heavy losses.

    Arriving at the fore, General Boissieux called back Contades and surveyed the situation. Not being a fool, Boissieux could immediately see the strength of the rebels' fortified position. Nevertheless, there was not much else for it but to fight. The alternative was to retreat all the way back down the Golo, which would severely harm the morale of his men (to say nothing of his career). With winter near at hand, another campaign might have to be delayed until spring. As cavalry was of little use to him here, Boissieux ordered Baron Georges de Rattsky to send his hussars up and down the river to see if another crossing could be found. Meanwhile, the infantry was formed up on the banks to begin an assault.

    The French massively outnumbered their enemies. Theodore's force on the southern bank, around 1,500 strong, faced around 4,000 French soldiers. Terrain, position, and preparation, however, were potent equalizers. The bridge itself was only wide enough for four men to walk abreast even when shoulder to shoulder, but it was also under a hundred yards long, meaning that soldiers on one bank would be within easy musket-shot of those on the opposite bank. The ability of the French to do array their troops in that manner, however, was severely limited upstream of the bridge, where the mountainside fell rather steeply into the gorge. Furthermore, with ample time to prepare the Corsicans had thrown up breastworks of earth and logs on their side of the river, giving them an advantage in such a firefight. Lastly, realizing that he had almost no trained gunners, Kilmallock had positioned his two 12-pounders only 200 yards from the opposite bank. While this exposed the gunners to enemy musketry, it also made it difficult for them to miss their targets, especially since Kilmallock had instructed them to fire ersatz canister shot made from bags of musket-balls. The result was that despite their numbers, the French could not bring them all to bear against the enemy, which was firmly entrenched in a well-fortified position.

    Even as French forces were still forming up on the opposite side of the river, they were completely exposed to the fire of Corsican musketry, and as the French battalions lined up on the banks to cover the assaulting companies with volleys they were cut down in droves by gunfire and "canister" fired at point-blank range. The initial assault on the bridge was led by the French grenadiers, who despite horrifying casualties managed to press across the bridge and engage in hand-to-hand combat with the Corsican Guard. It was an astounding testament to French bravery, but it could not be sustained. The bridge soon became congested with corpses, wounded men, and those attempting to rush forward towards the bridgehead. Some of the French soldiers on the bridge, who found themselves standing in a deadly crossfire, took a knee so as to use the stone parapets as cover. This offered some protection, but it led only to further congestion. With their support slowed to a trickle, the assault of the grenadiers fell back against overwhelming Corsican numbers. Meanwhile, the battalions behind them on the banks continued to be raked by fire.

    As the battle raged on the river's banks, the valley became choked with white smoke. From their observation point near Canavaggia to the north, Castinetta and his men could not get a clear picture of how the battle was progressing. Castinetta feared the worst, and believing that the king's men were in retreat, led an attack to tie up the French as had been agreed ahead of time. With around 600 men, Castinetta advanced down the macchia-covered valleys and began firing into the rear of the French position near the bridge. Brigadier Contades hastily tried to reposition his troops, but in the pall of smoke and din of gunfire some men thought they were withdrawing rather than repositioning. In the confusion, much of the French army near the bridge began retreating eastwards and directly into the rear battalions advancing westwards. Meanwhile, the companies of grenadiers and other soldiers fighting for the Corsican bridgehead found themselves abruptly unsupported, and many surrendered.

    It seems to have been around the time of Castinetta's attack that the best-known quip of the battle was uttered. According to legend, a light rain had just begun when the Corsicans unexpectedly attacked from the mountains. General Boissieux turned his horse about to address some of his officers when he was struck in the back with a musket-ball, and exclaimed "Au diable ce temps!" ("To hell with this weather!") In truth he was not badly hurt; the wound was shallow, perhaps a ricochet. Subsequently, however, the British press caught hold of it, leading to (chiefly Anglophone) jibes about the "peculiar weather" of Corsica and the briefly fashionable use of "Corsican rain" as an idiom for heavy musket-fire.

    In parallel to Castinetta's attack, Colonel Giuseppe had advanced down the Canavaggia valley further east in an attempt to fall upon the French rearguard. Unluckily, Rattsky's hussars had only just returned from scouting downriver. There was a fierce battle near the site of the day's first engagement in which the French successfully drove off the Niolesi and prevented Giuseppe from cutting off the French army.

    Boissieux, realizing that the front of his force was in the midst of an unauthorized retreat, managed despite his injury to rally the army and prevent the situation from becoming a rout. There was, however, little cause for optimism. The French had suffered severe casualties, it remained unclear how many Corsicans were in the mountains to the north, and the hour was growing late. Informed by Contades that the attack across the bridge had failed, the wounded Boissieux replied "Alors, c'est la fin," a remark that seemed equally applicable to the battle and his career. The action of the rearguard and Count Rattsky's hussars at the Canavaggia fork had at least preserved the avenue of retreat, and under Boissieux's orders the French army withdrew down the valley.

    Castinetta made a halfhearted pursuit of the French and came under some criticism for its afterwards, but the French were still much more numerous than his own brigade, particularly after Giuseppe's detachment had been mauled at the fork. That night, forced to encamp in the valley, the French were further harassed by local militiamen of Rostino and Caotera. From his bed, Boissieux discussed the possibility of another attempt with his lieutenants, but after an excursion by the hussars early that morning revealed the Corsicans still held the bridge, Boissieux threw in the towel. By the 23rd, the army had largely returned to its original positions in the vicinity of Borgo and Vescovato, and was ordered to take up winter quarters.

    Arguably the last hope of the November campaign lay with Comte de Montmorency, then at Pietralba with around 1,200 men, who could in theory have attacked southwards and cut Theodore's forces off from Corti as they were engaged at Ponte Novo. In this age before modern communications, however, Montmorency could not be sure of the progress of Boissieux's division on the other side of the mountains, and in any case he was preoccupied with the band of guerrillas under General Rauschenburg who were active to his west at Moltifao. He did not seriously probe rebel defenses to the south until the 22nd, and even then advanced only to the Navaccia River, three miles from the Golo, before halting in the face of resistance from militia under Rauschenburg and Fabiani.

    French losses were appalling. An apothecary recorded 369 dead and 520 wounded, while the Corsicans took about 60 prisoners. All told, nearly a quarter of the division became casualties. Corsican losses, although not recorded as precisely, were claimed (by the Corsicans) to be 100 dead and 220 wounded. Some of the Corsican casualties were alleged to have been from friendly fire caused by gunfire and artillery on the south bank hitting Castinetta's men on the slope above the opposite bank.

    Neither side's command staff was unscathed. Boissieux, of course, was wounded, albeit not seriously. The most senior French officer to die was Lieutenant-Colonel du Terme du Saux, who was killed on the bridge. Du Saux's regimental commander, the Marquis de Crussol, was very seriously wounded and had to be carried from the field. Seven other French field officers were hit, three of them fatally. On the Corsican side, the highest-ranking officer to die was Lieutenant-Colonel Giovan Luca Poggi, the most senior Corsican officer in the Guard, who was shot and killed at the bridgehead. A hero of San Fiorenzo and the Balagna and one of the royalists' best officers, he was sorely missed. Colonel Giuseppe was seriously wounded in the battle at the Canavaggia fork and was unable to withdraw; he evaded capture only because two of his men dragged him into a bush, where he quietly waited while the French withdrew along the road less than a hundred yards away. Captain Clemente Paoli, with the Rostino militia, had his face split open by a grenadier's saber. He received a wicked scar and lost his sight in one eye, but otherwise recovered, and was given a hereditary knighthood by Theodore after the battle.


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    A reenactment parade in Castello di Rostino in 1989 celebrating the 250th anniversary of the battle.

    The importance of the battle to Corsica's struggle cannot be overstated. It seems unlikely that the royalists could have recuperated from a defeat there in time to save Corti and the arsenal. For the first time, the Corsicans had faced the French army and won—not merely Villemur's 1,500-strong detached brigade at San Pellegrino, but four thousand men under Boissieux's personal command, representing more than half of all French forces then on the island. Although the rebels were unable to greatly expand their territory in the wake of the French defeat, the victory meant that the rebel-held interior would be safe at least until the coming spring.[C]

    The battle's importance for Theodore's career was just as great. His power and relevance which had crested with the arrival of the syndicate armada had been steadily slipping away since then. The Corsicans were clearly losing faith in his ability to produce miracles, and only the personal loyalty of his generals had kept his "government," and indeed the rebellion itself, from falling apart entirely. Theodore's actual role at Ponte Novo had not been great—it was Kilmallock who had prepared the site and was arguably the engineer of Corsican victory on that day. Nevertheless, Theodore had been present, visible, and scornful of danger, disdaining his bodyguards' pleas that he dismount from his horse so as to not be so great a target (as he seems to have been virtually the only man on the Corsican side who was mounted during the battle). When the enemy was vanquished, it was the king on horseback whom the soldiers and militiamen rushed to in jubilation, waving their caps, shooting off firearms, and shouting "Evvivu u rè!" The magician had astounded his audience once again, and had led the rebellion to victory over the greatest military power in Europe. The war, however, was far from over.

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    Timeline Notes
    [A] The European winter of 1739-40, referred to by some contemporaries as the "Great Frost," subjected much of Europe to unusually cold and wet weather (with an emphasis on the cold). The effects of this weather are perhaps best known in Ireland, where the cold winter (followed by a spring drought) resulted in the 1740 "Year of Slaughter" in which nearly 40% of the population died. Although this climactic event was deadlier and more intense in the north of Europe than in the Mediterranean, what climate data I have managed to find indicates that even in North-Central Italy, the winter of 1739 was much colder and marginally wetter than average.
    [B] I can't give you a modern picture of the intact bridge because the Germans demolished it during WW2.
    [C] Although my use of Ponte Novu is a bit unoriginal, there's really not a better place for this confrontation. The choice to defend this bridge in 1769 was not made at random. One of the best routes into the interior is the Golo valley, and Ponte Novu is obviously the key defensive point in that valley. Below it, the valley is narrow but there aren't any key bridges; above it, the valley broadens, making it less defensively valuable. So, that being the case, why did Theodore win where Paoli lost? After all, Theodore's army ITTL is much smaller than Paoli's army in early 1769. Then again, the French are a lot fewer too—the French attack on Ponte Novu in 1769 was made with some 15,000 to 22,000 men, whereas Boissieux has only four thousand. Boissieux, attacking in November, also has much less favorable weather than de Vaux, who attacked in May. The best reason, however, has to do with the fact that although he has a well-deserved reputation as a statesman, Paoli does not appear to have been a particularly good general. How exactly Ponte Novu was lost is disputed, but it seems to have been because the Corsicans were positioned on the north bank of the river or attacked across it. Predictably defeated, they then fled back over the bridge, where they were shot to pieces by their own foreign mercenaries (who were presumably either trying to halt the retreat or save themselves from a Corsican stampede). Faced with this disaster, the remaining forces on the south bank fled. Props to whoever wrote the English Wikipedia page on the battle, which contains the understatement of the century: "Tactically the battle was something less than a model." Theodore and Kilmallock don't have to be great generals to do better than this, they just have to not attack over a bridge they are supposed to be defending. I think it's at least possible that the Corsicans could have won Ponte Novu IOTL were it not for their catastrophically poor tactics (and possibly issues with their mercenaries), although it is very unlikely that this would have changed the overall outcome of the war.
     
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    The King in the Mountains
  • The King in the Mountains

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    Corti in winter

    The Battle of Ponte Novu, at a stroke, made casualties of roughly 1 in 8 French soldiers on Corsica. The French intervention force remained comparatively strong, even unassailable in the coastal territories which it occupied (where it was also supported by Genoese forces), but such a loss diminished the ability of the French to occupy restive provinces, further stretching an already overextended army. Just as meaningful was the damage to French morale. No army, however disciplined, would have been unaffected by witnessing such tremendous bloodletting and the decimation of their comrades at the hands of mere "bandits" - and in exchange for nothing. Nor was this defeat followed by a respite in many parts of French-occupied Corsica, for winter did not stop the attacks of Corsican irregulars and maquisards. Having to constantly watch for such attacks further frayed the nerves of the men. Denied an opportunity to respond militarily, they and their officers frequently lashed out at the occupied population, which only provided the rebels with more recruits and sympathizers.

    The mood was considerably lighter in Corti, but the royalists had bought themselves only time, not a permanent settlement. King Theodore was quite aware that the victory which had been gained at Ponte Novu had only been gained thanks to overwhelmingly favorable circumstances for his defending force. A large-scale offensive campaign against the French was by no means guaranteed to succeed, and might well backfire, squandering manpower, morale, and the "mystique of victory" which once more surrounded the king. Although there was pressure from some of the king's generals to "liberate" the Castagniccia, Theodore was for these reasons reluctant to agree.

    Two days after the Battle of Ponte Novu, the Zicavesi commander Carlo Lusinchi had arrived at Morosaglia with 150 men. Their presence was something of a novelty, as militia forces in the Dila had rarely rendered assistance in the north, but the Zicavesi were reputed to be fanatical royalists and had decided to come to the defense of the king. Much to Lusinchi's chagrin, they arrived too late to participate in the battle, but as the most senior commander from the Dila who was actually present he was invited to attend the war council. Lusinchi described the inroads which the Genoese had made in the south, mainly by terror and coercion rather than military skill. Unlike the southwest, where Marquis Luca d'Ornano was the dominant figure, the eastern Dila had no effective overall command. The highest-ranking commander there was Count Michele Durazzo, who was preoccupied with maintaining control over Sartena, and whose authority outside La Rocca was slim. Without any "royal army" present to oppose them, the Genoese had been able to gradually reduce Corsican communities piecemeal which were already demoralized by reports of rebel defeats in the north.

    The winter strategy of the royalists, hammered out by Theodore, Captain-General Marquis Simone Fabiani, and the minister of war Major General Count Marc-Antonio Giappiconi, was clearly informed by Lusinchi's information. By now all the Corsican generals had learned a healthy respect for the French, but they regarded the Genoese with contempt. With the only French forces in the Dila bottled up at Ajaccio, the Genoese would have no support from their more competent allies. While Theodore himself would remain in at Corti, several Guard companies would be sent back with Lusinchi along with munitions and money to raise the Talavesi milita and launch attacks against the Genoese in Fiumorbo and the countryside of Porto Vecchio. These forces were placed under the overall authority of the recently promoted Lieutenant-General Francesco Peretti, a native of Zicavo and commander of the pieve. Concerning matters in the western Dila, Theodore wrote to his "nephew" Matthias von Drost instructing him to lend all possible aid to Durazzo at Sartene. Meanwhile, in the north irregular operations would be continued by Johann Friedrich von Neuhoff zu Rauschenburg in the Balagna and Count Andrea Ceccaldi in the Castagniccia, while Marquis Fabiani would remain in overall command of the regular and militia forces in the interior.


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    The "Royal Palace," Theodore's residence in Corti
    In wintry Corti, Theodore and his ministers were finally able to establish something resembling a royal government. The king had taken up residence in the commandant's house, the former residence of the Genoese administrator, where he lived with Count Sebastiano Costa, Grand Chancellor and Keeper of the Royal Seal, and the royal household: His private secretary Denis Richard; his personal valet Antonio Pino; his Elban chaplain Antonio Candeotto; his Moorish footmen Mahomet and Montecristo; his Provençal cook, Joseph Paris; his Dutch equerry Giraud Keverberg, the son of a dragoon captain; his aides-de-camp, Saviero Carlieri of Naples and Cristoforo Buongiorno of Livorno; and a handful of other servants. Although it must have gotten a bit crowded and certainly paled in comparison to the Governor's Palace at Bastia, the three-story commandant's house was sufficient for his needs and far better than squatting in convents as had been his practice for months.[1]

    Just around the corner was the house of the Secretary of State, Count Gianpietro Gaffori.[A] Although the king's residence was always busy, it was Gaffori's house which was the real nerve center of the royalist government. Gaffori's family had long been among the most prominent families of Corti, and his father had been podesta of the city. A physician by trade, trained in the medical college at Genoa, Gaffori had been elected a representative of Corti to the national consulta in 1734. He was intelligent, bold, and multi-talented; Doctor Gaffori was seemingly just as comfortable balancing accounts, making a speech, and leading men in battle as he was with operating on a patient. Theodore had made him a secretary of state, and later he acquired the title of "President of the Currency" for managing Theodore's coin-minting project. Since the rebel armory had been moved to Corti's citadel, Gaffori had also become the de facto quartermaster-general of the kingdom, overseeing all deliveries of weapons, munitions, clothing, and money to the king's loyalists throughout the island. His position was one of tremendous power, and although the elderly Marquis Luigi Giafferi retained the title of Chief Minister, he was clearly eclipsed by Gaffori in terms of actual influence.[B]


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    Gaffori's house, with a bronze statue of Gianpietro Gaffori in front

    Almost every day, Gaffori put on his coat and hat and walked 150 feet from his front door to the king's residence, where he, Theodore, Costa, Giappiconi, and (frequently) Giafferi would discuss the day's business over a bottle of wine. (The king's tea and chocolate had long since run out.) Costa marveled at how untroubled the king seemed to be about the war. He took an interest in military affairs and questioned Gaffori and Giappiconi as to troops, maneuvers, and supplies, but was quite content to let them handle everyday affairs. Theodore expressed complete confidence in the outcome of the struggle, and insisted that the French could not go on much longer. Britain, he pointed out, had recently declared war upon Spain, and it was only a matter of time before the King of Spain would be joined by his fellow Bourbons in France. An Anglo-French war, he explained, would bring about the end of the French intervention; either the French would withdraw in order to deal with weightier matters, or the British would intervene in Corsica to prevent this key position in the Mediterranean from being used against them. All bowed to the king's superior knowledge of European high politics. Was he not a German prince, an English lord, a French peer, a Spanish grandee, etc., etc., who had been presented in half a dozen continental courts?

    The king frequently wished to discuss other matters of state. He proposed censuses and surveys to properly quantify his kingdom and its productive capacities, inquired as to damage caused by the French and Genoese which would have to be repaired, requested reports on the Castagniccian refugees encamped in the interior and what was being done to keep them fed, and floated various ideas for the enforcement of justice and economic development. He lamented the dearth of writing material and discussed a plan with Costa to establish paper-making mills and steal the market from the Genoese, who were major producers of printing paper. His proposals were sometimes sensible, sometimes bizarre, and nearly always premature, given that much of the country and most of its population was not under his control. Some are inclined to see Theodore's preoccupation with such matters as evidence of a tenuous hold on reality, the musings of an absent-minded fellow who ruled as much in his imagination as in fact. One must not discount, however, that Theodore was also a skilled actor. The total confidence in victory which he displayed was undoubtedly for the benefit of others, and his numerous inquiries and schemes on matters of state and economics may have been an attempt to project authority and "normalcy" - war or no war, the reign of the king and the government of his ministers needed to be seen to continue unperturbed.

    The king indulged in other diversions as well. He toured the citadel and the walls with Johann-Gottlieb Reusse, a Saxon engineering student whom Theodore had hired in Amsterdam as a captain of engineers, and discussed how the defenses might be improved in the event of a siege. He attended mass at the Church of the Annunciation, which was just opposite Gaffori's house, as it was important to at least make a show of traditional piety. On occasion he left the city, typically accompanied by a detail of his Leibgarde, a few of his household staff (usually Keverberg, Carlieri and/or Buongiorno, and one or both of his Moorish footmen) and whichever ministers or officers whose company he had requested. On a few occasions he went shooting, presumably for wild boar, but usually his rides were merely to see the sights. Despite living in the country for three years, the king was continually impressed by the natural beauty of "his" island, and his aides' concerns for his safety or his health could not keep him cooped up in Corti for long.

    On three occasions the king made the journey to Ponte Leccia, eleven miles north of Corti, where Fabiani had established the winter quarters of the royal army. Conditions there were rather spartan. By all accounts the food was sufficient, if lean; the men ate chestnut bread, drank soup made from wild herbs, and foraged for taravellu (asphodel).[2] On good days, they roasted wild boar. The pay was meager, although probably better than many of the soldiers had earned as shepherds, field workers, and subsistence farmers. The greatest problem was the cold. The syndicate had sold the rebels a large amount of tent canvas, but canvas tents left something to be desired in terms of keeping the men warm in the highland winter. These were gradually supplemented by huts of flat stones and pinewood. There was certainly illness and desertion, but most of the army—estimated at around 1,200 to 1,500 strong, possibly as low as a thousand at its nadir—seems to have kept together.

    Fabiani utilized Viscount Kilmallock as his chief instructor, for training was both badly needed and the only thing that could keep men occupied when they were not chopping wood or foraging for herbs and game. Barking at them in his English-accented Spanish which was only barely comprehensible by the rural Corsicans, Don Chimallu led the Corsicans in musket drills and formation marching. On the occasions of Theodore's visits, Fabiani held a military review for the king's satisfaction. A half-trained gaggle of Corsicans shuffling through the snow in their civilian clothes could not have been terribly impressive to Theodore, who had served in three different continental armies, but he made a good show of watching serenely from horseback. Costa, at least, believed the men enjoyed it, but Costa never marched a step in his life, and certainly did not sleep in a tent.


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    The plateau of Coscione

    While Fabiani's army shivered and drilled, royalist forces elsewhere continued to be active. In early December, Peretti and the Lusinchi brothers made an audacious crossing of the snow-covered and treeless alpine plateau of Coscione, and then descended into the Travo valley to surprise a 200-strong Genoese garrison at Ventiseri. The Genoese had completely written off the prospect of a rebel attack over the mountains in winter and were caught with their metaphorical trousers around their ankles. Fiumorbo was completely abandoned by the Genoese thereafter save for the coastal village of Solenzara, and other Genoese forces further south pulled back to warmer and more defensible positions. Further south, Drost and Durazzo met with initial success campaigning in the Taravo valley, but were defeated at Olmeto by a Genoese force. Unlike Grimaldi's filogenovesi militia of Ajaccio, the Genoese at Propriano had an entire regular battalion. Drost blamed the defeat on the failure of the local militia commander, Anton Galloni d'Istria, to support them, which different sources claim was either a case of treachery or miscommunication. In the north, Rauschenburg continued to be a thorn in the side of the French and Genoese, although no serious engagements were fought there. The French lost ground in the Castagniccia, as they did on most fronts, although this had more to do with the army's withdrawal into winter quarters than any rebel activity.


