The Year of Victory
Cloister of the Franciscan Convent of Cervioni
War, which develops the strength of the body, at the same time tempers the soul, but often also hardens it. We owe her many of our virtues - and some of our vices.
- Don Pasquale Paoli
In July, King Theodore II issued a proclamation delaying the convocation of the
consulta generale of 1782 - normally scheduled for August - until further notice.
[1] Although the final draft of the Treaty of Poggio Imperiale would not be released until late August, the Corsican government knew that a document was in the works and wanted the signed treaty in hand before summoning the
consulta. The first reason for this was that the government did not want to turn the assembly into a popular soapbox for all and sundry to give their opinion on the treaty negotiations; that would do nobody any good. The second reason was that the approval of the
consulta would be necessary to fulfill the treaty’s expected provisions.
Foreign Minister Giovan Francesco Cuneo d’Ornano had it on good authority that one of the terms of the treaty would be the repeal of Article Ten of the Corsican Constitution, which stated “that in the Kingdom cannot dwell nor inhabit any Genoese of any rank or condition, and that the king cannot allow any Genoese to reside in the Kingdom.” The Comte de Vergennes had declared this provision “odious” and a product of “irrational animosity” which was an absolute impediment to peace. Theo was happy to abolish it, but that was not actually within his power. The fundamental principle of Corsican constitutional law was that the Constitution of 1736 was effectively a
contract between the people (in the form of the national assembly) and the king, and thus could not be amended without the consent of both parties.
Befitting the special nature of this summit, the king chose to constitute the “
consulta generale straordinaria” of October 1782 at Cervioni rather than Corti. It was no doubt chosen for its special relevance - the first capital of the Kingdom of Corsica, the burial place of Corsican kings, and the place where the constitution had originally been drafted (and then promulgated a few miles away at Alesani). There was not much in the way of festivities, perhaps reflecting the country’s difficult financial situation, but the king himself gave no impression of austerity. This was his moment of victorious spectacle. At the Franciscan convent of Cervioni, Theodore II was enthroned before the
consulta in the black uniform of the Noble Guard, the green sash and star of the
Ordine della Redenzione, and a voluminous crimson silk robe draped over his shoulders, with a laurel wreath upon his brow and the
bacchetta rossa in his hand.
[2]
Seated in state before the
procuratori, Theo opened the proceedings with a speech. He declared that this “year of victory” represented the final, crowning achievement of the Corsican Revolution. With the conquest of Bonifacio, he had fulfilled the solemn pledge of the House of Neuhoff to liberate all of Corsica from the Genoese yoke. He admitted that the victory had cost the nation in blood, but declared that the Corsicans had never feared to pay any price for their country, their nation, and their honor. He called upon the
procuratori to “confirm” Corsica’s victory by repealing Article Ten, a magnanimous act of mercy and reconciliation towards a former foe which no longer troubled the victorious Corsican nation.
This was not a very hard sell. Article Ten was widely considered antiquated, a relic of the bitter struggle of the Revolution, and the
consulta repealed it by acclamation. When this was done, the king and the
procuratori went on to strike out several other obsolete constitutional provisions. Article Nine, which concerned the revolutionary army,
[3] and Article Twelve, which provided for the confiscation of Genoese property,
[4] had since been rendered moot, and Article Twelve in particular was deemed “defamatory” by the king because it specifically categorized “the Greeks” as rebels against the kingdom. That had been true in 1736, but many Greeks had fought bravely for the Corsican crown as sailors and marines in the recent war.
The abolition of strictures against the Genoese did not mean that the Corsicans were fully reconciled to their neighbors. For many
procuratori, the greatest defect of the Treaty of Poggio Imperiale was
not the lack of an indemnity or the failure to acquire the rights to the Galite isles (which even educated Corsicans had difficulty locating on a map), but the fact that Genoa had escaped punishment for its offenses against religion. The Republic’s use of the ships of the Deputation of the New Armament, purchased with holy donations for war against the infidel, was a grave crime against God and Corsica alike. In Corsica, Lomellino’s squadron was not known as the
grande armamento but the
flotta maladetta (“accursed fleet”). Corsican statesmen compared the Siege of Capraia to the Siege of Zara in 1202, when the perfidious Venetians had used a crusading army to assault a Christian city. The Corsicans had demanded that Pope Innocent XIV do to Lomellino and his fleet what Pope Innocent III had done to the “crusaders” at Zara - excommunicate the lot of them.