    Footnotes

    [1] The religious diversity of Corsica seems to have been fully contained in the royal household. Richard and Keverberg were certainly Protestants, and Mahomet and Montecristo were, as far as we know, practicing Muslims. That said, however, the religious affiliations of all the men in the Foreign Regiment are not known, and various "Turks" freed from Genoese galleys were occasionally found in Theodore's service either as soldiers or servants. Many, however, were smuggled out of Corsica with Theodore's support, as the king took an active interest in the emancipation and repatriation of slaves. Early on in Theodore's reign, two Jews also accompanied him as representatives of his Jewish backers in Tunis, but they seem to have left after Theodore's voyage to Amsterdam. So too, probably, did Salla, another Muslim who had arrived on the island with Theodore as a representative from Morocco and/or Tunis.
    [2] Asphodel, specifically Asphodelus ramosus (or "branched asphodel"), known by many names on Corsica including taravellu and fiori di morti ("flower of the dead"), is a hardy perennial herb with white flowers which blooms in the winter in the Mediterranean. Although not economically exploited in modern times, its starchy bulb was part of Corsican cuisine until superseded by the potato. It was regarded as a famine food, particularly after the potato's introduction, and sometimes called the "bread of the poor." Asphodel continued to see use as a ritual and medicinal herb, however, and in fact contains colchicine, an effective medicine for gout which is still used today. In ancient Greek mythology, asphodel was associated with the afterlife; in The Odyssey, Homer writes that Achilles' ghost "marched away with long steps over the meadow of asphodel."

    Timeline Notes

    [A] The Genoese civic building which serves as Theodore's Corti HQ ITTL was Paoli's HQ IOTL, although it later became the short-lived university of the Corsican Republic. Today, it is known as the National Palace ("Palazzu Naziunale"), and is the administrative building for the University of Corsica Pasquale Paoli, a public university. Gaffori's house is, as IOTL, Gaffori's house. You may notice in the picture that it's riddled with bullet-holes, left over from a Genoese siege.
    [B] Gaffori was an extremely capable leader of the rebellion who was a member of the ruling triumvirate starting in 1745. He became progressively more powerful until he was elected as sole general of the nation in 1753. Later that year, however, he was assassinated by a group of men thought to be in Genoese pay, including his own brother. Gaffori's death precipitated a crisis of leadership in the national movement; Clemente Paoli, a lieutenant of Gaffori's, attempted to position his own family as the new leaders of the rebellion and recalled his brother Pasquale from abroad. A civil war between the Paoli and Matra clans followed, which Paoli ultimately won, thus establishing the Corsican Republic. Gaffori was essentially the "Paoli before Paoli," but he was a very different sort of man: Gaffori, unlike Paoli, was no avatar of the Enlightenment who could make Rousseau swoon, but he was a significantly better commander than Pasquale Paoli ever was. One wonders how different the rebellion would have been if he had evaded assassination. ITTL, Gaffori is going to be a very important man; his considerable skills and important strategic position as the effective master of Corti make him indispensable to the regime. He did not, however, have a good relationship IOTL with d'Ornano, whose turn away from the rebel cause seems to coincide with the Gaffori-dominated triumvirate coming to power.
     
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    Theodore's New Model Army
  • Theodore's New Model Army
    Excerpts from Merganser Publishing's "Rebellion!" Series #24: The Corsican Revolution


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    Illustration of a Corsican regular in the 1740s


    Anatomy of a Failure

    By the end of the 1739 campaign it was abundantly clear that King Theodore's original scheme for the Corsican military was a failure. The king's edict on militia service, issued not long after his coronation, had mandated that the militia of the entire nation would serve in terzi ("thirds"), four-month terms such that a third of the rebels' manpower would be active at any one time. This had proved to be impossible to enforce and was widely ignored. There existed no system of administration by which rolls of eligible militiamen could be created and maintained, and the national government possessed no power to compel pieves and villages to cough up the required men.

    More than administrative failure, however, the system failed because it could not overcome the localism and self-interest of the Corsicans. Most Corsican militiamen, while willing and even eager to fight the hated Genoese, had no motivation to stray far from their village. The educated and urbane leaders of the rebellion like Costa, Giafferi, and Gaffori spoke of a Corsican "nation," but the sort of society which most Corsicans lived in was insular, centered on the village and the clan, and dominated by strictly local concerns. Hatred of their colonial taskmasters united them more than a real sense of national unity. The captains, colonels, and generals which Theodore had appointed were frequently no better; as local lords and caporali, they too had predominantly local concerns, and usually preferred to keep their men (who, in the case of militia captains, were often their own relations) at home rather than heeding Theodore's plaintive cries for soldiers.

    As a consequence, the rebellion had never really possessed an army that was truly "Corsican." The kingdom's battles since 1736 had been fought predominantly with forces available in the immediate vicinity. Fabiani's Balagnese campaign had been mainly fought with Balagnese militia, supported by the men of a few neighboring pieves and others who could be pulled to the field by clan relationships. (Fabiani, for instance, was reinforced by militia from Orezza because his wife was from that pieve and he could count on support from his in-laws.) Ceccaldi's eastern campaign had been waged almost entirely with men of Castagniccia and the eastern plain, with some help from Gaffori, who had brought his own followers and clients from Corti. These local militias also had a tendency to disperse as soon as victory was gained or defeat was suffered. Without any prompting by their own government, the Corsicans had raised a force of thousands to attack Borgo, but as soon as this engagement was over most of the army simply went home. Only the Guardia Corsa, the sole "professional" unit of Corsican royalists, was really a national unit, and it did not even reach the strength of a single French battalion.

    Even if the system had functioned as intended, it would still have been crippled by flaws that were now quite evident. The four-month system meant that three times a year, the entire militia force would essentially disband and have to be reformed, which would be disastrous if it were to happen in the middle of a campaign. This also made the provisioning of soldiers difficult, as the Corsicans fiercely resisted disarmament and were unlikely to accept being stripped of their syndicate-provided musket and powder so it could be given to their replacement. Needless to say, such quick turnover also made quality training next to impossible.

    The military reorganization of the winter of 1739-40 had its origins in the "refugee army" of the Castagniccia: men who had fled Villemur's incursion, come over the mountains to Rostino, and agreed to fight with Theodore's regulars and the Rostino militia against the men who had turned them out of their houses and destroyed their livelihoods. They had fought decently at the Battle of Ponte Novu, but Fabiani feared that as soon as the battle was over they would once again disband, leaving the interior open to another attack (perhaps from Brigadier Montmorency, who came only a few miles from the Golo days after the battle). He had convinced Theodore and Gaffori to put these men on the government's payroll to induce them to remain over the winter, and it was this militia force which had remained with him through the freezing nights in Ponte Leccia. At the time, this was only seen as a temporary expedient to keep Corti from being completely exposed, but as winter drew to an end Fabiani was loathe to send the men home, particularly after the months of training they had received.

    Except for the Guardia, the government was not in the habit of paying soldiers directly. The usual procedure was to give money and arms to prominent locals, appoint them as colonels or captains, and instruct them to raise and provide for a certain number of men who would be called up on a rotating basis or as needed. The localized nature of authority on Corsica virtually required such a system; without the cooperation of local elites, the revolution could not succeed. As one might expect, however, it was enormously wasteful and corrupt, as there were few checks on the ability of a militia officer to simply pocket part of all of the money, or to raise forces to protect his own pieve but refuse any requests for support elsewhere.

    The arrival of the syndicate armada and its chests full of florins had restored the king's finances, but events moved swiftly thereafter and it is difficult to trace Theodore's expenditures. Clearly the reformed Guardia Corsa was sustained and expanded with this new money, and militia officers were encouraged to come fight in the Balagna with promises of weapons and funds. During the rapid collapse of royalist positions after the fall of the Balagna, however, the king was more concerned with keeping his money from the French than figuring out how best to spend it. Through most of the 1739 summer and autumn campaign, the rebels' forces had been largely unpaid volunteers motivated to defend their own homelands, and even the Guard's pay was spotty and several months in arrears owing less to a shortage of money than to administrative and logistical confusion. General d'Ornano received funds and armaments to further his war effort in the south, but he was something of a special case, not only because of his ongoing struggle with Marshal Châtel but because his loyalty was thought to be precarious.

    Fabiani's Reform


    The winter of 1739-40 gave the royalist government a chance to pause and straighten out its affairs. Some reform was administrative; Secretary Gaffori made an attempt to regulate the government's spending. He appointed Decio Ciavaldini, a wealthy member of the national Diet whose family owned an ironworks in Alesani, as Controller-General, and assigned adjutants to regular regiments who were responsible for keeping the rolls of the unit and overseeing pay. The most substantial reforms, however, were proposed by Fabiani, and they concerned the structure of the army itself.

    Fabiani's proposal involved scrapping the four-month system entirely and cutting back on (but not eliminating) payments to militia officers. Instead, he proposed a standing army organized in the continental fashion and based on annual enlistments. These troops would be paid (albeit not much) and armed from government arsenals. The fact that the army he suggested already existed was a major selling point in his favor, as his proposed force was not merely an idea—he could point to his already-organized companies of militia and say that unless the government saw fit to adopt them, they would return to their homes and the effort spent training and providing for them over the winter would be for naught. Unsurprisingly, Theodore and his council accepted Fabiani's proposal. Two regiments of 600 men each were authorized, and Giappiconi, the Minister of War, was instructed to cooperate with Fabiani in the recruitment and establishment of this force. Fabiani, however, took the opportunity to enact a thorough reorganization, not just of the militia but of the regular troops.

    Over the course of the winter at Ponte Leccia, Fabiani and Kilmallock had made use of the regulars, both foreign and native, to train and lead the militia. Most of the Guard’s officers had at least some experience in a continental army, and even its ordinary soldiers had by now been drilling and marching under the instruction of Kilmallock and their own captains for more than a year. Likewise, while some of the foreigners were freed galley slaves or new recruits who had defected, there also many among them who had served a decent stretch in a proper army (like the Colonesi, the two dozen or so veterans of the army of Electoral Cologne, including Lieutenant-Colonel Drevitz himself). At first, the Guard was utilized as a separate demonstration unit, but soon Fabiani found it useful to integrate Guard soldiers into the militia companies as officers and NCOs in order to spread their experience through the group.

    The "new" royal army of March 1740 consisted of three regiments, two of infantry and one of guards. Battalions were of equal size (save for variations in the staff), but the guards regiment had only a single battalion while the infantry regiments had two. This represented a major decline in the nominal strength of the Guards, who saw their number of companies drop by half, but this was a product of their personnel being assigned to the new regiments as officers and trainers. All battalions, guard and regular, were standardized at 5 companies of 60 men each. The foreign regiment also had 60-man companies, but only two of these in the regiment's single battalion, plus the half-sized Leibgarde company which was now administratively merged with the foreigners.

    The new army was intended to be truly "national," although in practice it was a strictly northern army. The vast majority of its soldiers in 1740 were from the Castagniccia, with much smaller but notable contingents from Caccia, Talcini, and Niolo. The advantages offered by such a force were plain: because it was national, it could be deployed anywhere instead of being tied to one region or another, and because it was enlisted and salaried, it could be retained for as long as needed without disbanding after every battle. Although small, Fabiani believed it would work hand-in-glove with local militia forces wherever it campaigned, forming a semi-professional core around which irregulars could adhere. The cost, however, was not insignificant, and the syndicate's chests were not endless. As the spring of 1740 approached, it remained to be seen whether it would prove worthy of the considerable resources Fabiani had devoted to it.


    Guards Regiment (313 men)
    Regimental staff:
    1 colonel
    1 lieutenant-colonel
    1 major
    1 adjutant
    1 chaplain
    1 surgeon
    1 armorer
    1 drum-major
    1 standardbearer
    2 trumpeters
    2 fifers​
    5 Guards Companies, each with:
    1 captain
    1 lieutenant
    3 sergeants
    6 corporals
    48 guards
    1 drummer​

    Infantry Regiment (620 men)
    First Battalion:
    1st Battalion staff:
    1 colonel
    1 major
    1 adjutant
    1 chaplain
    1 surgeon
    1 armorer
    1 drum-major
    2 trumpeters
    2 fifers​
    5 Fusilier Companies, each with:
    1 captain
    1 lieutenant
    3 sergeants
    6 corporals
    48 fusiliers
    1 drummer​
    Second Battalion:
    2nd Battalion staff:
    1 lieutenant-colonel
    1 adjutant
    1 chaplain
    1 surgeon
    1 armorer
    2 trumpeters
    2 fifers​
    5 Fusilier Companies, same as 1st battalion​

    Foreign Regiment (158 men)
    Regimental staff:
    1 lieutenant-colonel
    1 major
    1 adjutant
    1 surgeon
    1 armorer
    1 drum-major
    2 fifers​
    2 Fusilier Companies, each with:
    1 captain
    1 lieutenant
    1 sub-lieutenant
    2 sergeants
    6 corporals
    48 fusiliers
    1 drummer​
    1 Leibgarde Company, with:
    1 captain
    1 lieutenant
    1 sub-lieutenant
    2 sergeants
    4 corporals
    16 guards
    2 trumpeters
    2 drummers
    1 kettle-drummer​

    No army in Europe adhered strictly to its organizational charts, and the Corsican royal army was certainly no exception. Still, it does seem to have been near its paper strength in March, with around 1,500-1,600 of its nominal 1,711 soldiers (including the foreign regiment and Leibgarde). Some officers were scarce; the new army called for six battalion surgeons, for instance, but at that point had only managed to find two. The opposite problem was experienced regarding chaplains, causing Theodore's secretary Denis Richard to observe, perhaps with some exaggeration, that where other armies had a chaplain for each regiment, the Corsicans insisted on one in every company. Clearly the royal army did not suffer from a dearth of blessings.

    Uniforms

    According to the published manifest, the syndicate had sent 400 uniforms of Theodore's design to Corsica. While the Corsicans certainly had wool and the means to weave it, the green coats of Theodore's uniforms proved difficult to replicate because that color was particularly difficult and expensive to produce from natural dye. These "national" uniforms were originally given to the Guardia Corsa, but with the reduction of that unit Fabiani decided to use some of them to denote senior officers in the new regiments. The rest wore civilian clothing, which was typically made from undyed wool, and in Corsica most sheep had dark fleece. The dominant color of the Corsican fighters, regular or irregular, was dark brown.

    The army had no rank insignia as such, but types of officers were differentiated as follows:

    Sub-officers (Cpl, Sgt): A black tricorne hat; regular soldiers typically wore the "Phrygian cap" of the Corsican peasant.
    Company officers (Lt, Cpt): A black tricorne hat and an officer's stick, hung from a coat button when not in hand.
    Field officers (Maj, Lt Col, Col): Full "national" uniform and officer's stick.

    All soldiers wore the green cockade of the royalist cause, which was hardly unique to the regular troops.


    FqiFuk4.png

    A Corsican soldier sounding a conch

    Musicians

    Of special note was the army's band corps. Typical practice on the continent involved drummers at the company level and fifers at the battalion level, which together would be used to coordinate the movements of infantry. Cavalry, in turn, generally used trumpets and kettle drums. The syndicate had in fact sent all of these instruments to Corsica—even a set of kettle drumsbut the Corsicans were unfamiliar with most of them. Fifes did not prove too difficult; Corsican shepherds had long used the pirula (a reed flute) and the pifana (a gemshorn). Drums, however, seem to have caught on slowly, despite Fabiani assigning regimental drum-majors to the infantry from among the foreign soldiers to instruct the company drummers in their use.

    Of particular note were the two trumpeters in every regiment. With the exception of the Leibgarde trumpeters, who used brass instruments, the army's trumpeters appear to have usually used the conch horn. The French had encountered the rebel conch-players before, at Borgo and Alesani, and described the sound as "unnerving." They assumed that this psychological effect was its sole intention, but in fact Corsican shepherds and cattle-drivers had long used conch horns for signaling, and such signals were readily adapted to military use. The Corsican royal army was, as far as this author is aware, the only European army of the period to use the conch as a military instrument.

    Selected officers as of March 1740

    Colonel, Guard Regt: Count Gio-Giacomo Ambrosi di Castinetta, of Rostino
    Lieutenant-Colonel, Guard Regt: Antonio Buttafuoco, of Vescovato
    Colonel, 1st Infantry Regt: Paolo Francesco Giannoni, of Rostino
    Lieutenant-Colonel, 1st Infantry Regt: Silvestre Colombani, of Talasani
    Colonel, 2nd Infantry Regt: Carlo Felice Giuseppe, of Pietralba
    Lieutenant-Colonel, 2nd Infantry Regt: Gio Paolo Giudicelli, of Speloncato
    Lieutenant-Colonel, Foreign Regt: Karl Christian Drevitz, of Cologne
    Captain, Leibgarde: Johann-Gottfried Vater, of Saxony
     
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    Extra: Notes on the Moor's Head Flag
  • Come to think of it, now might be a good time to give you a little detail on the whole flag business.

    The common story you will read online about the Corsican flag goes something like this: The Moor's Head was a medieval symbol of Corsica which was adopted by Pasquale Paoli to be the flag of the nation. Traditionally, the Moor was blindfolded, but Paoli decided to "lift the blindfold" and make it a headband instead, symbolizing the liberation of the Corsicans and the opening of their eyes to the light of freedom.

    This is a very nice story, but it's mostly wrong. Theodore was flying a flag with the Moor's Head when Paoli was still a pre-teen, so while it's possible that Paoli popularized the image he definitely didn't bring it out of medieval obscurity on his own. It was an established symbol of the rebellion, or at least of Theodore's kingdom, since at least 1736.

    Now, about that blindfold. It's true that the Moor's Head is a medieval symbol of Corsica; it first appears in the 14th century Gelre Armorial, which coincidentally also has the first known image of the Dannebrog, the flag of Denmark. The flag of Corsica in the Gelre Armorial looks like this:

    JwnahsQ.png


    Note that the Moor's eyes are showing! Even in the earliest known image of the Moor's Head, it's not blindfolded. In fact every historical image of Corsica's arms between the Gelre Armorial and the Revolutionary era which I've managed to find does not have a blindfold, but a headband, or in some cases a "tortil" (a headband of twisted cloth).

    In 1731, the Imperial Geographer Matthäus Seutter published a map of Corsica. In the bottom left corner, he placed the arms of Genoa and Corsica, which look like this:

    r4XofiP.png


    That seems fairly obviously to be a headband to me, not a blindfold, and this was published after the start of the rebellion.

    Theodore certainly used the Moor's Head, and seems to have figured it out prior to his arrival, which would not have been difficult seeing as it was already an established symbol in European atlases (perhaps he even got it from Seutter's recent work). While I don't have real proof that Theodore was the first to use the Moor's Head in the Corsican rebellion, I have yet to come across a reference to it being associated with the rebels before 1736. If he did get it from a source in Europe, then it's hard to see how it would have been blindfolded, since the most recent European atlases definitely showed a headband, not a blindfold. At least one source I've read disagrees, claiming that Theodore's Moor was blindfolded, but I haven't seen good evidence for that, and there's plenty against it. See, for instance, this Neuhoff coat of arms on a republication of Vogt's 1735 map shortly after Theodore's reign, which is the image I based the CoA in the first post of this thread on:

    KMnxxYXl.png


    So where does all this blindfold business come from, anyway? Well, there's one possibility I've considered, and that's Sardinia. The Sardinian flag, of course, also has the Moor's Head (in fact it has four of them). The flag also appears in the Gelre Armorial, but without blindfolds or headbands. By the 17th century, however, the usage seems to have been inconsistent, and there are examples of both blindfolded and non-blindfolded Moors. The issue was only formally settled around 1720 when the Savoyard kings acquired Sardinia. By royal decree, they made the Moors blindfolded.

    Corsica had no single, functioning government during this time to tell the people what their flag was and was not. Perhaps the Corsicans, aware of Theodore's symbol but unclear on the details (Theodore's flag was not often flown), copied the blindfolded Moors on the Sardinian arms. In that case perhaps Paoli really was "opening the eyes" of the Moor if usage had changed to a blindfold by that time, although I have no evidence of that. Alternately, perhaps Paoli was simply mistaken - or the people who "reported" the story were mistaken, and simply invented a nice story that buttressed the notion of Paoli as the liberator of the nation.

    Another interesting bit of flag business is the sex of the Moor. If you look at a "modern" Corsican flag, it looks rather like a man. In the 17th and 18th centuries, however, the Moor's Head is often depicted with jewelry - specifically, an earring, a necklace of pearls, or both. Seutter's image has an earring, the republished Vogt map with Theodore's arms has a necklace and what appears to be an earring, and you can very clearly see both on the only extant flag of Paoli's Republic:

    wTNnJjR.jpg


    What do you think - man or woman?

    How the Moor came to be female, or indeed whether it actually is female (as opposed to a man with jewelry) is unclear; I've heard some theorizing that it is related to Genoa's brisk trade in Moorish slaves in the Renaissance/Early Modern period, which certainly included women, but I haven't found any hard evidence either way. In the modern era, the Moor was "masculinized," and today is usually shown without any jewelry (although I have occasionally seen a modern Corsican flag which gives the Moor an earring).

    The other 18th century change is the white background. From the Gelre Armorial through the 17th century, the Moor is more often displayed on a gold/yellow background than a white one, but from the 18th century on it's pretty much always on white. I'm not sure how exactly that change occurred.

    The canon of TTL is that Theodore's flag is white, and bears a Moor with a headband/tortil, not a blindfold, whose sex is perhaps a bit ambiguous but definitely has the earring and pearl necklace. When I made the CoA on the first post of this thread, I was a little lazy and used the "modern" Moor's head and added a necklace; in fact I ought to add the earring too, something I forgot to do at the time, and if I find a decent alternative image I might make the head into something a little less masculine.
     
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    The Thaw
  • The Thaw

    azBJZvn.png

    Another view of Corti in the winter

    As the Corsicans waited for spring, the tension in Europe was steadily building. The continent seemed to be moving inexorably towards a general conflict sparked by Britain's declaration of war on Spain in October of 1739. When King Theodore assured his ministers that war between Britain and France was imminent, he was expressing an opinion that was shared by many people across the continent including Emperor Karl VI himself. The emperor was increasingly alarmed by the power of France and the abominable state into which Austrian military and diplomatic power appeared to have slid. His hopes for the preservation of the Habsburg patrimony and the enforcement of the Pragmatic Sanction after his own death rested upon a grand anti-Bourbon alliance in which British participation was absolutely essential. Indeed, it was quite apparent that Britain's failure to join Austria's side in the last Bourbon-Habsburg war, the War of Polish Succession, had been a major factor in Austria's defeat.

    The emperor's eagerness to draw the British into a firm alliance led him to consider the warnings of their ministers regarding Corsica all the more seriously. The British certainly did not seek war with France - quite the opposite, they hoped that King Louis XV would remain uninvolved to allow them to concentrate solely on Spain - but they had long suspected that the French (or some other Bourbon power) had designs upon Corsica. This concerned the British mainly because of Corsica's proximity to Livorno, the key port of the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. English merchants did quite a bit of business in Livorno, where there was a substantial expatriate community. If a general war were to begin with the Bourbon powers, the city was also likely to be Britain's only friendly naval base in the Western Mediterranean east of Minorca. French control of Corsica would allow them to strangle British trade through Livorno completely, and would make the operation of a battle fleet out of Livorno more hazardous. Only a few months past, when Britain was at peace and Austria was still reeling from her defeat by the Turks, Corsica had seemed like an insignificant mote with no relevance to British or imperial policy. Now, however, the British were growing anxious, and the emperor began to perceive that little mote as a place worth taking notice of, if only to continue wooing the British and limiting the power of France in Europe.

    The emperor somewhat misjudged the intentions of French chief minister Cardinal André-Hercule de Fleury. The venerable cardinal, in fact, had long been an advocate of peace between France and Britain, a goal which he shared with his counterpart Sir Robert Walpole, whose period of dominance in Britain roughly paralleled that of Fleury in France. Both men, however, were nearing the end of their reigns. Walpole's influence was clearly declining; he had opposed the Spanish war but had been outmatched by popular will and his opponents in the parliament. Fleury, whose power was more secure as it depended on his close personal relationship with King Louis XV rather than the whims of the electorate (Fleury had been the king's tutor since the age of five), remained supreme, but the cardinal was now nearing 87 years of age and spent much of 1739 and 1740 suffering through long spells of illness. Despite his infirmity, he still held the reigns of power through trusted subordinates, but the vultures were circling in the form of court factions eager to supplant him. Fleury was never eager for war; he found France better served by neutrality in the Anglo-Spanish conflict, supported France's acceptance of the Pragmatic Sanction, and generally opposed another war with the Habsburgs. How long his influence (and indeed his life) would last, however, was another question.

    The defeat of Lieutenant-General Louis de Frétat, Marquis de Boissieux at Ponte Novu came as a great shock to the French, who could scarcely imagine such a catastrophe befalling a numerically superior French army at the hands of half-wild bandits led by a renegade charlatan. Boissieux's career seemed unlikely to survive it. Recovering from a flesh wound and taken ill again, Boissieux had sent a letter to the king in December requesting to be relieved of his command for reasons of health. His wound, in fact, was quite minor, but his health had indeed been poor of late - he had spent a good part of the previous summer struggling with dysentery. Whether he would have been sacked otherwise will never truly be known, as his resignation was accepted. The debacle also reflected badly on Nicolas Prosper Bauyn d'Angervilliers, the secretary of state for war who pushed Boissieux into seeking a decisive confrontation, but it scarcely mattered as the secretary died in February. His replacement, François Victor Le Tonnelier de Breteuil, was wholly subservient to Fleury's will.

    Fleury was souring on the Corsican adventure. He had worked hard to keep France at peace with its neighbors (whenever possible) and to put the state's finances on a stable footing. During his tenure thus far, France's debt had been substantially paid down, the currency had stabilized, and trade had grown considerably. Throwing money and lives away in Corsica for no tangible gain—for contrary to the fears of France's rivals, Fleury had no intention of annexation—seemed ill-advised, particularly when there was talk of impending war across the continent. Fleury remained concerned about the prospect of a closer Habsburg-Hanoverian relationship, and his representatives in Vienna complained constantly of the frequent conversations which Grand Duke Franz Stefan, the emperor's son-in-law, was said to have with British diplomats. Nevertheless, Boissieux's failure meant that France had little chance of preempting Austrian involvement if the emperor was inclined to it. Fleury, who was still hopeful that peace could be preserved, thus decided it was better to cooperate in this intervention than be left in the cold, and sent instructions to French diplomats in Vienna to discuss possible terms for the joint occupation.

    tg8OKef.png

    Lautrec's medal from the city of Geneva

    In the meantime a replacement was needed for Boissieux. In January, Lieutenant-General Daniel François de Gélas, Vicomte de Lautrec was summoned to Paris to receive his orders: Corsica was now his problem. The arc of Lautrec's career thus far was not very different from the man he was replacing. Both had served in Italy during the War of Polish Succession with the rank of maréchal de camp, and both had commanded divisions at the Battle of Guastalla in 1734. Lautrec had been appointed inspector-general of the infantry in 1736 and promoted to lieutenant-general in 1738, the same year as Boissieux. While Boissieux was sent to Corsica, however, Lautrec went to Switzerland. In that year, civil strife had broken out between the city's magistracy and the burghers, and Lautrec had been selected as a French plenipotentiary to mediate the conflict. During his time there (1737-8), he managed to forge a compromise between the two sides which proved so effective that the city demonstrated its gratitude by striking a medal in his honor. Lautrec was no mere diplomat—he had been a French officer since 1705 and had extensive experience in the field. Still, it is at least plausible that his success as a mediator in Geneva elevated him above France's many other available lieutenant-generals for consideration for this particular service. Aside from any possible negotiations with the rebels, he would have to deal with the disgruntled Genoese authorities and quite possibly manage a joint occupation with France's great continental rival, a task which might benefit from some tact and delicacy.[A]

    February was a quiet month on Corsica. Although low-level skirmishing in the occupied provinces never truly stopped, neither the rebels nor the French or Genoese attempted serious moves against one another. The most notable event was not a battle, but a wedding. In late February, King Theodore's "nephew" Matthias von Drost married Maria Rosa Colonna-Bozzi, the sister of Count Antonio Colonna-Bozzi and the niece of Chancellor Sebastiano Costa. It was an auspicious match for all parties involved. The prestige of being linked to the king's relations, even a rather distant relation like Drost, was clearly appealing to Drost's new brother-in-law. For Drost, it was even smarter; as a landless minor nobleman his prospects in Westphalia could not have been terribly bright, and he had made up his mind to link his fate to Corsica and his "uncle's" kingdom, for better or for worse. A marriage into the Colonna-Bozzi family ensured his acceptance into Corsican elite society and gave him access to the influence and power of a well-established clan. And there was more to the marriage than simply calculations of status and power; Drost and Count Colonna had become good friends, and while Drost did not marry for love we are told that his relationship with his wife was affectionate.[B]

    At the beginning of March, Theodore summoned his ministers and generals to a war council at Corti. Marquis Simone Fabiani, as the vice-president of the council, was present, along with minister of war Count Marc-Antonio Giappiconi, Adjutant-General Edward Sarsfield, Viscount Kilmallock, Lieutenant-General Andrea Ceccaldi, Lieutenant-General von Drost, Lieutenant-General Johann Friedrich von Neuhoff zu Rauschenburg, and Count Gianpietro Gaffori, whose key position as the army's quartermaster had been recently recognized by Theodore with his promotion from colonel to major-general. The royalists had learned that Boissieux had departed from Corsica near the end of February, but as far as they knew his replacement had not yet arrived. Maréchal de Camp Jean-Charles, Seigneur de Rousset held interim command, but he was clearly disinclined to do anything with it lest he suffer a career-ending disaster like Boissieux had. The Corsicans were equally unsure of what France had in store for them, or indeed what their strategy should be when the campaign season resumed. The occupation of the coasts had cut the king's correspondence to a trickle, which made Theodore anxious, as he had little information on developments in France or Fleury's further intentions.

    What the royalists did have was an army, or at least something like it. Fabiani had reorganized the militia which had wintered at Ponte Leccia into "proper" battalions and along with Kilmallock had done as much as he could to give them some modicum of training in that time. The government had paid the men to remain over the winter, but now winter was nearing its end. Fabiani forcefully argued that the men should be kept on the payroll, lest the training and organization they had acquired be lost, and the interior be left vulnerable to a new French offensive.

    The problem, as Gaffori pointed out, was money. The rebels still had a substantial reserve of weapons and ammunition, recently replenished by the Battle of Ponte Novu in which hundreds of French muskets, swords, and bayonets had been captured.[1] The state had no virtually no income, however, and while the syndicate-provided coffers had not yet run out, they would be depleted all the more quickly by expanding the regular forces. Gaffori explained that there was no way that Fabiani's new regiments could be paid for their entire year of enlistment with the money the government currently had. At some point—probably that summer, he surmised—they would have to hope that the soldiers would start accepting IOUs. Nevertheless, Fabiani carried the day. The marquis was among the royalist leaders with the closest personal relationship to Theodore, and the king rarely opposed him on military matters.

    The question then became what the rebels should do with their army. Several of the generals wanted to strike at Pietralba; it was uncomfortably close to the interior, and according to Rauschenburg's scouts the French had drawn down their forces there to a single reinforced battalion. The Corsicans would have the advantage of numbers and surprise. Others, particularly Ceccaldi, argued that the French should first be driven from the Castagniccia, for surely there they would be joined by large numbers of sympathetic militia. Theodore, however, was reluctant to attack the French either in the north or the east. They had not yet stirred from their winter slumber; was it such a good idea to rouse them prematurely? Although the king projected confidence in his soldiers, his private belief seems to have been that the best way to approach the French was through diplomatic means. That had served him well early on in Boissieux's term when the general had been as ready to talk as Theodore, but the 1739 campaign had demonstrated the limits of a strategy of continual obfuscation and delay.

    Theodore had another use for the army in mind. To the surprise of many, he suggested that an attack should be made neither against Pietralba nor the Castagniccia, but Aleria. Villemur had captured the fortress in his march northwards, but it had since been turned over to the Genoese army, which - according to Theodore's own spies - had only a few companies in the area. Capturing Aleria would mean the liberation of the Tavignano estuary and the nearby lagoons, which had been significant smuggling areas before the coast had been lost to the French and Genoese. Some concern was raised at the prospect of taking the fort unless artillery was also brought to bear, which would considerably delay the campaign, but Theodore reminded them that the rebels had, before his arrival, stormed and slaughtered the garrison there without any artillery, and recalled to them the success of the attack on Porto Vecchio, the first successful battle of his reign, in which the Corsicans had likewise surprised and taken a fortified position by storm. Questions remained—would the Alerian coastline be of any actual use with the French and Genoese still in command of the sea? Having taken Aleria, how would it be held? In retrospect, one wonders whether part of Theodore's motivation was to restore some contact with the outside world, as being a hermit-king in the mountains did not suit his temperament. Despite some misgivings, however, the council approved of the plan. Theodore had the strong support of Gaffori, and many others felt obligated to defer to his "genius," as Theodore's military reputation was still riding high after Ponte Novu.

    Three battalions were furnished for the purpose—the Giuseppe regiment and the Guards under Brigadier Gio-Giacomo Ambrosi di Castinetta—at the insistence of the war council that at least some of the regular forces needed to remain behind to defend the capital.[2] In total, this amounted to about 800 regulars placed under Castineta's command, a force that was expected to comfortably outnumber the Genoese garrison even before the addition of the local militia.


    Situation at the end of February 1740
    Green: Royalist control
    Red: Genoese control
    Blue: French or Franco-Genoese control
    White: Unknown or unaligned

    Footnotes

    [1] These muskets were mainly Model 1728 French infantry muskets [see image], several hundred of which were already in rebel hands by the time of Ponte Novu thanks to French troops killed or captured at San Pellegrino and elsewhere. The barrel of the Model 1728 was attached to the stock by iron bands, unlike the typical Liege muskets provided by the syndicate whose barrels were pinned into position. A banded barrel made for a sturdier and more durable musket that held up better to the rigors of back-country travel and hand-to-hand combat. In addition, there is some speculation that the Corsicans, who prized accuracy and often preferred taking aimed shots from cover, found a banded barrel better for sighting the musket (as military muskets of the period lacked actual sights). The rebels took an instant liking to the weapon and preferred the "French musket" to all other muskets during the Revolutionary era. Although few examples survive today, Corsican gunsmiths also converted a substantial amount of pinned-barrel Dutch/Liege muskets into banded-barrel muskets during the Revolutionary period and through the rest of the 18th century.
    [2] Typical European practice at this time was to name brigades after their colonel. Some armies numbered their regiments, but for most this was merely an administrative identifier and a means to establish ceremonial precedence rather than the common name of the unit. The Corsicans did not actually refer to Fabiani's new regiments as "first" and "second" at the time, although they did refer to the battalions within those regiments as first and second battalions, with the former under the colonel's command (or the major, in the colonel's absence) and the latter under the lieutenant-colonel.

    Timeline Notes

    [A] I don't really know why Boissieux and Maillebois were, in OTL, chosen for Corsican command, but it was notable to me that they were both veterans of the Italian theater of the War of Polish Succession. Thus, to find Boissieux's replacement ITTL, I started with other divisional commanders in Italy at that time. Frustratingly, most don't really have a lot of biographical info available on them, but Lautrec - who went on to become a Marshal of France IOTL - stood out to me for his diplomatic success and seemed like a decent choice.
    [B] Drost's marriage to Maria Rosa is OTL, although perhaps not at this exact time (some sources say 1736 or 1738; another 1748, which does not seem credible to me). The information on his family is conflicting and often rather suspect. It is alleged by some that his son, named Frederick or Francesco, married Maddalena Buonaparte, Napoleon's great-aunt.
     
    Last edited:
    Discord
  • Discord

    O9QhntE.png

    The Fort of Aleria, 19th century illustration

    The Aleria expedition was entrusted to Brigadier Count Gio-Giacomo Ambrosi di Castinetta, who had been given the colonelcy of the reorganized (and significantly reduced) guard regiment after the death of Lieutenant-Colonel Giovan Luca Poggi at Ponte Novu. The career of Poggi, a former Neapolitan officer, had been as glorious as it was brief, and he was destined for a prominent spot in the pantheon of revolutionary heroes. Poggi had boldly defended the Col de Teghime from the Genoese in 1736 with only 150 men, a splendid action which had made possible the decisive defeat of the Genoese at Rutali; he had led the capture of Vecchiaja, helping to seal the fate of Genoese San Fiorenzo, and then led an audacious raid with a captured Genoese galley to destroy vital supply ships under the very nose of the Genoese; his forces had relieved San Antonino at a pivotal moment and repulsed French attacks, which had helped preserve the Corsican army from likely destruction in the Balagna; he had led the Guard at San Pellegrino, where the French met their first defeat in open battle; and he had fought his final action at Ponte Novu, leading from the thickest part of the fighting and exhorting the guard to stand its ground until a French musket-ball claimed him. In some modern, less hagiographic assessments, Poggi does receive some mild criticism: his bravery and audacity are better documented than any true tactical skill, and as he tended to be the only Corsican commander on the field leading regular forces it was perhaps inevitable that he would outshine his comrades and their militia battalions. His earliest victories in the Nebbio, however, were accomplished with militia; and even without military genius, bravery and audacity count for quite a lot in warfare.

    Castinetta's record was rather less lustrous, although in his defense Poggi was an exceptionally tough act to follow. The count had fought bravely at Furiani and led the victorious siege of Bastia in Theodore's absence, although the thirsty and demoralized garrison had not put up much of a fight. As governor of occupied Bastia he had played little role in the Nebbio campaign and held back most of his soldiers, but he was responsible for dispatching Poggi and his company to the Col de Teghime in the aforementioned action and thus deserves at least some of the credit. As governor, his tenure had been effective if heavy-handed. He had supported the delaying action which kept Montmorency crawling down Capo Corso for months, although he had not let it personally. After Bastia, Castinetta had seen no major combat actions until Ponte Novu, where he had been given command of the rebel forces on the other side of the river. He had done his duty competently and intervened at a choice moment, and criticisms that he failed to trap the French or pursue them as doggedly as he could have can be dismissed given the paucity of his resources. Even Poggi would have been hard pressed to cut off and destroy a professional army more than three times as numerous with a force composed entirely of militia.

    The march to the coastal plain along the Tavignano was executed swiftly. The army encamped on the edge of the plain near Casaperta two days after leaving Corte. In the meantime, Castinetta had dispatched some men to nearby villages to rally local militia forces. They did not meet with much success—the mountainous lands around the Tavignano, scattered with little hilltop villages, did not make for a swift mustering of local manpower. The local population was also not particularly enthusiastic about taking up arms and attacking the Genoese. The region had been largely quiet since Brigadier Jean-Baptiste François, Marquis de Villemur's advance, and the people had generally followed the example of Marquis Saviero Matra (whose hometown was only a few miles to the north) by submitting to Genoese rule once more. Although his lieutenant in the guard Lieutenant-Colonel Antonio Buttafuoco urged an immediate attack, Castinetta wanted to remain at Casaperta for a few days to gain what strength they could. After another three days, however, fewer than two hundred militiamen had gathered, and the army's supply of food was running low. The soldiers had been issued eight days worth of bread at Corte, and Castinetta had restricted foraging as he feared his foraging parties would tip off the Genoese or leave his force vulnerable to an attack. In fact the Genoese had already learned of his presence during his encampment at Casaperta, presumably informed by a spy or just an unsympathetic local.

    The Genoese only had around 300 regulars at Aleria and were in no position to attack a force of around a thousand Corsicans. They could, however, send word to the French forces encamped near Cervione 16 miles to the north. Had the French swiftly descended on the royalists, the result might have been disastrous, but the French commander, Colonel Charles Cléron, Comte d'Haussonville, appears to have given the Genoese reports little weight and waited until the next day before even bothering to pass the word on to Brigadier Villemur. Faced with rebels in the Alesani valley much closer to home, he may have thought it a distraction, or simply the overactive imaginations of the Genoese. In the meantime, on March 14th, Castinetta finally decided to make his attack.

    To his surprise, Castinetta found the Genoese force ready and arrayed for battle. While outnumbered more than three to one, the Genoese had a strong position at Fort Aleria, a three-story blockhouse with soldiers posted in every window and gun-loop. The fort sat on a low rise above the plain, which was marshy and criss-crossed by tributaries of the Tavignano. After an initial attack across this terrain failed, Castinetta decided to withdraw, correctly assuming that if the Genoese were aware of him then they must have notified the French. It made no sense, in his estimation, to throw men away on such a strong position only to have to immediately vacate it once the French arrived, or even worse to be caught by the French and defeated.

    Despite light casualties, the morale of the army quickly plunged. The second most senior officer in the brigade, Colonel Paolo Francesco Giannoni, was a friend of Castinetta and a fellow native of Rostino and had supported his deicision. Buttafuoco, however, openly derided Castinetta for his incompetence and timidity, and found many sympathetic ears among the company officers, many of whom already disliked Castinetta. Theodore was in the habit of promoting "worthy" men to officer positions regardless of their background, but Count Castinetta was a dyed-in-the-wool elitist who could hardly conceal his scorn for commoners made into captains. Divisions soon spread among the rank-and-file, too, and a rumor circulated in the brigade that Castinetta was in the pay of the Genoese. In camp, the soldiers nearly started a battle with each other when a sergeant in Giannoni's company replied to an insult from a guardsman by pulling his knife and stabbing him. Castinetta, fearing a mutiny or assassination attempt, had his tent guarded by a picked group of Rostino soldiers. The army that returned to Corte was not very bloodied, but it had ceased to be an effective fighting force.

    In the field, the two colonels from Rostino had clearly been dominant, but this changed once they arrived at Corti. Buttafuoco was well connected; he was the son-in-law of Count Andrea Ceccaldi (as well as a fellow native of Vescovato) and a friend of Count Gianpietro Gaffori, two of the most powerful men in the war council. When the army arrived at Corti, Buttafuoco and his men immediately informed Gaffori of their interpretation of events. According to Castinetta's supporters, the brigadier had taken only prudent decisions: he had waited to gather local militia to bolster his strength, and upon seeing that surprise had been lost he decided not to press an attack which would have been very costly if it succeeded at all. Buttafuoco and the malcontents, however, gave a very different account. They claimed that Castinetta had dithered at Casaperta either out of cowardice or because he purposefully intended the attack to fail, and in the actual attack on the fort had only devoted a part of his strength and retreated without making a genuine attempt.

    Gaffori immediately took Buttafuoco's side, all the more effectively as Marquis Simone Fabiani, who had played the largest role in selecting the new officers, was at Ponte Leccia at the moment. The count informed King Theodore that there were rumors of cowardice or even treason surrounding Castinetta, and while he personally had no reason to believe them to be true he was convinced that the brigadier could not lead the guard under such a cloud. Although upset by Castinetta's failure, the king was reluctant to remove him—Castinetta was a powerful man in Rostino, a key royalist pieve whose militia had been essential to the victory at Ponte Novu. To dismiss him would be dangerous, and even more so under the suspicion of treason, however baseless, as removing him would appear to give credence to the rumor. Theodore decided to give him a "lateral promotion" instead. Summoning Castinetta to a royal audience, the king informed that he thought nothing of the expedition, and that such setbacks were merely the nature of war. Theodore thanked him for his loyalty, praised his wisdom in keeping order both as governor of Bastia and in command of the army, and informed him that he was being made militia commander of Rostino in order to bring some order and discipline to the militiamen there, whose service was vital to the national cause. Castinetta was not a fool; it was obvious that Buttafuoco and Gaffori had gotten their hooks into Theodore and had engineered his removal. Put on the spot by the king, however, he could only swallow his pride and accept the "honor." Nevertheless, it was a personal humiliation that the count would not soon forget.


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    Ponte Leccia, near the site of Fabiani's camp
    To avoid bad blood between Giannoni and Buttofuoco, who was now the senior officer in the guard, Giannoni's regiment was sent on to Ponte Leccia while the guard was retained at Corti. Upon Giannoni's arrival, Marquis Fabiani learned of what had transpired and was upset that Gaffori had taken it upon himself to meddle in the army's command, something manifestly outside his purview. Gaffori, however, had the belated approval of Count Marc-Antonio Giappiconi, the minister of war, and in any case Fabiani could not undo the king's act. Of far greater concern to him was the ill-discipline and disunion in the ranks of the regulars. Fabiani had indeed created a "national" army, but an unconsidered consequence of this was the grouping of Corsicans from all over the island together who had previously tended to serve in militia bands consisting of only their neighbors and kinsmen. They held suspicions and grudges against Corsicans from other districts, and tended to show more loyalty to their local "countrymen" than their actual officers. Fabiani demoted the sergeant who was responsible for the earlier knife attack (the stabbing had not been fatal) and announced that disrespect to officers and fighting in camp would be met with harsh punishment.

    It was a bad time for the rebels to be quarreling, as the French had finally received their new leader. Lieutenant-General Daniel François de Gélas, Vicomte de Lautrec, the new commander of the French forces in Corsica, had arrived at Bastia two days before the "battle" of Aleria. What he found did not please him. The idleness of winter quarters and the leadership vacuum had caused discipline to become intolerably lax. The soldiers' camps were rife with drunkenness, for while Corsica was poor in many things wine was not one of them. Meanwhile, the officers at Bastia spent their time gambling and holding balls. Lautrec immediately summoned his brigadiers to Bastia, where he commanded them to crack down on debauchery and idleness and prepare their battalions for deployment. Lautrec was not under the whip as Boissieux had been in the previous autumn, but he was nevertheless expected to make an advance against the rebels.

    Cardinal André-Hercule de Fleury, whose representatives had begun negotiations with the Austrians regarding the possible joint intervention, had informed Lautrec that the current proposal being discussed was based on a division of the island between north and south, with the French occupying the Diqua and the Austrians in the Dila. The specifics, however, were still up in the air, and there was no consensus on where exactly the proposed line of control would fall. The French wished to retain control of Ajaccio, despite its position in the south, as it was a key strategic port (and the island's second-largest city) and already occupied by French forces. The Austrians, however, were demanding parity, and wanted parts of the interior and eastern Diqua—in particular, Corti, Aleria, Fiumorbo, and the Tavignano—particularly if the French were going to retain Ajaccio. If Lautrec could take this territory in the interior, the French negotiating position would be stronger, and with luck the Austrians could be restricted to Porto Vecchio and the rather worthless mountain valleys of the interior Dila.

    Despite making preparations for their destruction, Lautrec was not averse to treating with the rebels' delegates. Only a week after his arrival, the general was presented with a delegation from King Theodore led by Father Erasmo Orticoni, the king's foreign minister. He bore a letter from the king himself in Theodore's usual grandiloquent prose, which welcomed Lautrec to "our fair kingdom" and expressed a desire for peace and friendly relations between Corsica and France. Lautrec was not particularly impressed, describing it as a fulsome and pompous letter. He would, however, entertain Orticoni, and refused the immediate demands of the Genoese that this "rebel spy" be handed over for execution. Lautrec was polite but unyielding; his government's position on the rebels and their so-called king had not changed. The terms of Fontainebleau stood: The rebels, if they wished to escape destruction, needed at once to disarm and throw themselves upon the mercy of the King of France, who would fairly consider the “just grievances” of the people. Orticoni responded that no Corsican doubted the justice and mercy of the Most Christian King, and explained that “the representatives of the nation” would consider these terms favorably if Lautrec could guarantee that French troops would be present, in perpetuity, to ensure Genoese observance of the King’s verdict. Lautrec was obviously unable to provide this guarantee, and the parties were once more at an impasse.

    Despite this failure, there was a breakthrough on the matter of prisoners held by each side. Although most of the rank-and-file French soldiers captured by the Corsicans over the course of the intervention had been released in the previous year because of a lack of food, Theodore had retained custody of their officers, including Colonel Armand de Bourbon-Malauze, Marquis de Malauze, as well as around 60 soldiers and officers captured at Ponte Novu in November. The presence of a marquis in the custody of “bandits” was a continuing embarrassment to the French. What the Corsicans wanted, in turn, were the “worthy hostages” who had been traded to Boissieux in the summer of 1738. When serious hostilities between the French and Corsicans began in October of that year, they had been moved to the Chateau d’If, a notorious island prison. General Boissieux, who had taken the “Corsican Vespers” as a personal betrayal, had always refused to release the hostages, but Lautrec considered them strategically worthless—they had been taken to guarantee the good behavior of the Corsicans, something they had obviously failed to do. Lautrec would not return the hostages to Corsica, as that would simply be supplying leaders to the rebellion, but he offered to free the hostages under condition of perpetual exile. They would be given their liberty, but would have to swear not to return to Corsica and would be turned over to the Genoese for execution if they did. Several other “royalists” currently in French custody captured since then, who had not yet been rendered to the Genoese, would be given the same offer.[1]

    Orticoni returned with this offer to Theodore, who enthusiastically gave his assent. Numerically, it was far from an even trade—the Corsicans were returning more than 80 Frenchmen in exchange for fewer than twenty of their own, who would not even be permitted to return to Corsica. Realistically, however, there was not much else that Theodore could buy with his French prisoners, and he was grateful to be rid of men who required scarce resources to feed and guard. In addition, he felt an obligation to the families which had agreed to send men into captivity, including his High Chancellor and good friend Sebastiano Costa whose son Filippo Maria was one of the prisoners. Lautrec kept his end of the bargain, and two weeks later the hostages were set free in Marseilles. Fearing Genoese assassins, however, they did not stay long, and boarded a Spanish ship bound for Naples. Even there they were not out of danger, but the exiles were offered protection by Joseph Valembergh, the Dutch consul. The nature of Valembergh's interest is not precisely clear, but there is circumstantial evidence that links him to the syndicate, including alleged correspondence between Valembergh and Lucas Boon, one of the syndicate's founding partners. Frustrated, the Genoese turned to the Neapolitan government. Their efforts to seek extradition, however, were stonewalled by the king's secretary of state, José Joaquín di Montealegre, Duca di Salas. The Genoese do not seem to have been aware that Montealegre was married to the sister of Theodore's late wife.[A]


    Footnotes
    [1] One of the hostages of the Chateau d’If, Alerio Francesco Matra, the son of Marquis Saviero Matra, had already been granted this liberty months before on account of his father’s collaboration with the French.

    Timeline Notes
    [A] Theodore's "network" was impressive. His career would not have been possible had he not benefited from having friends, relatives, friends-of-relatives, old war buddies, and so on in seemingly every country in western Europe. One could almost believe he was protected by some vast international conspiracy—and given his contacts in the world of Freemasonry, maybe he was. The OTL events surrounding Theodore in Naples were much stranger and more fantastical than anything in ITTL. IOTL, two Dutch captains paid by the syndicate were abducted off the streets and imprisoned by their own consul for not delivering the arms in their ships to Corsica. Later, Theodore was arrested in Naples, imprisoned at Gaeta, and then released in secret and placed on a ship to Teraccina, all of which appears to have been a ploy—possibly masterminded by Montealegre—to help him escape Genoese assassins. That it was not a "real" imprisonment could also be intuited by the fact that, while he was under custody at Gaeta, the King of Naples ordered an engraving to be made of Theodore. Not everybody gets a royally commissioned portrait while in prison.
     
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    Notes on the Crown of Corsica
  • Really? That's interesting. I thought the King of Sardinia was the titular (although I suppose a claim does not make a de jure reality) King of Corsica?

    Storytime!

    Corsica and Sardinia were originally claimed by the Pope in the 11th century on the basis of the fraudulent “Donation of Constantine,” which purported to show that Constantine had donated lands of the Western Empire, including “the various islands,” to the papacy. The Pope never ruled the islands directly, but did at various times grant ecclesiastical control over them to the Archbishops of Pisa and Genoa.

    In 1297, Pope Boniface VIII created the “Kingdom of Sardinia and Corsica” and granted it to James II of Aragon. James did not actually control any part of Corsica or Sardinia at the time, but Boniface gave him title to the islands in order to purchase his help removing his brother Frederick from the Kingdom of Sicily. James never actually got around to doing that, but he kept the title, and in 1324 made good on it by invading Sardinia. The conquest of Sardinia, however, took nearly a century to complete, and in that time Aragon made no attempt at Corsica. Only in the first half of the 15th century did Aragon actually try to wrest Corsica from Genoa (which had fully acquired it in 1347 after defeating the Pisans), but despite occasional success they were never able to permanently drive out the Genoese and eventually gave up. Other countries tried at various times in the 15th and 16th centuries, most notably Milan and France, but the isle remained Genoese.

    Thus, while Sardinia remained under the control of the Crown of Aragon, Corsica did not, and this de facto split between the two islands eventually led to the split of the title, apparently in or around the reign of Ferdinand II of Aragon. In the early 16th century the Crown of Aragon became part of united Spain, and the Spanish monarchs styled themselves "King of Sardinia" and "King of Corsica," with the former being actual and the latter purely in pretense. They never stopped using it: “King of Corsica” is, in fact, still one of the titles used by the King of Spain in 2017.

    When the Kingdom of Sardinia was formally ceded to Victor Amadeus II of Savoy in exchange for Sicily in 1720, it was very clearly just the Kingdom of Sardinia, as the old medieval composite kingdom of “Corsica and Sardinia” had been obsolete for centuries. As far as I know, the Savoyard kings never laid claim to Corsica and never styled themselves as Kings of Corsica, even in pretense.

    The first Doge of Genoa to also be crowned King of Corsica was Giovanni Francesco Brignole Sale in 1637. This did not reflect an actual change in the status or ownership of Corsica; rather, the lapsed title was “revived” as a way to bolster the independence and stature of the Republic by elevating the Doge from a mere duke to a king, thus making him equal in principle to any other European monarch. While the Kings of Spain were still using the title “King of Corsica," this was understood to be a title in pretense only, and as far as I know no objection was raised in Madrid to Genoa using the title in fact. Thus, by the time Theodore arrived on Corsica, the Doges of Genoa had been crowning themselves kings of Corsica for 99 years.

    In other words, Corsica was a well-established royal title with a medieval pedigree just as old as that of Sardinia, and which had been continually claimed since its creation by Aragon, Spain, and then Genoa (even if those claims had not always been exercised). One could dispute Theodore’s legitimacy as King of Corsica, but nobody could reasonably dispute that such a kingdom and title existed.

    Theodore knew this history very well, and in fact wrote letters to the pope urging him to renew the papacy’s ancient claim to the island. He proposed that he would conquer the island from the Genoese in the pope's name, acknowledge Corsica as a papal fief, and rule as the pontiff's vassal king. All he wanted in return was pontifical recognition of his title (and, if possible, some monetary support), which even with the rather slight temporal power of the 18th century papacy would have been helpful in legitimating his rule. The pope, however, never gave him a reply.

    Considering Theodore’s rather dubious commitment to Catholic orthodoxy, this might have made for an interesting relationship.
     
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    La Caccia
  • La Caccia

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    A pagliaghju, a traditional drystone hut used as a dwelling and sheepfold, at the refuge of Puscaghia near the pass of Capronale.

    Every village in the high mountains, in these days, was but one half of a whole. In the summer, when the mountains were warm and the alpine pastures lush with grass, the mountaineers and their herds dwelt in the Niolo and the other alpine pieves which formed the great natural citadel of Corsica. When the cold winds began to blow, the shepherds would lead their flocks down the slopes to the coast to greener pastures. These patterns of transhumance were well established over generations, such that each village in the mountains had a counterpart by the coast, a piece of grazing land to which they laid claim and made pilgrimage before every winter. Some led their sheep and goats high over the mountain spine of the island to Galeria and Chiomi on the rugged western coast. Many men of the Niolo, however, traditionally went north to the rich Balagna, for not all land there was under the plow and there was still enough grazing to go around.

    These seasonal migrations were sometimes a source of trouble. As the mountaineers' coastal fields were abandoned in the summer, it was easy for those more accustomed to farming than herding to perceive them as vacant lands, left to the weeds by ignorant herdsmen who lived like savages amid the rocks. Corsican farmers tended nevertheless to observe the mountaineers' claims, for the shepherds could be dangerous, and feuds among the Corsicans had a tendency to end in violence. Genoese landowners, however - who were often absentee - were more interested in profits than long-term coexistence, and lacked the grudging respect the lowland Corsicans had for their upland cousins. At times their attempts to maximize returns at the expense of the shepherds turned violent. A few years before the start of the rebellion, a Genoese landowner in the Dila had fenced in "his" land to prevent it being chewed up by goats. A band of shepherds tore down his fences, gave his house a fusillade of musket-fire, and let their herds feast on his garden.

    The Corsican rebellion had on occasion disrupted these patterns of migration, but its overall effects had been mixed. Certainly some shepherds had suffered from confiscations of their animals by the Republicans or Royalists, but the uprising had also forced many of the Genoese landlords and their agents to abandon their lands to the benefit of the highland pastoralists. The winter of 1739-40, however, was different. With a French army in the Balagna backed by Genoese occupation forces, the traditional migration of the Niolesi to the north was made all but impossible. The Genoese suspected them all to be rebels and infiltrators, in part because of the raids of General Rauschenburg's mountaineers earlier in the year. The pack animals and hussar mounts of the invaders took the best of the coastal grazing lands, and the shepherd's flocks were frequently taken from them at the point of a bayonet, either out of "military necessity" or, more often, as an act of economic warfare against the rebellion to starve Theodore's followers of all resources. Some of the Niolesi drove their flocks west instead, but came into conflict with other shepherds over scarce grazing land. Many retreated to the mountains and foothills and tried as best they could to feed themselves and their flocks, resulting in significant die-offs of livestock. All blamed the Genoese and the French. When the snow began to thaw and rumors of war again began to circulate around the island, they came down from the mountains with hollow cheeks and angry eyes, demanding bread and justice.

    Rauschenburg was the chief beneficiary in spite of the fact that he was in some sense to blame for their troubles. He had been raiding the Balagna for months; his success had been mixed at best, but the Niolesi knew that his business was vengeance on their enemies. Although most of his force had vanished during the winter, he retained a few loyal followers, and with them traveled to the Asco valley in western Caccia after the council of war in March. The valley was full of shepherds and wanderers, many destitute save for their old guns, and he was quick to realize the recruiting potential. While he had only just heard his "uncle" Theodore refuse to authorize an attack against the French at the council, Rauschenburg reasoned that if he did not make use of the Niolesi they would simply become bandits and be of no use to anyone. The word went out that men of the mountains who wished to fight for the king—and plunder the Genoese—were welcome at Asco. On the 22nd of March, only a week after the failure of Brigadier Castinetta at Alesani, Rauschenburg and some 400 fighters descended the mountains into the eastern Balagna. The villages of Speloncato and Belgodere were sacked, and the Niolesi took flour, livestock, and anything else of value. At Belgodere, a company of Genoese soldiers was overwhelmed and forced to flee; the French reported eleven Genoese killed and more wounded.

    The strategic effect of this raid was minimal. The new French commander Daniel François de Gélas, Vicomte de Lautrec, however, felt obligated to respond despite that preparation for a campaign into the interior was still ongoing. Convinced that Boissieux's coddling of the rebels had bred contempt for the French forces and stoked resistance, Lautrec had determined that no outrage against the occupying forces would be tolerated. He ordered Brigadier Claude François d'Alboy, Sieur de Montrosier, then at San Fiorenzo, to lead a battalion into Caccia and make a punitive demonstration. Reinforced with several companies of the garrison at Pietralba and the miquelets de Roussillon, Montrosier marched on Castifao with around 600 men.

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    Ponte Piana, north of Castifao

    Marching among the maquis-covered hills of Caccia, the French soon found themselves subject to harassment by local shepherds and irregulars. Such attacks, however, were mostly just an inconvenience. It was not until the valley of the Tartagine—a sub-tributary of the Golo—that the French met any kind of massed resistance. Once again, a Genoese bridge was the focal point of the fighting, as just over a hundred local militiamen had gathered to defend the Ponte Piana from the invaders. Although they put up a respectable resistance for a hastily-gathered band of militia, Ponte Piana was not Ponte Novu, and the French were able to force the bridge. Castifao was taken thereafter, and the French moved on to the nearby village of Moltifao only a mile to the south. Between them was the Convent of San Francisco di Caccia, where some local militia and Niolesi irregulars had holed up. The convent, defended by only thirty men, nevertheless took several hours for the French to capture it; nearly all of its defenders died in the fighting.
    Having occupied Castifao and Moltifao, the French found that there was not much punitive action to take—some thin-looking sheep were taken and some olive trees cut, but Caccia was a poor district even in the best of times. The mountains, however, were full of enemies, and while Rauschenburg's men and other bands of irregulars could not face the French head to head, they could continually annoy Montrosier's battalion by creeping through the brush on the mountainsides and taking potshots at the French soldiers. Montrosier sent patrols up the slopes which succeeded in driving them off, but only temporarily. The French remained at Moltifao overnight to complete their "work," and then Montrosier would return to Pietralba.

    The royalists quickly learned of the French occupation of these towns. Captain-General Marquis Simone Fabiani counseled patience; his faith in his new army, such as it was, had been shaken by recent events, and in any case he felt that all possible strength should be held in reserve for an attack on the interior. Although he was unsure of Montrosier's strength, he suspected that this was not that attack. As it happened, however, the colonels of one of the new regiments was Carlo Felice Giuseppe, a native of Pietralba who had formerly been the militia commander of Caccia. Giuseppe, a longtime veteran who had been wounded at Ponte Novu, had been against the Aleria expedition (he agitated for his hometown to be liberated from the French instead) and his regiment had remained behind to defend Ponte Leccia. Now, he demanded action. Although Fabiani opposed the idea, the morale of the troops and their officers worried him; Lieutenant-Colonel Antonio Buttafuoco of the guard and Colonel Paolo Francesco Giannoni were already at each others' throats, having been on opposite sides over the Castinetta controversy, and he could not afford to alienate Giuseppe as well. Reluctantly, he agreed, but insisted on leading the troops personally rather than entrusting supreme command to Giuseppe.

    Advancing up the Asco river from Ponte Leccia towards Moltifao, the royalists came within the sight of the French just after noon on the 28th. With three battalions and the foreign troops, the royalists numbered just under a thousand men compared to fewer than 600 Frenchmen split between the two villages. With around half of his force, Montrosier made a line of battle on the road between Moltifao and the bank of the Asco, a strong defensive position between two hills. An initial attack by the royalists left much to be desired and was easily repelled despite the inferior numbers of the French, and soon Montrosier was further reinforced by companies marching from Castifao. Giuseppe, however, was a local; he knew the terrain better than the French, and got Fabiani's permission to lead a battalion on a shepherd's path around one of the hills upon which the French flank was fixed. Realizing that his flank was turned, Montrosier ordered a retreat. The French withdrew in good order, although picked at by the regulars and a growing number of irregulars coming down from the mountains to join the fray. Considering himself greatly outnumbered, Montrosier soon decided to abandon the position entirely, and withdrew towards Pietralba as he had originally planned, albeit a bit earlier than expected. He was once more stymied at Ponte Piana, where another band of irregulars had seized the bridge from his pickets, but once more the French smashed through and managed to secure their retreat. The victory was a much-needed shot in the arm for the royalists, but the force they had been up against was only battalion-sized, and although Montrosier's force was given a bloody nose the Corsicans had not been able to cut off and destroy them.

    Lautrec was planning a much more substantial advance. On April 6th, forces from five regiments—Montmorency, Auvergne, Flandre, Forez, and Nivernais—gathered at Pietralba under Lautrec's command, along with a squadron of the Rattsky hussars. In total, this amounted to some 2,500 men, considerably smaller than Boissieux's four thousand troops at Ponte Novu but nevertheless a very significant force. Lautrec sent Montrosier back to Moltifao with a battalion of infantry and the hussars, where he once more made short work of the local forces, while Brigadier Jean de Saignard, Sieur de Sasselange was given operational command over the main body of the force. Against him the royalists had around 1,000 regulars, 150 foreigners, and approximately 800 militiamen from surrounding pieves. The Guard was held in reserve near the Asco-Tartagine fork, while Rauschenburg, with several hundred more Niolesi irregulars, was prevented from joining the army in a timely fashion by the presence of Sasselange in the west.

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    Pietralba

    The Corsicans opted to make the first move, with Colonel Giannoni and a large body of militia occupying a ridge of hills behind a small tributary of the Navaccia on the morning of the 10th. Rather than allowing this force to entrench itself, Lautrec ordered an immediate attack. Although the French were hindered by the uneven local terrain, Sasselange nevertheless managed to advance swiftly against the Corsican position. The results were disastrous—Giuseppe's regiment, still coming up from the rear, was not yet in position, and Giannoni's men were intermixed with the undisciplined militia in a manner that negated the cohesion of his own men. When the French made a serious attack, many of the militiamen fled, creating confusion and opening holes in the Corsican ranks. The Corsicans were routed, and even Giuseppe's unengaged regiment began a hasty retreat.

    Captain-General Fabiani seemed once again to be in the place of trying to manage the aftermath of a devastating defeat. The battle, however, was not yet over. As the story goes, Fabiani commandeered Giannoni's trumpeters and called for Buttafuoco to advance with the Guard. He rode to the Guard's standardbearer, waving his sword in his hand, and shouted for the Corsicans to rally around the king's flag. As the French had no cavalry present, the Corsicans had been retreating without close pursuit, and many of them stopped fleeing at the spectacle. When Sasselange reordered his troops after the assault and renewed his march southwards, he was surprised to find a new line of Corsican infantry forming up less than two miles to the south. He ordered a steady advance in battle formation across the gently rolling field between the two armies, bounded on his left by the mountain slopes and on his right by the Navaccia and the Tartagine. Fabiani, observing the French advance, was said to have regretfully commented that it was "the most perfect sight for an artilleryman." It was, alas, a battle without artillery.

    Rather than intermix the regulars and the militia, which had proved disastrous a few hours before, Fabiani placed the militia as an advance line ahead of his regulars, perhaps hoping to utilize them as skirmishers. They were the first to meet the French advance, and did not do much better than the first time they had fought that day; according to a French officer present, they fired too early to have much effect, and then a French bayonet charge drove them from the field. Having seen off this force, however, the French found themselves facing the regulars on a low rise near the south end of the field. Although superior in numbers to the Corsican regulars, the French were constrained by the frontage of the field, and Fabiani had tried to even the odds by placing his men in two ranks instead of the three ranks of the French. Having just driven off one body of Corsicans with ease, Sasselange now ordered another advance with the bayonet. His troops proved unequal to his enthusiasm; they had already marched more than four miles that day, much of it painfully slowly while in battle order, and were winded from the charge they had just made. Unlike the militia, the Corsican regulars held their fire until effective range, and to the shock of all parties involved the French attack fizzled under the thunder of Corsican musketry.

    The engagement then became one of volleys, as Sasselange sought to use the superior training and discipline of his troops to overwhelm the enemy. The Corsicans, after all, did not have a sterling reputation of standing and taking fire. Undoubtedly the French had the upper hand in firepower, but many of their shots seemed to have missed the mark. Fabiani later opined that, because of the slightly elevated position of the Corsicans, once the battlefield was obscured by smoke the French frequently either fired straight ahead as they were trained, thus hitting the ground, or overcompensated and sent bullets whistling above the heads of the Corsicans. Only after an extended firefight did Sasselange order another advance up the slope. This met with another heavy volley from the Corsicans, but abruptly Fabiani's right wing gave way, possibly because of the death of Lieutenant-Colonel Gio Paolo Giudicelli, commanding officer on the far right. Thinking that a general retreat was happening, Colonel Giannoni likewise withdrew. The Guard and Giuseppe's battalion held, and according to Costa actually repelled the French attack on their positions, but finding that their flank was turned and many of their comrades were fleeing they too fell into a retreat. Fabiani tried in vain to rally his army a second time, but the men were shaken, bloodied, and tired. The army only stopped retreating once it reached Ponte Leccia.

    Sasselange had taken the field and claimed victory, but it was somewhat hollow. The Corsicans had proved surprisingly resilient and seem to have given as good as they got, with each army suffering in the neighborhood of two hundred casualties. Lautrec's intent that day had been for Sasselange's force to attack Ponte Leccia, but this was now quite out of the question. Not only was the day gone and the men exhausted, but the Battle of Pietralba had forced the French to reassess the situation. Reviewing the day's action with Sasselange and his other officers, Lautrec determined that trying to force Ponte Leccia with his existing battalions against the resistance he had just seen was too risky. Above all, he did not want another Ponte Novu. Thus, despite the French victory at Pietralba, the effect of the engagement was to delay Lautrec's invasion by nearly two weeks as additional battalions were moved up and the general focused on suppressing Rauschenburg's troublesome irregular forces which continued to menace his flank.

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    Otto Ferdinand von Abensperg und Traun, Austrian commander-in-chief in Italy
    As the Corsicans grappled with one great power, the intervention of another was moving ever closer to reality. Although negotiations between Austria, France, and Genoa for the joint occupation were still ongoing, Emperor Karl VI determined to push ahead with the appropriate military preparations in expectation of a formal concord. In late March, instructions were sent to Feldzeugmeisters Otto Ferdinand, Graf von Abensperg und Traun, captain-general and governor of Milan, and Karl Franz, Freiherr von Wachtendonk, governor of Livorno, to prepare their troops for departure.

    Although Vienna's latest proposed figure for the intervention force was 4,800 men, the imperial general staff estimated that only around 2,000 of those would actually be present and ready for service by May without stripping Austrian Italy of its garrisons. This initial force would consist of elements of the Deutschmeister, Gyulai, and Wachtendonk infantry regiments. For many of the soldiers of the Gyulai Infantry, a Royal Hungarian regiment, this would be their second tour on Corsica; the regiment had been part of the first imperial intervention in 1731-32. The emperor had insisted that the Austrian complement had to be represented by an officer of equal rank to Boissieux and Lautrec, and while the emperor delayed any formal appointment pending a final agreement he had informally chosen Feldmarschallieutenant Otto Anton, Graf von Walsegg, who presently commanded the garrison at Parma, to receive this honor.[A]


    Timeline Notes
    [A] It is even more difficult to find biographical information about Austrian generals prior to the WoAS than French ones. Walsegg is a pretty obscure historical figure, but he was definitely involved in the War of Polish Succession and at the death of Emperor Charles VI he was indeed in charge at Parma under von Traun's overall command. All I really have to flesh him out are some snippets of letters from him to his superiors and other officers in the early years of the WoAS. For example, on Tuscany: "The nobility and the people hate the present government more than the Devil." On the defenses of Mantua: "Everything was ruined in Mantua; the palisades were burned, stolen, and the fascines torn." On preparing for the Spanish invasion: "We are in the greatest tranquility... as if were not concerned with the arrival of the Spaniards, as we are with our four incomplete infantry regiments!" Most of the quotes I've found are in the same general vein of "everything is fucked;" he seems like a bit of a pessimist. He was promoted to FZM in 1741, but did not survive the war. There were some other options I could have gone with, including Wachtendonk himself, but given Wachtendonk's widely reported contacts with the rebels and English consuls I doubt the Genoese would have accepted him.
     
    Calvary
  • Calvary

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    The Granitula, a spiral religious procession traditionally held on Good Friday

    Although it had been a respectable showing by the Corsicans, the Battle of Pietralba did little to bolster the morale and confidence of the rebels. Marquis Simone Fabiani's conduct was generally praised, but soon jealousy and recrimination—which had never fully tamped down after the recent Aleria debacle—began dividing the royalists again. Colonel Carlo Felice Giuseppe, among others, accused Colonel Paolo Francesco Giannoni of cowardice. "Who has ever heard," Chancellor Sebastiano Costa recounts Giuseppe as saying, "of a captain fleeing the field twice in one battle?"[1] Lieutenant-Colonel Antonio Buttafuoco, who already hated Giannoni, was quick to join in. This was especially injurious to the royalist cause because of the importance of Rostino and its militia to the defense of Ponte Leccia and the rest of the interior. The men of Rostino had already been aggrieved by the sacking of Brigadier Gio-Giacomo Ambrosi di Castinetta, and after having fought and bled on the field they bristled at Giannoni, another one of their native sons, being ridiculed as a coward.

    It was inevitable that this conflict would escalate. On the 15th, just five days after the battle, King Theodore obtained a most damning letter. Allegedly sent by Castinetta to Giannoni, it bemoaned the state of the royalist command and proposed the assassination of Gianpietro Gaffori and Marc-Antonio Giappiconi, Theodore's secretaries of state and war, respectively. Two other captains of Rostino, Clemente Paoli and Marco Pasqualini, were also named as actual or potential co-conspirators. According to Costa, the letter was only found because Giannoni, being quite illiterate, had the letter read aloud to him by an aide, which was overheard by a militiamen who subsequently stole the letter and gave it to the king's men. Discovered two days before Easter Sunday, it became known in Corsican history as the "Good Friday Plot" (Congiura del Venerdì Santo).

    Giappiconi advised the arrest of all those suspected of participation, but Theodore and Costa knew that this was very likely to start a civil war. Instead, Theodore rode to Ponte Leccia on the following day, and in a personal audience with Giannoni confronted him about the letter and asked him what he knew of the plot. Giannoni threw himself on the mercy of the king, insisting that he remained loyal and claiming that he had never agreed to support such a scheme. Theodore could not prove otherwise; he knew only that Castinetta had invited Giappiconi to the plot and mentioned Paoli and Pasqualini as sympathetic. It was certainly suspicious that Giannoni had not reported the letter immediately, but there was no proof that he had sent any reply. Paoli (who was Giannoni's nephew) denied having received any such letter and rejected any association with an assassination scheme, but Pasqualini vanished with a number of his kinsmen. That left only Castinetta, but removing him would be no less dangerous now than after Aleria. Conscious that his crown—and perhaps his life—balanced on the knife's edge, Theodore did nothing.

    The day after Theodore confronted Giannoni and Paoli was Easter Sunday, and the king was determined to make a show of unity. Against the advice of his advisers, he chose to celebrate the holiday at Morosaglia, the very heart of Rostino, although for obvious reasons Gaffori and Giappiconi did not join him there. The day was peaceful; a large crowd gathered to take part in the traditional Easter procession and to see the king, and Theodore ate dinner at Clemente Paoli's home. He even exchanged a few polite words with Castinetta, whose home was only a short walk away. The king's display of fearlessness and clemency seemed to have a soothing effect. Underneath the surface, however, tension remained. This was not the jubilant Easter at Cervioni four years past, just before his coronation, when the people cheered for their immanent liberation; this was an Easter celebrated by a people under siege, who had been ground down by years of struggle and did not know who to trust even among their fellow Corsicans.


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    Mountains of the Upper Asco

    Despite stubborn resistance, Lieutenant-General Johann Friedrich von Neuhoff zu Rauschenburg was being steadily driven back by the concerted advance of the French. He retreated up the Asco valley, where the terrain was too difficult for the French to pursue him, but by occupying the village of Asco itself Brigadier Montrosier was able to trap him and his Niolesi followers in the high mountains. Surrounded by some of the highest mountains in Corsica, Rauschenburg had no easy escape, and while Montrosier dared not try and root him out of the Forest of Carozzica in the high Asco, he hardly needed to. With little food, the Niolesi would surely starve or be forced to surrender. The French, however, underestimated the mountaineers. Under cover of night, Rauschenburg and his column descended the valley and got within half a mile of the village of Asco, where the French sentries waited, but then turned south and climbed the small tributary valley of the Pinneta, where an old and difficult shepherds' trail led over the Valle Bonna Pass and into the basin of the upper Golo, the heart of Niolo. Rauschenburg had given the French the slip, but he had been effectively taken off the board for the time being. The mountaineers would be unable to render any assistance to the royal army in central Corsica. With this threat removed, Lieutenant-General Lautrec now felt confident enough to resume his southwards advance. Some of Montrosier's companies were reunited with the main force, along with further reinforcements from the northeast, bringing his force to approximately 2,800 foot and 100 horse. On April 22nd, twelve days after the Battle of Pietralba, the French army marched forth from its camp once more.

    Fabiani once more led the Corsican army to face the threat. This time, however, King Theodore joined him, udnerstanding that this engagement was no less critical than Ponte Novu. If Ponte Leccia fell, there would be little to stop the French from reaching Corti, which was no more than a two day march further south. The Corsican army arrayed itself alongside the river Asco, across a half-mile gap between the mountains on either side. It was a well-considered defensive position which guarded against any flanking maneuvers, but it nevertheless required the Corsicans to hold their ground against a larger French force across an open field and drive them from it, a feat which they had never before accomplished. The odds against them were even worse than at Pietralba, for while French strength had grown the rebels had diminished. While hundreds of militiamen did come to the king's call, support from Rostino was anemic, and Castinetta himself failed to show up despite earlier promises. All told, the Corsicans had only around 1,800 men against nearly 3,000 French soldiers.

    Approaching the gap required the French to cross the Asco. Fed by snowmelt from the high mountains, river was shallow enough to wade through but freezing cold. Theodore, recognizing that his army was at a serious disadvantage, directed Fabiani to use this crossing against the French. It was not enough to simply occupy the bank; the French could cross further up, and by way of Piedigriggio bypass the Corsican position entirely, provided they had sufficient knowledge of the local terrain. The king instead thought to lure the French across by positioning his army some distance back from the river. As the French were crossing, he would order an attack, catch the French off-guard, and turn them back in confusion.

    As expected, the French began their crossing just after noon on the 22nd, and as ordered the Corsicans rushed forth to meet them. The Corsicans, however, were too far back, or perhaps the timing was botched; charging at the stream, they were dismayed to find that the first line of French soldiers was already lined up or very nearly so, and the French infantry was able to get off a largely coherent volley as they approached. The Corsicans turned out to be more disordered from their charge than the French were from the crossing. Some, warned off by the solid line of white coats and their volley of musketry, broke off the advance to fall back or return fire; others drove home the charge and fought fiercely, but were already winded from the long run over the field and were soon overwhelmed by ever-growing numbers of French infantry. When this chaotic attack failed to break the French, the Corsicans recoiled, and there was a general panic. Next the trumpets sounded on the French right as the hussars drove their horses across the river. It was the death knell of the royal army. In short order the whole royalist force collapsed.[A]

    It was a crushing defeat. The hussars, though few in number, slaughtered men in droves. Hundreds threw down their arms and were taken prisoner. Those that escaped did so by scattering up into the hills, where there was some skirmishing after the main battle was over, or by reaching the bridge of Ponte Leccia a mile away where a reserve company of the Guard had been stationed. King Theodore escaped, as did General Fabiani despite being shot in the arm. Colonel Giannoni and Lieutenant-Colonel Silvestre Colombani also escaped, but Colonel Giuseppe was captured. Fabiani, despite being wounded, managed to rally a few hundred fleeing men at the bridge. Yet he knew that he could not hold it, and in any case the crossing at Ponte Leccia was easily bypassed. A guard of forty men, both foreigners and Corsicans, volunteered to remain as a rearguard, while Fabiani and the king rode southwards towards Corti. This small force held back a French battalion for two hours, finally surrendering when half their men were dead or wounded.

    The carefully maintained coalition of Corsican royalists quickly began to unravel. Colonel Giannoni, who had run into Fabiani during the retreat, informed the general that he was going to Rostino to raise men for the defense of the kingdom. He did indeed go to Rostino, but made no further attempt at resistance and capitulated as soon as the French arrived. On the day after the battle, the French occupied Morosaglia, Piedigriggio, and Ponte Novu, which in turn cleared the way for the advance of French forces on the eastern coast into the interior. The Rostino, formerly a hotbed of resistance, was quickly pacified, with all the alleged "Good Friday" plotters surrendering themselves to the French. Although a large part of the Castagniccia was still in active revolt, the province was nearly encircled.

    Having returned to Corti, Theodore and his ministers grappled with what had to be done in the wake of such a disaster. Much of the "regular army," which had only been in existence for a few months, was either killed, wounded, captured, or deserted; Fabiani estimated he had no more than 500 men left from all regiments, plus whatever local militia was still willing to fight. He recommended defending Omessa, a village at a chokepoint on the upper Golo valley six miles from Corti, but this was merely a delaying tactic. Corti itself could be defended, but its food stores were not great, and as it was essentially a medieval fortress it would not stand long once the French brought artillery to bear. Fabiani, Gaffori, Giappiconi, Colombani, Lieutenant-Colonel Drevitz, and Viscount Kilmallock pledged their loyalty to the king and promised to do all they could, but Costa and Theodore's secretary Richard Denis agreed that the mood was grim. None expected to win, and many expected to die.


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    The Citadel of Corti

    All agreed that Theodore needed to leave. When it was suggested to him, Theodore initially refused to leave his capital—or at least went through the motions of protest—but eventually gave in to the entreaties of his generals. He would, he said, relocate to a safer locale to assuage their concerns for his person, but he assured them that he had no intention of leaving Corsica as long as his subjects still fought for him and their freedom. With respect to where he would go, it was agreed that a retreat down the Tavignano would be pointless; with Aleria still in Genoese hands, he would likely be captured. The only option was to escape over the mountains, going by way of Venaco up the valley of the Vecchio. The easiest pass was that of Vizzavona, which allowed a descent into the valley of the Gravona leading all the way to Ajaccio. That, however, was the domain of Marquis Luca d'Ornano, and Theodore's ministers were unsure if his loyalty would withstand the shock of the loss at Ponte Leccia. Gaffori urged the king not to place himself in the hands of the marquis, who he suspected would sell him to the French. The court concluded that it would be better if the king were to travel to Ghisoni and over the Pass of Verdi, which led into the valley of the Taravo. In that direction was Zicavo, where it was believed Theodore would be safe.

    Having accepted this course of action, Theodore then declared that his ministers were released from their oaths. If they capitulated to the French to preserve themselves and their families, he said, he would never hold it against them, nor consider them anything less than perfectly faithful. There was then a sorrowful farewell, with, as Costa wrote, "tears shed as much for the fate of their beloved country as for a regretful parting from dear comrades." There was no time for a drawn-out goodbye, however, as much still had to be done, and the French were on the move.

    Just as he had released his cabinet of their oaths, he did the same for his troops. Some indeed abandoned the army and returned to their homes or surrendered to the French. Many, however, chose to remain with the king. Even some eighty men of the Foreign Regiment stayed on—some were deserters who feared for their necks if they fell into the hands of the French or Genoese, but others were legitimately dedicated to the king and refused to abandon him. It was a testament to his personal charisma that even in the face of total defeat, the king was able to set out from Corti with a volunteer regiment of nearly 300 soldiers. Before leaving, they gathered all the donkeys and mules that were ready for travel and burdened them with muskets, pistols, gunpowder, bullets, and other military supplies; it was as much a supply caravan as it was a regiment. Cannon, however, was quite out of the question. To take even a few guns over the mountains was a major undertaking which the royalists did not now have the time or resources to attempt. The most valuable part of the syndicate fleet's cargo would have to remain in Corti, where it would likely fall to the French. That could not be helped, but to avoid the French having the use of potentially valuable pack animals, all the beasts of burden in Corti that were not taken by Theodore's men were slaughtered.

    The French encountered only sporadic resistance on the march south. Fabiani's men, who must have numbered fewer than two hundred, held back an attack at Omessa as promised, but he only managed to delay the French by a day before being forced to flee. On the 27th of April, five days after the Battle of Ponte Leccia, a French column under the Comte de Montmorency approached Corti. As the French drew near the town, however, they saw the Moor's Head flying defiantly from the citadel, and soon they were warned off by cannon-fire. Montmorency sent a party under a flag of truce to demand the surrender of the town. Count Gaffori appeared at the gate and gave his reply: He had no quarrel with the King of France or his officers, but Corti belonged to His Majesty the King of Corsica, and as podesta of Corti and Major-General in His Majesty's army he was obliged to defend the castle as long as he was able. If the French insisted upon its capture, he would have no choice but to oppose them with force.



    The Situation at the End of April 1740
    Blue: Franco-Genoese
    Red: Genoese
    Green: Royalist
    White: Unknown or neutral


    Footnotes
    [1] He was presumably referring to the first engagement of Pietralba, when Giannoni and the Rostino militia were put to flight by the French (an engagement which Giuseppe was late for), and the second when the royalist right gave way after the death of Lt. Col. Giudicelli, Giuseppe's second-in-command.

    Timeline Notes
    [A] What did you think this was, a Corsica-wank? ;)
     
    Last edited:
    In Extremis
  • In Extremis

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    The Citadel of Corti

    The outcome of the siege of Corti was never in doubt. Count Gianpietro Gaffori's garrison amounted to 73 men and one woman, his wife Faustina Gaffori (née Matra). They were heavily outnumbered, and even with severe rationing they had only enough food to hold out for a few weeks. No relief was expected; King Theodore had departed for the Dila with his volunteers, and the only other royalist commanders with forces active in the Diqua, Count Andrea Ceccaldi and Johann Friedrich von Neuhoff zu Rauschenburg, were not in a position to break the siege. Ceccaldi had his hands full mounting a desperate defense of the Castagniccia, while Rauschenburg and his shepherd army did not have the strength to challenge the French directly.

    Corti’s defenders were, however, armed to the teeth. The men had ample powder and shot for their muskets, as well as hundreds of grenades and bombs. Gaffori had more artillery than he could possibly use, and enough gunpowder and cannonballs to pound a fortress into dust. The defenders feared to use some of the larger pieces, afraid that the shock of firing would damage the medieval fortress, but there were a number of middling and smaller guns that could be pressed into service. Gaffori’s main fear was a magazine explosion, as given the tons of powder in the citadel it would certainly annihilate the garrison and might well level the town, but for the moment there was no fear of bombardment as the French had no artillery of their own. Perched upon a high rocky prominence, the castle proved to be practically invulnerable to conventional assault. Brigadier Anne de Montmorency-Luxembourg, Comte de Montmorency attempted it early in the siege, but the French found the resistance so daunting that they broke off the attack before even reaching the gate. Shortly after Lieutenant-General Daniel François de Gélas, Vicomte de Lautrec arrived with reinforcements on the 3rd of May and took command of the siege, he ordered another attack, this time with a larger and better-equipped assault group and focused on the north where the walls were lowest. The French succeeded in storming some of the outlying fortifications, but as soon as they were in the northern courtyard they were mercilessly raked by fire from the citadel's parapet and forced to abandon their foothold. Clearly, until the food ran out, the French artillery arrived, or Gaffori chose to surrender, Corti would hold.

    Count Gaffori’s stated reason for defying the French was duty: He had been charged with the defense of the town by his king and would not disobey. Yet Chancellor Sebastiano Costa tells us that Theodore had explicitly released his officers, including Gaffori, from their oaths, and makes no mention of Gaffori being ordered to defend Corti from the French. Perhaps Gaffori was attempting to cover the king’s escape, as Theodore’s caravan had departed Corti only two days before the arrival of Brigadier Montmorency. Burdened with pack animals carrying arms and ammunition, they were not yet beyond the potential reach of the French. In retrospect, however, Lautrec might have been hard-pressed to manage it. With fewer than three thousand soldiers in the interior, he simply did not have the manpower to fight Ceccaldi in the Castagniccia, besiege Gaffori in Corti, protect his line of supply from Rauschenburg, maintain the occupation of various villages that had only just been pacified and might yet change their minds, and dispatch a whole battalion or more to chase after the fugitive king.

    More than this, however, Lautrec simply didn't care. While the Genoese desired the king’s head above all else and would stoop as low as necessary to get it, Lautrec was not particularly interested in the fate of the “Baron de Neuhoff” so long as he was not an obstacle to the suppression of the rebellion. The French policy towards Theodore was essentially the same as their policy towards the rest of the rebel leaders—they were free to go, just so long as they stayed gone. Most rebel commanders which fell into French hands, even those who had fought for years after Boissieux's first ultimatum, were offered freedom at the cost of exile. As far as is known, not one man turned down that offer, which was understandable given that the alternative was presumably either to be hanged at Bastia or taken back to Genoa to be publicly broken on the wheel. Gaffori, however, wanted a third way. He was determined to remain, and this too may have motivated him to make a stand at Corti.

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    The citadel parapet

    After the failure of his assault, Lautrec re-opened negotiations with Gaffori to see what the count wanted for the town’s surrender. Although all knew that Corti's position was ultimately hopeless, Lautrec had no way of knowing the state of Gaffori's food supply or exactly how many men he had. As the French had no interest in Gaffori, only in Corti, there was no reason not to treat with him if it could effect the faster and less costly capitulation of the town. Gaffori obliged him and responded with a list of demands: There would be a 10-day truce, after which he would surrender the castle to the French. He and his garrison would be afforded the honors of war. The foreigners would leave Corsica and receive French guarantees that they would be able to do so, but the natives would not be forced into exile. Finally, Gaffori demanded that Corti only be garrisoned by French troops and that no Genoese forces would be admitted into the town until the final withdrawal of French forces from the island.[A]

    This was a rather exorbitant list, particularly from a garrison commander whose chance of ultimate victory was approximately zero. Montmorency opined that it should be rejected if only for the demand of honors of war; rebels did not deserve to be treated like proper combatants. Lautrec, however, was conscious of his orders from Paris, which were to gain as strong a negotiating position as possible vis-a-vis the Austrians. Lautrec had already sent back orders for artillery to be brought up, but moving heavy French guns from Isola Rossa would take many days, and once they arrived there would be siege-works to dig so that the artillerymen could go to work on the castle while protected from Gaffori’s own guns. The castle was clearly an old construction and did not seem as if it would be exceedingly strong against cannon, but the French had no diagrams or detailed knowledge of the fort and could not be certain as to its vulnerability. The chances that the French would be able to move their guns from the coast to Corti, position them effectively, and sufficiently damage the castle as to force its capitulation within 10 days seemed remote. It may have helped matters that Gaffori seemed likely to be reliable—Lautrec knew by now that he was the son-in-law of Marquis Saviero Matra, who had been a steady collaborator with the French. The French had recently agreed to let Matra’s son Alerio Francesco return to Corsica, so allowing his son-in-law to remain had some precedent (and Marquis Matra may have been pressing for it). Lautrec respected Gaffori's appeal to duty and saw no real harm in humoring his demands. On the 7th, he gave Gaffori his assent, and the ten days of truce began.

    As promised, on May 17th Gaffori’s company opened the gates and came marching out double-file with their muskets on their shoulders, a fifer and drummer playing, and the Moor's Head flag unfurled. It was the first time such honors had ever been given to Corsican rebels. A French officer recorded that his enlisted comrades were amused by the rough appearance and mismatched civilian clothing of the Corsican “soldiers,” as well as the spectacle of Faustina marching proudly in the lead alongside her husband. After their symbolic procession, the rebels disarmed, and the French took command of the citadel. Lautrec established his own headquarters in the lieutenant’s house, which a few weeks before had been Theodore’s residence. On that same day, the general issued a proclamation to all Corsican leaders who remained in rebellion: They were to come immediately to Corti to make their submission, or abandon all hope of reconciliation with the French.

    The rebel commanders had generally ignored such demands in the past owing to the unacceptability of French terms, but now the situation was quite different. Corti had fallen, Gaffori had surrendered, and the king had fled south. There was no longer any hope of organized resistance in the Diqua, and it seemed to most that further fighting would only result in destruction and slaughter. Andrea Ceccaldi, surrounded with no hope of relief, replied with his acceptance of Lautrec’s terms and came to Corti to capitulate. He was shortly followed by Marquis Luigi Giafferi, Marquis Simone Fabiani, Count Marc-Antonio Giappiconi, and most of the other major leaders of the rebellion in the north. True to his word, and despite the raging of the Genoese, Lautrec granted them all clemency – at the cost of exile. The war in the north was effectively over, with one exception: of all the northern leaders, Rauschenburg alone refused the summons, and with his band of Niolesi resistance fighters would continue the struggle for months to come.

    Lautrec, and France, had triumphed. In an unfortunate twist of fate, however, the general’s accomplishment at Corti turned out to be partially in vain. On May 9th, a preliminary agreement was made between the Genoese, French, and Austrians as to the disposition of occupying forces in Corsica. Finalized on the 20th by the Second Convention of Turin, these terms stipulated that the Austrians would send up to 5,000 troops to pacify the rebellion and occupy the south of the country, excluding Ajaccio, Cinarca, and Vico (which were to remain in French hands) but including Fiumorbo, Aleria, the Tavignano, and – critically – Corti. While Lautrec’s capture of Corti had enabled him to subdue the Castagniccia without an invasion, itself no small feat, it had come too late to help the French negotiators. Word of the treaty's signature reached Lautrec less than a week after Gaffori's surrender. Theodore’s capital, having just been made Lautrec’s command post three days earlier, would now presumably have to be ceded to an Austrian garrison.[1]

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    The Pass of Sorba

    After their departure from Corti, Theodore’s party had moved south through the villages of Venaco and Vivario. Their greatest challenge was the Pass of Sorba, with an elevation of some 4,500 feet. Leading animals laden with weapons and supplies over this nearly trackless ridge was excruciatingly slow and difficult, and Theodore’s officers were continually afraid of an attack. The French forces they dreaded, however, never arrived, and on the 4th of May the king arrived in the village of Ghisoni. They were met there by the Zicavesi commander Carlo Lusinchi and a corps of militia from Fiumorbo and Zicavo. Theodore was gratified to hear that Carlo and his brother Milanino remained loyal, and they were not alone – Colonel Antonio Colonna-Bozzi and Lieutenant-Generals Michele Durazzo, Luca d’Ornano, and Theodore’s “nephew” Matthias von Drost still proclaimed loyalty to the crown. Between them, the royalists still controlled (optimistically) a few thousand militiamen in the south. Whether those commanders could really be trusted, however, was yet to be determined.

    As there was no sign of pursuit, Theodore decided to allow the men and animals of the column to rest at Ghisoni for two days. Lusinchi had assured the king that his position was, at least for the moment, secure; the valley could only be entered from the Diqua by the Pass of Sorba, which had already proven its difficulty, or the Defile of Inzecca, an extremely narrow canyon of the Fiumorbo which was nearly ideal terrain for a small force to hold back a larger one. Thereafter the column went at a more leisurely pace. The king's men crested the Pass of Verdi, on the great mountainous spine of Corsica between north and south, whereupon he gave a heartfelt address to his soldiers admitting the dire situation the nation now found itself in but assuring them that the struggle was not yet over and that he was prepared to give his all for the liberty of the people. Having been informed of the name of the pass, he pronounced it appropriate given the beauty of the green forests in the valleys to either side, and promised that he would remember those stalwart men who were at his side atop the Bocca di Verdi.[2]

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    Zicavo
    On the 12th of May, Theodore arrived at Zicavo. The mountainside town has often been compared to a Greek amphitheater, being a series of terraces looming above the fruitful Taravo valley. Theodore was immediately mobbed by the adoring locals upon his arrival. For various reasons, including the zeal of Zicavo’s curate in claiming that Theodore was sent by God to free the people from slavery and lead a holy war against the Genoese devils,[B] the king was much-beloved in Zicavo despite having never set foot in the upper Taravo valley in his entire four-year reign. The crowd sang hymns, the women offered him and his men flowers and sweets, and the men shot off muskets in celebration. After this impromptu procession, Theodore was fêted by the local notables, including Milanino Lusinchi, a former Venetian major, and Lieutenant-General Francesco Peretti, the commander of the pieve. Over a meal of trout, eels, fruit, and wine, the king, his hosts, and Chancellor Costa spoke of the war, politics, and strategy. Costa noted that the Zicavesi were confident in the impregnability of their valley, but that few of them had actually faced the French. Theodore, eager to make use of his southern lieutenants and cement their loyalty, handed out a few noble titles, disseminated guns and munitions among the Zicavesi militiamen, and made Milanino the new colonel of his “guard” (that is, the 300-strong volunteer force that comprised what remained of his regular forces). Although there were political motivations to this act, it was a wise choice from a military perspective – the Lusinchi brothers had been very successful in the south despite limited resources, and both had continental military and command experience as a consequence of rising to field officer rank in the Venetian army. Within a week of Theodore’s arrival, he was joined by Drost and Colonna-Bozzi, brothers-in-law since Drost’s marriage to Maria Rosa Colonna-Bozzi that winter. Also welcome were the militia they brought with them, around 250 men, as an attack by the French was still anticipated.

    Despite making preparations for a "last stand" in the Taravo valley and his promises to his ministers and the Zicavesi that he would fight to the last, it seems likely that Theodore was already planning his exit strategy. The king was no coward – that much had been proved in battle several times over – but he was clearly less enamored of “martyrdom” than the curate of Zicavo. Theodore was a survivor, and he intended to survive this war as well. Getting out, however, was going to be tricky. Although it seems likely that Lautrec would have offered Theodore the same exile as any other rebel leader, Theodore could not know this with perfect certainty. He understandably feared putting his fate entirely in the hands of the French, regardless of Lautrec’s past assurances; he was, after all, arguably responsible for the deaths of thousands of Frenchmen. For all he knew, Lautrec or his superiors might go back on their word once they had the man who had humiliated them at Ponte Novu in their clutches. If they should decide to take vengeance, or simply bow to Genoese diplomatic pressure and had him over, no power on earth could save him from a grisly execution. To escape Corsica without placing himself into French custody, however, required a private craft, and since the nationals controlled no ports that in turn required getting a message out to a trustworthy captain willing to meet him at some lonely stretch of Corsican coastline. Although cheered by friends and loyal followers in his picturesque mountain retreat, the seemingly insurmountable difficulty of such an exit must have weighed heavily upon the king.

    The events of late May changed everything. The news of Corti’s fall, while expected, was nevertheless a hard blow for Theodore and his followers. Just as predictable, but far more demoralizing, was the surrender of most of Theodore’s key generals and lieutenants in the north. Theodore had released them from their oaths and encouraged them to capitulate if left with no options, but the king’s men must have at least hoped that Ceccaldi would carry on the fight for a while longer, and perhaps even defy the impossible odds against him given his high martial reputation. Rauschenburg’s continued struggle in the high mountains was a rather poor consolation for such news. Soon after, however, Theodore received a third bit of news – the signing of the Second Convention of Milan and the announcement of the impending landing of Austrian forces.

    Costa and the rebel commanders at Zicavo initially saw this as merely compounding their present disaster. After the collapse of the resistance in the north, it was difficult enough to imagine victory against the French. How could the nationals possibly fight the emperor as well? Only Theodore was pleased – indeed, he was positively delighted, and to the bewilderment of his Zicavesi hosts the king raised his glass in a toast to Emperor Karl VI as soon as he received the news. A rumor circulated among the Corsicans that Theodore had some secret pact with the emperor, and Theodore may have encouraged the rumor. If the king's optimism was not merely feigned, however, it may have been because he saw the Austrians as a party more amenable to negotiations, particularly for his own escape. He had not yet stained the honor of Vienna as he had Paris, and his contacts among the Austrians were arguably better than those with the French. Theodore – who correctly ascertained Vienna’s fear of growing French power – may have believed he was capable of effecting his own flight by playing one antagonist against the other.

    The implications of the Austrian intervention – and the resulting division of the island between French and Austrian zones of control – were greater than either Theodore or the Corsicans first realized. As the rebels eventually discovered, there was no “secret pact” between Theodore and the empire, and the Austrian commander Otto Anton, Graf von Walsegg soon demonstrated that he had every intention of fighting the rebels as Vienna had promised. Yet from the start, the clarity of purpose of Vienna’s intervention would be clouded by the influence of Grand Duke Franz Stefan with some help from the Austrian commander in Livorno, Karl Franz, Freiherr von Wachtendonk. The emperor himself had no interest in the rebels, desiring only to reassert Austrian power and satisfy his British allies by denying the French the run of Corsica. His son-in-law, however, still fancied using the rebellion to gain the island for himself – and for the rebellion to be of any use, it had to continue to exist.


    Corsica in late May 1740
    Green: Royalist controlled
    Red: Genoese controlled
    Blue: Franco-Genoese controlled
    White: Unknown or neutral

    Footnotes
    [1] Whether an earlier capture of Corti would have changed these terms is unknown. While the French did believe that the town’s capture would improve their position, the consistently maintained negotiating position of the Austrians was that they should hold Corti in exchange for the French occupation of Ajaccio.
    [2] Bocca being the Corsican word for a pass. In Standard Italian the word for a pass is passo, while bocca means “mouth.”

    Timeline Notes
    [A] The Corsicans succeeded in gaining similar terms, at least with regards to the "French-only" occupation of Corti, in 1749. The 10-day truce prior to capitulation is similar to terms granted by Gaffori to the Genose defenders in 1746. Thus, while these are pretty generous terms, they're not historically unprecedented and there's really no reason for the French not to agree to them, particularly as Lautrec's position in the interior is still a bit touchy.
    [B] There was, in fact, a notorious curate of Zicavo who was rabidly pro-Theodore; unfortunately, he seems to be only known as “the Curate of Zicavo” and I have not yet found his name. The curate was one of a number of Corsican religious leaders who preached armed struggle with inducements redolent of the promises made to crusaders or mujahideen: that the mere act of killing a Genoese would absolve a man of his sins, and that death in the struggle was an act of martyrdom that would win a man his place in paradise.
     
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    The Austrians Arrive
  • The Austrians Arrive

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    Imperial German Regiment "Deutschmeister" in 1740


    On June 4th, Feldmarschall-Lieutenant Otto Anton, Graf von Walsegg disembarked at Porto Vecchio with three battalions of infantry. On the 7th, the Austrians had their first taste of combat, with Walsegg's battalions driving out a group of militia from La Rocca who menaced the village of Ferruccio just a few miles from the port. The performance of this small royalist band was unimpressive, but Walsegg chose to not immediately press inland. Probably under instructions from Vienna, he determined that the assertion of Austrian rights in the north, particularly Aleria and Corti, had the highest priority. Correspondingly, on the 9th he detached a battalion under Obrist-Kommandant Anton, Graf von Colloredo-Melz und Wallsee, to proceed north to Aleria and then inland along the Tavignano to relieve the French occupying forces at Corti.[1]

    The Corsicans did not offer resistance to Colloredo in Fiumorbo, and he was allowed to pass unmolested to Aleria. From there he was in more or less "friendly" territory, and proceeded swiftly to Corti, reaching the town on the 15th. Although undoubtedly annoyed at having to return his conquest, Lieutenant-General Daniel François de Gélas, Vicomte de Lautrec was ready to respect his country's diplomatic agreements. More upset than Lautrec was Gianpietro Gaffori, who in the few weeks since his capitulation had been living a rather quiet life of a collaborator in French-occupied Corti. Gaffori had managed to gain very generous terms from the French in exchange for his capitulation, most critically the exclusion of Genoese forces from the town. He was not pleased to hear that the French would be handing the town and its citadel over, quite without his input, to the Austrians, who had not given him any such guarantees.

    As it turned out, however, Count Colloredo was quite willing to indulge him. The young colonel, at time 32 years of age, was a fine officer but somewhat out of his element in the middle of highland Corsica. Although was initially suspicious of Gaffori and dismissive of the rough natives of the country, Gaffori worked to make himself indispensable, assisting Colloredo with billeting and provisioning the garrison while managing the civilian administration of the town in his capacity as podesta. Colloredo quickly came to appreciate his efficiency, and for the time being at least was persuaded by Gaffori’s argument that the introduction of Genoese troops into Corti would only make the Austrians less secure by encouraging civil unrest. Gaffori, who restricted himself to the management of civilian affairs beneath the notice of a military commandant, was much less threatening to Colloredo’s position than a Genoese officer who would presumably try to assert his own government’s prerogatives over the town.

    The transfer of Corti also meant the transfer of a considerable arsenal. Although many guns had been left behind during the retreat in the interior, particularly the lion’s share of the heavier 24-pounders, Lautrec was still stunned by the number of guns the rebels still possessed. Following the capitulation, he inventoried a total of 29 guns, as follows:[2]
    • Four 24-pounders
    • Two 18-pounders
    • Fifteen 12-pounders
    • Two 8-pounders
    • Two 6-pounders
    • Four 4-pounders
    Three weeks later, at the time of the Austrian arrival, most of these guns were still at Corti. By agreement, the French were required to turn over all surrendered arms to the Genoese, so there was no question of France profiting from the confiscation. Lautrec was furthermore facing a shortage of manpower, animals, and supplies. His forces were fully engaged holding territory, mopping up remaining rebel enclaves in the west, and dealing with the guerrilla forces of Lieutenant-General Johann Friedrich von Neuhoff zu Rauschenburg. There was a dearth of pack animals, and in fact Lautrec had already requested the return of the hussars to France because of problems finding enough forage. Thus, for reasons of motivation, logistics, distraction, and time constraints, only eleven guns—about a third of the Corti arsenal—had been removed by the 15th (along with an unknown amount of powder, shot, and so on). As the Austrians were also in principle obligated to return confiscated arms to the Genoese, the French presumably did not consider them a strategic asset to keep out of imperial hands. With only a single battalion to protect Corti and the whole Tavignano valley, however, Colloredo was even more logisically limited than the French, and for the moment the remainder of the arsenal wasn’t going anywhere.


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    The Scala di Santa Regina. In 1740, of course, the paved road did not exist, and the narrow path which can be seen just above it was the only means of ascending the valley.
    Despite the collapse of the rebellion in the north, the fight was clearly not yet out of the Corsican nationals. On May 2nd, two days before Walsegg's arrival, a battalion-sized force of Frenchmen attempted to force their way into the Niolo by way of the Scala di Santa Regina, a long, winding ravine of the upper Golo, traversable only by an ancient and narrow shepherd's path cut into the rock. In the ensuing "Battle of the Stair," the French column was ambushed by a smaller number of Niolesi mountaineers—perhaps just a few dozen—and completely defeated, suffering more than 60 casualties while Rauschenburg claimed he had lost only two men. Advancing up the canyon in a single-file line, they had been easy targets for Niolesi sharpshooters in elevated positions, and the Corsicans were also said to have tumbled rocks down the ravine, sending them careening into the thin white line of soldiers below. Major de Villarois, the second-in-command of the expedition, was shot in the chest and killed. Clearly the French could not force an entry into Rauschenburg's mountain fastness from that direction, and their efforts soon concentrated on the conquest of Vico and the northwest Dila.

    Although rugged, this region was thinly populated and not especially zealous in its support for the rebel movement. With the withdrawal of Antonio Colonna-Bozzi and Matthias von Drost to Zicavo, the only rebel commander of note in the region was Lieutenant-General Luca d'Ornano. He had received Lautrec's demands following the surrender of Corti and had no desire to be the last holdout against the French, who seemed destined to be the victors in the struggle. Like Gaffori, however, he also had no interest in leaving the country. Having heard rumors of Gaffori's deal with Lautrec, Marquis d'Ornano was now angling for a similar deal. Instead of immediately showing up at Corti to submit himself, the marquis sent a messenger offering to hand over all the Dila in exchange for some "modest considerations" like those given to Gaffori. In the meantime he pulled his militiamen back from the Franco-Genoese holdings on the coast as a gesture of good will. Despite his failure to appear in person as demanded, Lautrec was open to compromise, but what seemed like a probable capitulation was abruptly deferred by the arrival of the Austrians.

    The Second Convention of Turin had not been particularly precise as to the line of delineation in Corsica. At the time, it had not seemed necessary, as the French and the Austrians were concerned mainly for the major strategic sites of the island—that is to say its ports, plus Corti—and cared little for which rustic village was possessed by whom. D'Ornano, however, occupied an ambiguous position between the two spheres of influence. His homeland, the pieve of Ornano, lay south of Ajaccio and was clearly within the Dila granted to the Austrians, but forces under his overall command also occupied Vico and Cinarca, which had been given explicitly to the French. The disposition of the valley of the Gravona, which ran northeast from the Bay of Ajaccio towards Corti and divided Cinarca from Ornano, was not altogether clear. Of course d’Ornano was not privy to the terms of the treaty, but he did take notice of the arrival of the Austrians at Porto Vecchio, and rumor soon spread that the Austrians were now to be in charge of the Dila. It now occurred to d'Ornano that his position had become one of great significance, and that he might get even better terms from the Austrians than from the French, or might at least use that threat to get a better deal from Lautrec.

    Accordingly, d'Ornano at last decided to come to Corti, albeit days after the town had been turned over to the Austrians. Count Colloredo felt ill-equipped to lay down conditions on behalf of the empire, not at least until he had conferred with Walsegg, but since he had no ability to remove d'Ornano from his territory to the southwest it was sensible to pacify him with favorable (if vague) assurances regarding terms of cooperation with the Empire. D’Ornano’s demands were more far-reaching than those of Gaffori - in particular, he wanted not only to remain, but to remain armed. The marquis lamented that it would be quite impossible to disarm his followers, and that the French demands that he do so had been ill-conceived and unjust; how, indeed, would he defend his home from bandits and rebels? Again, Colloredo voiced his sympathy and understanding but remained noncommittal, for disarming d’Ornano was quite beyond his power and there was no reason to make ultimatums that could not be enforced. D’Ornano left Corti considering his mission to have been a success. Nevertheless, he could not ignore the French completely, and as the French battalions advanced from Calvi into the northwest Dila in June the marquis was obliged to accept the loss of Vico and Cinarca, aware that he would receive no imperial support in keeping those territories.

    Despite using the royalists as a bogeyman in his talks with Colloredo, d'Ornano was not fully severed from the King of Corsica. Theodore had sent him a letter after arriving at Zicavo requesting that he send men to aid the king, and while d’Ornano had failed to send the men—explaining, perhaps reasonably, that he could not further strip his defenses with the French still on his doorstep—he did assure Theodore of his fidelity and promised that he would not submit to the Republic or disarm his militia without royal approval. The value of that pledge, however, was questionable, as it implied no obligation to materially aid his sovereign and did not prevent him from submitting to the French or Austrians. Theodore was probably not impressed, but he continued to address d'Ornano as his loyal marquis, as even the bare profession of loyalty by such a man as d'Ornano made the rebellion seem stronger and more united than it actually was.

    Walsegg, subsequently informed of d’Ornano’s approach, initially responded with little enthusiasm. Like Colloredo, he recognized that there was no sense in antagonizing d’Ornano at the moment, but he was disinclined by nature to treat with rebels and may have questioned the legitimacy of d'Ornano's supposed willingness to make himself an imperial asset. What reached Walsegg, however, inevitably reached Grand Duke Franz Stefan, because Walsegg’s command was thoroughly penetrated by the Grand Duke’s spies. One of the units deployed to Corsica was the Wachtendonk regiment, named (as was custom) after its Obrist-Inhaber, the very same Feldmarschall-Lieutenant Karl Franz von Wachtendonk who presently commanded Austrian forces at Livorno and dutifully spun intrigues with the Corsicans and English for the benefit of the Grand Duke. Some of his officers—and they were his officers, being the proprietor of the regiment—undoubtedly did double duty as Walsegg's soldiers and Wachtendonk's agents. But the Grand Duke could lean on Walsegg directly as well, for while Walsegg was loyal to the emperor he could hardly afford to ignore the emperor’s son-in-law. Aware that scorning Franz Stefan was probably not a good career move, Walsegg thus found himself in the sometimes difficult position of balancing his orders from Vienna with his “advice” from the Grand Duke.


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    Franz Stefan von Lothringen, Grand Duke of Tuscany

    The Grand Duke clearly saw d'Ornano as a potential recruit. The marquis had been in Campredon’s “French party” before Theodore’s arrival, but he was hardly committed to France. The Grand Duke’s men soon opened communications with him directly, and d’Ornano was not shy about hinting at his prestigious contacts with an “imperial prince.” Walsegg was reportedly dismayed to find such diplomacy being carried out without his input, but as a military man rather than a politician he felt obliged to keep his head down and concentrate on his task. With the arrival of two more battalions in the second half of June, Walsegg now felt ready to confront the rebels properly.

    It could not have come at a better time for the Genoese. Realizing that Walsegg was not on the verge of an attack and confident in the security of Zicavo for the time being, Antonio Colonna-Bozzi had marched south with 300 men to assist Lieutenant-General Michele Durazzo, who was struggling to maintain his control of Sartena against the Genoese regulars in Propriano. The rebels in the south had been bested the last time they had engaged the Genoese in the field, but the Genoese had since grown overconfident while the royalists now had Colonna and some of the king’s “elite” volunteers. On the 17th of June, Colonna, Durazzo, and a mixed force of regulars and militia caught the Genoese forces besieging Sartena with a surprise attack, completely routing the entire battalion and inflicting heavy casualties. Now Propriano itself seemed to be in danger, for though the rebels had no artillery the village was not heavily fortified. Austrian aid was needed.

    On the 20th, Walsegg set out from Porto Vecchio with two battalions of the Wachtendonk and Gyulai infantry, plus a few companies of Genoese and some filogenovesi irregulars to act as guides. The plan was to cross the Pass of Bacino and move westwards along the ridge of hills between the Fiumicicoli and Ortolo rivers directly to Sartena. By avoiding following the river valleys themselves, Walsegg hoped to reach Sartena more directly and avoid being caught in an ambush at the bottom of a valley. This worked as well as could be expected, and on the 23rd the Austrians reached Foce, a village on the highest crest of the ridge just two miles from Sartena. They skirmished with Corsican forces there, who succeeded in delaying Walsegg's advance by a day but fell back in the face of superior numbers. With Walsegg in a strong position on the ridgetop and with their flank exposed to the Genoese still at Propriano, Colonna and Durazzo doubted they could hold the town. On the 26th of June, after some desultory fighting around the town, the royalist forces withdrew and Walsegg captured Sartena.

    Walsegg's swift and decisive advance had lifted the siege of Propriano and captured the largest town still in rebel hands. Within a week of this victory, the rebellion had been all but suppressed in the Ortolo valley in the south. It was certainly a better debut in Corsica than Boissieux, whose maiden foray had been getting his army mauled at Madonna della Serra. The Corsicans had withdrawn rather than face the Austrians in open battle, putting their hopes in the rougher inland terrain of the Dila, but they could not withdraw eternally—there was only so much Corsica left.



    Situation in Late June 1740
    Green: Royalist nationals
    Red: Genoese
    Blue: Franco-Genoese
    Yellow: Austro-Genoese
    Dark Green: "Ornanist" nationals
    White: Neutral or Unknown
    Red Line: Walsegg's march to Sartena

    Footnotes
    [1] A Feldmarschall-Lieutenant (abbr. FML) was roughly equivalent to a Lieutenant-General. Obrist-Kommandant is usually translated as “commanding colonel” and was the rank of the man who actually led the regiment, as opposed to his nominal superior, the Obrist-Inhaber (“colonel proprietor”), who owned the regiment and might take an interest in its staffing and upkeep but generally did not lead it personally. British and French regiments were also often “owned” by an absentee colonel, but in that case it was the lieutenant-colonel rather than a “commanding colonel” who led the regiment. In the case of the imperial infantry regiment Deutschmeister, in which Count Colloredo held the post of Obrist-Kommandant, the ownership of the regiment was an ex officio honor of the reigning Grandmaster of the Teutonic Order, at that time Prince Clemens August von Wittelsbach, Archbishop and Elector of Cologne.
    [2] The inventory does not tell the full story of how varied the rebel artillery was. The rebels had obtained their guns from many different sources; this is why some were on the French scale (4-8-12) and some on the British (3-6-9-12). Some were iron, others bronze, and with varying bore/chamber types. In addition, since the value of a pound as a measure of weight varied between countries, even the “common” caliber guns like the 12 and 24 pounders actually had varying ammunition sizes. It must have been a logistical nightmare to find the correct ammunition for each gun.
     
    Aid and Comfort
  • Aid and Comfort

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    The Port of Livorno, late 18th century
    The leaders of the rebellion who had been exiled by the French did not merely vanish. Some, particularly a few of the more military-minded ones, went to Naples. King Carlos VII of Naples[1] had an interest in expanding the fledgling Neapolitan army with regiments of “warlike” foreigners; a few years previously he had authorized the creation of a “Royal Macedonian Regiment” of Greeks and Albanians, and following the collapse of the Corsican rebellion he decided to constitute a Corsican regiment as well. Despite their recent defeat, the famous victories of the Corsicans against the French at Madonna della Serra, San Pellegrino, Borgo, and Ponte Novu had reinforced their already-existing reputation for martial vigor. The new colonel of this regiment was none other than Theodore’s former prime minister and “general of the nation” Luigi Giafferi. At 72 years old he was not the most energetic commander, but the king was less interested in his military capabilities than the recruitment potential of his famous name, which still carried great weight among the Corsicans. Several other prominent leaders, including the brothers Clemente and Pasquale Paoli, followed him to Naples and gained positions in the new regiment.[A]

    The majority of the Corsican exiles, however, came to Livorno in Tuscany. Livorno had been a center of Corsican expatriate activity and smuggling to and from the island since the very beginning of the rebellion. The city was inclined to it by nature; the Genoese and Livornesi were commercial rivals, and any venture which promised to both turn a profit and humiliate Genoa was attractive to the merchants of Livorno. That would not have mattered, however, if the government was not also favorable. Gian Gastone, the last Medici grand duke, had favored Theodore and helped fund his venture. When he died in 1737, the Genoese had hoped for a crackdown from the new government, a viceroyalty ruling in the name of Franz Stefan, formerly the Duke of Lorraine. Franz Stefan, however, had interests of his own in Corsica, and his viceroy was the Grand Duke’s friend and former tutor Marc de Beauvau, Prince de Craon, an affable dullard whom Horace Walpole summarized as “a good-natured simple old man, poor and extravagant, loves piquet, the Princess, and baubles.” The Genoese did not get much use out of him.

    The man who actually ran the show in Livorno was Feldmarschall-Lieutenant Karl Franz, Freiherr von Wachtendonk, the initial commander of the first Austrian intervention in Corsica (1731-2) and a distant relation of Theodore. Wachtendonk’s position was politically and legally ambiguous. He commanded the garrison in a Tuscan city, but he was an imperial army officer who reported not to Craon’s viceregal court in Florence but to the Hofkreigsrat (the Aulic War Council) in Vienna. His charge was in theory an army, not a city, but because of the strategic importance of Livorno and the difficulty of separating civic and military matters he exercised a quasi-gubernatorial authority. The result, as the Genoese found, was that he was totally unaccountable. Craon had neither the authority nor the force of will to compel Wachtendonk to do anything, while distant Vienna was of no more help. Appeals directly to Wachtendonk were either ignored or answered with vague promises which never materialized. While not personally invested in the Corsican struggle, Wachtendonk was apparently all too ready to turn a blind eye to the exiles, and even to smugglers, so long as it pleased the Grand Duke.[2] The Genoese were appalled, and their consul complained to his government that Livorno was full of Corsicans “accustomed to all sorts of crimes.”

    This protection encouraged some of the rebellion's leading figures to take shelter there. Fabiani, Ceccaldi, and Giappiconi were all present, and were supported financially by the pre-existing "royalist" network in Livorno and Theodore's loyal henchman Francesco dell'Agata, the Florentine merchant who handed much of the rebellion's financial dealings in Tuscany. The rebel leaders were alleged to have met regularly not only with one another, but with various foreign agents, merchants with syndicate affiliations, Wachtendonk himself, and ambassador Horace Mann, the long-serving British minister to the Grand Duchy. Their position was not without danger, for the Genoese were well known employers of assassins and kidnappers, and Genoese spies were constantly trying to keep tabs on the rebels and their foreign contacts. As long as the Corsicans kept their dealings discreet, however, the local authorities (that is, soldiers of the Austrian garrison on police duty) left them alone. Wild rumors of the fruits of their conspiracies abounded—in June, a Genoese diplomat wrote of a widespread rumor in Florence that a shipment of "fifteen thousand muskets" was being prepared for the rebels in Germany.

    All this might sound like the ferment of an ingenious conspiracy by the Grand Duke and his minions; the Genoese and French certainly began to suspect as much. With Franz Stefan, however, there was always less than met the eye. The problem was that despite his interest in a royal crown, the Grand Duke was insufficiently committed to the cause. As an absentee monarch who only ever visited Tuscany once at the inauguration of his reign, Franz Stefan acted exclusively through agents to whom he gave little direction and few resources. His earlier use of the hapless Humbert de Beaujeu, a sort of counterfeit-Theodore presently languishing in a Viennese prison, was a case in point—the Grand Duke had recruited this unsavory character in secret, promised him a lifelong viceroyalty of the island, and instructed him to raise the island in rebellion with the aid of a considerable stipend which was nevertheless wholly inadequate to the task at hand. His diplomatic schemes went nowhere—tentative offers to buy the island from Genoa appear to have failed because the Genoese did not trust his credit, and even if they had it is unlikely he would have followed through, as another proposal to trade Corsica for Tuscan Lunigiana appears to have collapsed because the Grand Duke was not willing to sacrifice anything of real value for what he wanted. The penniless Theodore had delivered muskets, gunpowder, shoes, food, and even artillery to Corsica by the shipload, but the Grand Duke of Tuscany and son-in-law of the emperor was seemingly unwilling to send anything more than promises, platitudes, and dubious agents on a shoestring budget. The Grand Duke now wooed Corsican elites by making a modestly comfortable exile for them in Livorno, and even took an interest in d'Ornano, whom he imagined could be turned into a loyal partisan by indulging his requests, but he had no concrete plan to turn the goodwill of particular Corsicans into a pro-Lorrainer revolution. He seems to have been convinced that if the Corsicans only liked him enough they would spontaneously rise up, overthrow the Genoese, and call in one voice for Francesco Stephano di Lorena to be their king.[3]

    Theodore, who was no stranger to confidence games, knew a mark when he saw one. Although details of their correspondence are somewhat thin, we know that by this time the baron and the grand duke had been in occasional contact for at least a year, and possibly quite a bit longer. Franz Stefan had originally seen Theodore as a rival, a minor nuisance who needed to be brushed out of the way before the rebellion could be turned to his own advantage, which was why Humbert de Beaujeu had been dispatched after Theodore's flight to Amsterdam. Theodore, however, was not a man to stand on pride, and eventually appealed to the Grand Duke by implying that he would be ready to lay down the mantle of king in exchange for a high position, perhaps as viceroy, the same grand promise which the Grand Duke had been quite willing to make to Beaujeu. The Grand Duke soon warmed to him, and it is plausible, although not definitely proven, that Theodore himself had a hand in the Austrian intervention by privately pressing Franz Stefan to use his influence in Vienna to make it happen.

    Both Theodore and Franz Stefan believed they were using the other. Theodore, however, was clearly the more clever of the two. According to Theodore's private secretary Denis Richard, d'Ornano's outreach to the Austrians was no secret to Theodore because Franz Stefan himself, or at least his intermediary, had told Theodore about it—since Theodore was already presumed to be in the Grand Duke's camp, there was no harm in telling him about a new conspirator won over to the cause. Desiring to keep his Corsican dealings a secret and allergic to large expenditures of his own money, the Grand Duke would not be sending great shiploads of arms to Corsica, but he does appear to have channeled some funds to dell'Agata and other sympathetic financiers which was used to support the rebel exiles in Livorno and probably found its way into the smuggling business as well. He also gifted Theodore with his rather facile advice, advising him to "maintain the confidence of his men" and suggesting that he seek British aid, as if a renegade baron had better diplomatic contacts than the Grand Duke of Tuscany.

    Such advice was no help to Theodore, who had been trying to attract British aid for years, but it did give him an idea. In a letter to the Grand Duke, he praised his "inspired" notion of appealing to the British and made a proposal: if he could be smuggled out of the country with the Grand Duke's aid, he could make his way to London and prevail upon the government of that country to support the Corsicans more directly. He mentioned his many contacts in Amsterdam and London, and even suggested that he had a ready means of gaining a royal audience through Amalie von Wallmoden, the favored mistress of King George II, who was in fact Theodore's cousin. This was Franz Stefan's favorite kind of scheme—that is to say, inexpensive and designed by others—and he readily agreed to arrange for Theodore's transport. At last, the king had found his exit strategy.

    Despite growing Genoese alarm at the complicity of the Grand Duke's government in Corsican schemes, the Republic did not yet have much to complain about with regards to Austrian activity on Corsica. The Sartena expedition of Feldmarschall-Lieutenant Otto Anton, Graf von Walsegg had been a clear success, and the rebels were on the run. Next Walsegg asserted his control over the valley of the Rizzanese, forcing Lieutenant-General Michele Durazzo to retreat into the Alta Rocca. Once there, however, the relatively small number of Walsegg's forces began to tell. With only about 2,000 men in the theater divided between garrisons in Porto Vecchio, Sartena, Propriano, Carbini, and other strategic points, holding Alta Rocca was troublesome, and Durazzo could be reinforced and resupplied from Zicavo over the Pass of La Vaccia. A confrontation near Livia inflicted a few dozen casualties on each side, and the Austrians were forced to pull back from an overly ambitious march against Zonza when confronted by a numerically superior royalist force. Then there was an uprising in Istria, northwest of Propriano, in which the rebels seized Olmeto on a hill just across the bay and had to be driven out by a concerted Austro-Genoese offensive. Walsegg wrote to his superiors asking for more troops, as the Hofkriegsrat had so far dispatched only about half of the 5,000 troops which the Genoese and Austrians had agreed to.

    Walsegg, deciding to try and make some use of d'Ornano, requested the support of his militiamen in Istria. After some delay, d'Ornano obliged him, but did not actually fight his fellow Corsicans—he merely assumed control of the pieve and allowed the royalist forces to withdraw up the valley, leaving it still unclear if he was actually an Austrian client or merely playing one. The result was to Walsegg's advantage, as the attacks from this direction now stopped, but very quickly he was met by the outrage of the Genoese who were scandalized by the notion that Walsegg was treating a notorious rebel as an imperial auxiliary, even an ally. The general was compelled to officially disavow any arrangement with the marquis, despite the fact that he knew d'Ornano to be in communication with the Grand Duke's men, and demanded that he vacate Istria after requesting his occupation of it only days before. Confident in the proffered protection of the Grand Duke, d'Ornano gave empty assurances to the general but remained right where he was, and made no serious attempt to interdict the movement of royalist soldiers or supplies through the region. For the moment, there was nothing Walsegg could do to force him out.


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    Lake Nino on the Camputile Plateau

    The situation in the north was considerably more grim. In June, the last rebel activity in the Castagniccia finally ended—the surrender of Ceccaldi had ended organized resistance, but a few small bands had continued the fight as outlaws in true Corsican tradition—and the conquest of the western valleys meant that General Rauschenburg was totally encircled in the Niolo. On July 8th, two battalions under Brigadier Jean de Saignard, Sieur de Sasselange stormed the Pass of Vergio despite heavy resistance, breaching Rauschenburg's mountain fortress. Once more Rauschenburg and his dwindling band of men were forced to flee, this time over the Plateau of Camputile, a treeless alpine shelf 6,000 feet above sea level. Sporadic resistance continued for a few days in the eastern Niolo at Albertacce, but the French quickly took the wind out of the sails of the remaining malcontents by harsh reprisals, including summarily hanging suspected rebels from the boughs of their chestnut trees. Rauschenburg was not yet defeated, but he was forced to retreat to the nearly uninhabited gorges of the upper Tavignano and Restonico, where hunger was a more pressing enemy than the French.

    Theodore was not about to slink off in the night. Some may fault him for breaking his promise to remain until the last extremity, and perhaps some Corsicans did. He was not, however, abandoning the struggle. At certain points during the rebellion—before the French arrival, after the Syndicate fleet's arrival, after Ponte Novu—it seemed possible to think that the Corsicans might just win their independence on their own. In the present circumstances, however, it was clear to him that his quest was impossible without stronger foreign support, and his chances of gaining that support while residing in Zicavo were negligible. He was arguably more useful to the rebellion on the continent—or, better yet, in England—than on Corsica, where he remained largely idle while men like Drost and Colonna fought delaying actions on his behalf.

    With the Grand Duke's letters in hand, therefore, he announced his plan to his remaining ministers and advisors. They were dismayed to hear it, but according to Sebastiano Costa most saw the wisdom in his words. No doubt those words were embellished somewhat for their benefit, sprinkled liberally with claims of the Grand Duke's support, generous estimations of how much cash and arms the Syndicate was prepared to send back with him to renew the fight, and assurances that his royal audience in London was already a done deal. A modern reader might question whether the Corsicans believed any of this, but it scarcely mattered. Whom else would they put their faith in, if not Theodore?



    Situation in Mid-July 1740
    Green: Royalist nationals
    Red: Genoese
    Blue: Franco-Genoese
    Yellow: Austro-Genoese
    Dark Green: "Ornanist" nationals
    White: Neutral or Unknown

    Footnotes
    [1] Confusingly, because Sicily and Naples were for a time separate kingdoms, Carlos was technically Carlos VII of Naples but only Carlos V of Sicily.
    [2] Some have conjectured that Wachtendonk’s toleration was due to his alleged kinship with Theodore. This alone seems insufficient, as they were not particularly closely related, but certainly it would have given Theodore an opening to approach Wachtendonk. It has been theorized, but not actually proven, that Theodore and Wachtendonk were in communication in 1732 during the Prisoners of Savona affair, which was a personal humiliation to Wachtendonk and something that may have turned him against the Genoese. Alternatively, the general may simply have acted in the way he did because the Grand Duke encouraged it, and Wachtendonk lost nothing (and perhaps stood to benefit his career) by humoring the man who would eventually be king-consort and probably emperor. These explanations, of course, are not mutually exclusive.
    [3] Had Franz Stefan actually become their king, one expects they would have come to regret it. The incompetence and arrogance of his viceregal administration in Tuscany was already well known in 1739, when a French traveler opined that "the Tuscans would give two-thirds of their property to have the Medici back, and the other third to get rid of the Lorrainers. They hate them as the Milanese hate the Piedmontese. The Lorrainers ill-use, and what is worse, despise them." But this mattered not at all to Franz Stefan, who thought nothing of Tuscany and would have concerned himself even less with Corsica. Having acquired its crown, it seems not too much of an exaggeration to say that he would not have been greatly troubled if the island sank into the sea thereafter.

    Timeline Notes
    [A] As OTL, although slightly later than OTL. Giafferi did indeed receive the colonelcy of the new Neapolitan regiment of Corsicans and the Paoli family (which included Giacinto Paoli, their father, who died in 1736 ITTL) served as officers in this unit.
     
    The King's Portrait
  • It's been a busy week at work, but I'm hoping to have an update about Theodore's travels this weekend. The pace of the TL is also going to be picking up somewhat - the general European war is almost on top of us. In the meantime, I poked around in my notes and found a post you might enjoy. Certainly Theodore was an interesting character, but what did he look like?

    The King's Portrait

    I mentioned a royally commissioned portrait of Theodore in the notes of an earlier chapter. As a matter of fact, we still have that portrait, or at least a print of the engraving made of the original painting. It resides today in the British Museum. While there are a number of 18th century illustrations of Theodore, some of which I've posted in this thread, this is the only surviving portrait we know of which was actually made in Theodore's presence (assuming it is indeed a reproduction of the Gaetan painting as it claims to be). To my knowledge Theodore never sat for a portrait elsewhere, or at least no such portrait survives. Thus, although I can't say for certain that this is an accurate picture of Theodore, it seems the most likely to be an accurate picture of all contemporary illustrations which we have, keeping in mind the tendency of 18th century portraits to sometimes be less than photorealistic.


    (click to enlarge)​

    The text at the bottom reads "Taken from the Life (by Order of the Neapolitan Majesty) while under confinement in the Castle of Gaeta." The scene below the portrait appears to show a fanciful/allegorical scene of his coronation, with a woman in chains handing Theodore a crown. A panorama of Gaeta lies below that. My favorite detail, however, is the arms of Genoa and France lying like spoils of war at the bottom of the frame!

    I've mentioned that Theodore was widely described as handsome, but we do have one particular account of him that stands out in its detail. Someone, we know not who, sent the Genoese an anonymous letter giving a close description of Theodore, presumably to aid in his capture. I don't have the exact text, but one modern author has paraphrased the letter's description of Theodore as follows:

    Tall, robust, and handsome, with slim legs, small hands, reddish blond hair and eyebrows, and a fine nose, but he is tanned by the sun and has some slight pockmarks, large nostrils, and teeth blackened toward the gums by taking Spanish tobacco... [he] possesses three different wigs, one long, one short, and one with a pigtail, as well as two scarlet coats in the French style, one of them with frogging on the sleeves and the other with a green silk lining, and two waistcoats, one being of crimson velvet and the other of very old brocade. He is very fond of red, for he has a long Turkish robe of that hue, trimmed with fur, which he wears indoors, with a red velvet, fur-lined cap. He also has a pale buff riding coat, worn with knee breeches, and a blue traveling coat with scarlet revers... [he] has only one sword, whose hilt is merely of silver, and one cane, its pommel silver likewise, if he has not by now sold them.

    Since the letter is anonymous, we can't be sure that the description is actually a firsthand account. It certainly seems like it, however, given the detail, and the particularities of his build and dress are fully consistent with other known firsthand accounts. Presumably only someone who had spent a significant amount of time with him in Corsica would know such details about his entire wardrobe. Because the source is presumed to be hostile to Theodore (or else why would they be giving a description of him to the Genoese), there is no reason to assume there was any exaggeration or "airbrushing" at work here, and the notice taken of various physical flaws like pock-marks and stained teeth further suggests that this might be a quite faithful description.

    Edit: All the portraits of Theodore I have can be found here.
     
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    The Royal Progress
  • The Royal Progress

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    Theodore of Corsica, mezzotint by Johann Jacob Haid, 1740


    On July 17th, 1740, Theodore von Neuhoff appeared at Sartena with a small entourage. He was riding upon a mule—there were no more horses—and accompanied by about a score of men, including his various household servants, some bodyguards, and his chancellor, Sebastiano Costa. The Austrian guards, quite astonished, took him at once to meet Feldmarschall-Lieutenant Otto Anton, Graf von Walsegg, who was in residence there. The general was not entirely sure what to make of Theodore, but clearly he knew something of his agreement with Grand Duke Franz Stefan, either because correspondence from the Grand Duke provided by Theodore or sent to Walsegg himself (or both). Walsegg received his guest courteously, and according to Costa addressed him as "excellency."

    Theodore's flight from the island held both attractions and dangers for Walsegg. Certainly the departure of the well-known "King of Corsica," widely credited on the continent with leading the Corsicans against immense odds for longer than anyone had imagined possible, was a boon for the quicker subjection of the island, and that was good for Walsegg both professionally and personally (as he communicated his clear dislike of the posting in several letters). Like his French counterpart, Walsegg was not particularly interested in what became of Theodore so long as he could be removed from the stage. Giving Theodore passage off the island, however, would surely enrage the Genoese, and Walsegg was wary of doing that. He had given no great thought to the Republic's attitude upon his landing, but the worrying maneuvers of the Grand Duke, the surprisingly good relationship between his own officer Obrist-Kommandant Anton, Graf von Colloredo-Melz und Wallsee and Count Gianpietro Gaffori, and Walsegg's own flirtation with using Marquis Luca d'Ornano as an auxiliary had caused relations to deteriorate with alarming rapidity. Walsegg, with far fewer forces than the French, was even more dependent on the Genoese to hold territory and supply his men. It seemed prudent, therefore, to make no great fuss about the matter, and to extricate the Westphalian adventurer from Corsica as quickly and quietly as possible.

    "Quietly" proved impossible; the Genoese soon learned of Theodore's arrival in Sartene and sent word to Commissioner-General Domenico Maria Spinola, who had arrived on Corsica on the 1st of July to replace Giovan-Battista di Mari, recalled by the Senate in June. "Quickly," however, was easier to accomplish, and Walsegg wasted no time ushering the baron and his handful of followers to Porto Vecchio. A private vessel had to be chartered, as neither Austria nor Tuscany had a navy worth mentioning, and the imperial occupation force had disembarked on Genoese ships. A Livornesi barca-longa, however, was at hand, and its presence and willingness to take Walsegg's "cargo" without fuss may imply that the arrangements were made in advance. By the time Spinola had mustered a response to Walsegg, demanding that Theodore be remanded to the Republic, it was already too late. On the 26th of July, Theodore and his band arrived in the port of Livorno.

    Although teeming with Corsican expatriates and ruled by a friendly government, the city was hardly a safe haven. As soon as they realized he had slipped through their fingers in Corsica the Genoese focused their efforts on neutralizing him in Livorno, where their presence was significant. They did not limit themselves to diplomatic protests—there was still a substantial price on Theodore's head, and the Genoese agents were not averse to kidnapping or assassination when legal extradition was impossible. Theodore met briefly with his exiled generals and (according to the Genoese) was provided with mounts, food, and clothing by Feldmarschall-Lieutenant Karl Franz, Freiherr von Wachtendonk. He need not have, for Theodore was not hard up for money. His network of friends, contacts, relatives, and well-wishers spanned the continent, and he was well-provided for during his entire journey north. After a brief stay in Livorno, finding the danger too great, he had his followers spread rumors that he was traveling to Rome, while he absconded to the Pisan estate of an English merchant, Thomas Blackwell, who had provided Theodore with some financial support in the past and had acted as an intermediary between Theodore and certain Dutch bankers.

    Not all of Theodore's followers remained with him after leaving Corsica. Richard Denis, the king's private secretary, had always been something of a skeptic of his royal employer, and perceived Theodore's flight as the effective end of his quest. He remained behind in Livorno, and eventually returned to England by ship. Joseph Paris, the Provençal cook, was always more of a hireling than a true believer and likewise took his leave. Most of his personal staff, however, remained, and Theodore's retinue on the road consisted of at least his valet Antonio Pino; his Elban chaplain Antonio Candeotto; his loyal Moorish footmen Mahomet and Montecristo; his Dutch equerry Giraud Keverberg; his aides-de-camp, Saviero Carlieri of Naples and Cristoforo Buongiorno of Livorno. They were joined by dell'Agata and Gio-Paolo Costa, the chancellor's nephew.


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    Horace Walpole in 1741

    From Pisa, Theodore penned a letter to Horace Mann, the British minister in Florence. Mann sympathized with the Corsicans and had expressed privately some support for Theodore's enterprise in the past (he had been chargé d'affaires in Florence since 1738, and became minister only in 1740), but he also found Theodore to be an odd and troublesome fellow, and like a good diplomat worried about the discredit that an association with Theodore might bring upon his government. He kept the king at arm's length, but did mention his contact with Theodore to his friend Horace Walpole, the son of the British prime minister Sir Robert Walpole. Horace Walpole was at that time on a Grand Tour of Italy, as was fashionable for young British men of privilege, and had been living in Florence since December of 1739. Walpole's interests lay in the elite social circle of Florence and its lavish parties, and he was intrigued by the romantic figure of Theodore in a way that the older and more cynical Mann was not.[1] Upon hearing from Mann that Theodore was in the country, Walpole decided at once that he needed to meet one of Europe's most mysterious celebrities. Mann wanted nothing to do with this misadventure, but did nothing to stop Walpole from getting in contact with dell'Agata through Blackwell. Despite the potential danger, Theodore eagerly agreed to a meeting. On the 13th, after keeping a low profile at Blackwell's house for more than a week, Theodore made his way to dell'Agata's house in Florence, and Walpole visited the following day.

    Walpole thought that Theodore quite lived up to his reputation—he described him as handsome, charming, and dignified despite the present difficulties of his situation. Theodore presumably enjoyed their chat as well. Such company was a welcome change from his rather dreary and provincial court at Corti and Zicavo, and although Theodore never sneered at his rustic subjects he was clearly more comfortable with fellow European gentlemen with the background, culture, and education of "his class." For the king, however, the "audience" with Walpole was primarily a means to an end. Theodore certainly knew he was the son of Sir Robert Walpole, the leading figure of British politics since the 1720s, and hoped that the support of the younger Walpole might improve his prospects of influencing the elder. If so, one may doubt Theodore's grasp of the British political system, for the elder Walpole was not about to be led about on policy matters by his youngest son gallivanting around Italy. Nevertheless, his acquaintance could at least be useful to gain introductions.[A]

    It seemed like an ideal time for courting British support, for the country was presently engaged in a war with Spain which virtually all parties assumed would become a war with France as well. There had been an invasion scare in England earlier in the year when it was thought that the Spanish fleet had built up a combined naval and land force in Galicia to attempt a landing in Ireland, or perhaps England itself, and there were fears that if the Spanish and French fleets in the Atlantic were to link up they would be able to overwhelm the squadron guarding the channel. While the governments of both Britain and France were averse to war, each was quite certain that the other intended it; the British believed the French were merely waiting for an opportune moment to jump in, while in August of 1740 the French chief minister Cardinal André-Hercule de Fleury opined that "one cannot reasonably doubt that the English will declare war in due form."

    Theodore used Walpole's visit to sound out his ideas for a British intervention in Corsica. As the conflict was presently a maritime affair only, naval bases were of paramount importance. Corsica boasted several good natural harbors with shelter, fresh water, and proximity to key Bourbon facilities. With the French in command of the island, British trade interests in Livorno could be easily quashed, which was of significant (if secondary) concern to London; in contrast, a British squadron in Calvi or San Fiorenzo could keep a close watch on Toulon and Antibes with the greatest of ease. Supplies from Corsica could be used to provision Britain's other Mediterranean installations at Gibraltar and Port Mahon more easily than dispatching ships from England. Perhaps he somewhat oversold Corsica's own strategic significance, but he clearly understood that to win real support and overcome the misgivings of British politicians he had to appeal not to sympathy but to strategy. No British government would lift a finger to rescue the Corsicans from subjugation out of altruism, but they might be tempted if they could be convinced that control of the island gave them an important strategic resource and denied it to the French. Theodore himself expressed his complete confidence that the French wished to control Corsica, either directly or under the guise of nominal Genoese sovereignty, and described a pro-British Corsica as the only possible alternative to a French Corsica. He was, in effect, offering up his kingdom as a protectorate, and himself as a client king.

    Horace Walpole was from this point on an avid supporter of Theodore and the Corsicans: "I wish Him [Theodore] success with all my soul," he later wrote Mann. "I hate the Genoese; they make a commonwealth the most devilish of all tyrannies!" He was not, however, the man to make Theodore's dreams come true in 1740, and in any case he was at this time in his life more interested in fashionable diversions than foreign policy. Theodore's first formal pitch of his plan for the British was not made in Florence, but his next destination, the grand old city of Venice. Theodore was no stranger to Venice, having visited there some years before his Corsican adventure. His lodgings there were at a modest house in the district of Cannaregio, secured by a friend who worked for the Austrian ambassador. He was also protected by a network of contacts within the Venetian military. A thousand Corsicans served in the Republic's army, and a few of Theodore's most prominent officers were veterans of the Venetian forces. It was probably one of them who gave Theodore an introduction to Count Matthias Johann von Schulemburg, one of the most senior and respected generals in the Venetian army, who gave Theodore his support.


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    William Stanhope, Baron (later Earl) Harrington

    Once established in Venice, Theodore called upon his old acquaintance Neil Browne, the British consul. While "friends" may be too strong a term to describe Theodore and Browne, the consul had aided Theodore in the past by handling his correspondence and was quite willing to continue in that vein. The king and the consul had regular conversations at Browne's house, and once Theodore had set down some preliminary proposals in writing Browne sent them by secret courier to William Stanhope, Baron Harrington, Secretary of State for the Northern Department.[2] Despite being in Walpole's government since 1730, Harrington had diverged with him recently on foreign policy matters in an attempt to ingratiate himself King George II. As both King of Britain and Elector of Hanover, his birthplace, George had a keen interest in the fate of his continental possession and his interests there increasingly put him at odds with Walpole. Despite the fact that Walpole had made Harrington's political career, Harrington now sided with the king and went so far as to privately counsel George against the policy of his own cabinet on several occasions. This limited his influence in the government, but nevertheless Theodore's proposals appear to have made their way through him to the cabinet and Walpole himself.

    The government not only answered Theodore but gave a favorable, if a bit tepid response. British interest was not as surprising as it seemed. A war with France, as mentioned, was seen as both imminent and inevitable, and Genoa had recently been angering Britain in a most unwise fashion. Several of its vessels were known to be acting as privateers under the Spanish flag and raiding British shipping. Furthermore, the "Young Pretender" Prince Charles Edward Stuart had not long ago passed through Genoa and had been welcomed and honored by the state; for the same affront, diplomatic relations had been broken off with Venice in 1737, and the same did not happen with Genoa only because the British had not had an ambassador there since 1722 anyway. Theodore's argument for Corsica's strategic importance was, if a bit exaggerated, essentially solid, and he had a proven and by now very famous track record of humiliating the French, something any British statesman worthy of the name could appreciate. The time was not yet ripe either politically or strategically for such a venture, but the government was clearly interested in keeping Theodore as a potential asset. They responded to Theodore by saying that an intervention in favor of the Corsicans was not out of the question, but Vienna's permission would have to be sought given their role as an occupier, and they would require strong assurances that the Corsican people really were behind Theodore. In the meantime, they urged Theodore to continue to build and maintain his support among the Corsicans, and instructed Browne to keep tabs on Theodore and do what he could to ensure the baron's safety.

    With Schulemburg and Browne on his side, he seemed very safe indeed, but the Genoese sniffed him out eventually. On September 5th, after several weeks in Venice, an assassination attempt was made upon Theodore which was reported to London by Browne. The details are not known, but despite being uninjured Theodore was quite rattled by it, and resolved to leave Venice posthaste. He departed the city for Switzerland shortly thereafter, armed with a letter from Schulemburg to Luke Schaub, the British minister to the Swiss Cantons. "The famous King Theodore," Schulemburg wrote, "has given plenty of proof of what he is capable of achieving, if he had enjoyed better luck or been supported by some great power... Please give him all the help and hospitality you can." To what extent Schaub gave his help and hospitality to Theodore is unclear, but Theodore did pass safely and uneventfully through Swiss territory into Germany. By mid-September he had come to his destination: Cologne, the city of his birth. His confidence had clearly returned, and so had his funding, as newspapers reported his arrival in the city with now fewer than four coaches and servants in livery. His first stop was the home of his uncle, Franz Bernhard Johann, who had raised him after his father's death and held the position of captain of the Halberdier Guard of the Elector of Cologne. Also present was Franz's only son Friedrich Wilhelm Franz Heinrich, a boy of fifteen, who was very excited to meet his famous cousin but was as yet too young to join in his adventures. He also stayed for a time at Schloss Brüninghausen, the residence of his cousin Conrad Stefan, Freiherr von Romberg zu Brüninghausen, whose late father had married Theodore's eldest aunt Philippa Adolpha Margaretha.

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    George II, King of Great Britain and Elector of Hanover, c. 1740

    In early September, just a few days before the attempt on Theodore's life in Venice, the British government learned that the French had dispatched a large fleet of warships to the West Indies, the primary theater of the Anglo-Spanish war. The British government considered this to be a likely prelude to war. King George, at that time, was in Hanover, attempting to entice Friedrich II, the new King of Prussia, into an alliance. George, unaware of the seriousness of the Prussian king's designs on Silesia, believed that Prussia could be built up and cultivated as a bulwark against France, presumably working in parallel with Austria rather than at cross-purposes to her. Foreign policy was one area of British policy-making in which the king still held dominion, but matters were confused by George's dual role as king and elector. His personal diplomacy with Friedrich, conducted without the influence of his cabinet, vexed Walpole and was unpopular in England, where it was felt that the king's interests lay more with Hanover than the English.

    Feeling that his moment had come, Theodore worked harder than ever to bend the British ear. He sent frequent letters to Robert Trevor, the British envoy to the States General and another regular correspondent of Horace Walpole, regarding his plans for Britain and Corsica. "I venture to flatter myself," he wrote, "that his Majesty and the whole English nation will honour me with their support in these conjectures, to enable me to return to my faithful followers in Corsica." He penned a briefing paper on the geography of Corsica and its various harbors which he included with one of these letters. He dearly desired to gain a royal audience, particularly since George was himself in Germany at the time. It seemed fortunate, then, that the only cabinet minister which George had taken with him to Hanover was Lord Harrington, the recipient of Theodore's letters from Venice and the man in Walpole's ministry who was most favorable to the Corsican scheme. Theodore appealed to both Trevor and Harrington for an introduction to the king, but while Harrington gave him his recommendation King George himself was reluctant. The Baron Neuhoff was not unknown to George, who had heard many unsavory rumors about him and was reluctant to keep such company. Thus, despite winning over Trevor and Harrington, George decided not to see him, and in November George returned to England. Undaunted, Theodore now appealed to Trevor for a passport by which he could come to London in person.

    In the meantime, Theodore and his lieutenants were gathering recruits and resources. An appeal was circulated in Cologne in which Theodore introduced himself and solicited officers and soldiers to join his company. In it, he gives his own name and title as "Theodore-Etienne, Baron de Neuhoff, Lord of Pungelscheid, Glind, Rade, Lybach, Meuchausen and Safferan... Elected and crowned King of Corsica under the title Theodore I on 15th April 1736." Dell'Agata, meanwhile, went to Amsterdam and met with investors of the syndicate. The syndicate's activities had been effectively curtailed by the French blockade of Corsica and the reluctance of the States General to inflame relations with Versailles, but the principal investors were still on board at least in principle. They would not consider organizing another "armada" while the French and Austrians effectively ruled the island, but were willing to advance Theodore a modest loan to support his recruiting efforts in Germany and agreed that another arms sale would be conceivable if France backed off—or, better yet, if Britain publicly gave its support to Theodore's candidacy.

    Theodore also wrote to the new pope Benedict XIV, elected that August, reminding him of the medieval origins of the Corsican crown as a Papal bequest and inviting His Holiness to assert Rome's claims once more. Although the temporal power of the pope in the 18th century was, to put it charitably, quite limited, the papacy still maintained territorial claims (principally upon Parma, although Rome's claims over it were roundly ignored by the powers), and the legitimacy of papal support would still mean something both to the Corsicans and the international community. Yet Theodore may have been less interested in papal support as such than in needling the British, who might feel more inclined to intervene if they believed that the Papacy, a hostile state which still did not recognize the Hanoverian succession, might get their hands on the island. Either way, it came to nothing; Rome never deigned to respond.

    Europe was now abuzz with rumors of "King Theodore" and his activities, and his efforts at recruiting and raising money made it impossible to remain hidden. The gazettes speculated as to where his money was coming from and what his next moves would be, while diplomats (including British ones) exchanged denials that they had anything to do with the man. Adventurers, mercenaries, and rogues of all kind began trickling into Cologne, either to enter the service of the King of Corsica, merely to gawk at him, or in some cases to use his fame as a basis for grifting. A number of men with no clear connection to Theodore began showing up at the homes of French and Genoese ambassadors and consuls offering to sell information, undoubtedly much of it spurious, on the renegade baron. Pamphlets and books were rushed off the printing presses giving accounts of the king's "reign" with varying degrees of accuracy, and one manuscript claimed to prove that Theodore was the very same von Syburg, known popularly as "the Alchemist of Magdeburg," who had been on the run from the authorities of several German states in the early 1730s. (This was quite true.)

    It was not until early December that Theodore finally got his passport and made all arrangements for his trip to England. The politics of Europe, however, did not stand still for anyone, least of all the King of Corsica. In the time he had been dutifully promoting his cause in Cologne, events had been set in motion which would embroil the baron and his Corsican subjects in a struggle far greater than any they had anticipated; for on the 20th of October, Emperor Karl VI breathed his last, and his daughter Maria Theresa became the first woman to accede to the Habsburg crowns.[B]


    Footnotes
    [1] At this time Walpole was was 22, and Mann 34.
    [2] In the British system of government at this time, the Northern Secretary was responsible for the Protestant countries of Europe, while the Southern Secretary was responsible for the Catholic and Muslim states further south. Strictly speaking, then, Corsica was not within Harrington's purview, but as an advisor to the king he was still a man of some importance.

    Timeline Notes
    [A] Horace Walpole was IOTL a major figure in Theodore's later life. When, finally despairing of ever regaining his throne, Theodore retired to England and was subsequently thrown in prison for debt, Walpole took out a subscription to help pay his fees and got him out of jail. When Theodore died in 1756 shortly after his release, Walpole arranged for his burial and commissioned the plaque at St. Anne's Church in Soho which still stands today [link], inscribed with an epitaph written by Walpole himself:

    The grave, great teacher, to a level brings
    Heroes and beggars, galley slaves and kings.
    But Theodore this moral learn'd ere dead:
    Fate poured its lessons on his living head,
    Bestow'd a kingdom, but denied him bread.

    [B] At long last. This is a rather long update by the standards of this TL, but I didn't want to dwell too long on Theodore's journeys across Europe. I hope you'll forgive me for using just a puff of butterfly repellent; it was always my intention that the start of the WoAS would remain the same as OTL, and thus Emperor Karl has an appointment with a nice bowl of deadly mushrooms that not even Theodore can keep him from. Now the fun starts.
     
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