Ironically, Corsica itself had made this demand impossible to fulfill. Rome’s
monitorio against Theodore I had not only failed to correct the king’s behavior, but had caused a significant backlash against the pope by monarchs, statesmen, and intellectuals all over Europe who denounced his actions as retrograde and draconian. In 1769 Pope Benedict XV had declined to publish the annual bull
In Coela Domini, the basis of Theodore’s excommunication, which had been issued regularly since 1363; it would never be published again. The Corsicans pointed out that by seizing the Deputation’s fleet Genoa had confiscated far more “church goods” than Theodore I had ever laid his hands upon, and Innocent did not disagree. But the pope was in an impossible situation: he knew from the Corsican experience that any religious sanction against Genoa or its fleet would almost certainly be ignored, and imposing such a sanction would only tarnish the papacy’s reputation and incur the wrath of secular authorities by making Rome appear to be taking sides in a worldly conflict. The Corsicans were asking the pope to wield a sword he no longer possessed; Theodore von Neuhoff himself had broken it.
Innocent took measures to satisfy the Corsicans during the war by censuring Genoa’s actions and ordering the Corsican ambassador in Rome to be given precedence over his Genoese counterpart, but this would not be enough. The Corsican people could never bring themselves to denounce the Holy Father directly, so the wrath of the
consulta was instead aimed squarely at Giovanni Lercari, the Archbishop of Genoa. The pope, at least, had offered a verbal rebuke to the Republic, but Lercari had been conspicuous in his silence. This was particularly galling because two of Corsica’s three dioceses were still suffragans of Genoa: technically Lercari was
their archbishop too, and he had tacitly approved of this sacrilegious act of violence against his own flock. Minister Pasquale Paoli proposed to sever all ties with the archdiocese and renounce its authority, and the
consulta of Cervioni- including the ecclesiastical delegates - overwhelmingly ratified his proposal. Cuneo d’Ornano sent a scathing letter to Rome declaring that it was “unheard of” for a sovereign Christian kingdom to be subject to a foreign primate, and that Corsica would cease to recognize Genoese archiepiscopal authority, ban all communications with the archdiocese, and take punitive measures against Rome (including the immediate downgrading of its mission from an ambassador to a mere envoy) until this was rectified.
[5]
On a more positive note, the king also used the
consulta as a stage upon which to reward his most valiant subjects. The Order of Redemption was awarded to Admiral Guglielmo “Lorenzo” Lorenzi, Captain Sebastiano Piccioni, and several other naval officers noted for gallantry, as well as to the heroes of Capraia - Lieutenant-Colonel Gio Carlo Paganelli, Major Basilio Corsi, and Captain Filippo Andrei. General Petriconi was made a hereditary
cavaliere, while Cuneo d’Ornano, “
il maestro della pace,” had his own hereditary knighthood elevated to a countship. Count Innocenzo di Mari was given the
Catena d’Argento, which for him was effectively a retirement gift. Having served as Minister of War for 20 years under three Corsican kings, the 65 year old count had decided that the victorious resolution of the Coral War was the perfect moment to conclude his public career. He split his time between a dignified retirement in his little home village of Taglio and occasional visits to court until his death in 1786.
The
Catena d’Argento which elicited the most comment was the one placed around the neck of Isacco Levi Sonsino, one of the foremost businessmen of the Jewish community of Ajaccio. Born to a prosperous family in Livorno, Isacco had originally visited Corsica in the service of the family coral business but had become enamored of the ideological project of “Theodoran liberty” and moved to Ajaccio permanently. Originally working as a coral broker, he had founded one of the city’s coral bead factories and was also involved in the maritime loan business. He also had an extensive network of family and business contacts in London and Amsterdam, including a cousin in London who was a prominent dealer in coral and diamonds.
Both before and during the Coral War, Levi Sonsino had used his contacts abroad to procure loans, naval stores, gunpowder, and weapons for the government. Isacco may not have gained the public renown of General Petriconi or Admiral Lorenzo, but his actions were no less important - and while as a coral magnate he stood to gain personally from a Corsican victory, he had a patriotic commitment to his adopted state and had taken on considerable personal expense and risk to keep the Corsican armed forces supplied and funded. Count Innocenzo had jokingly called him “the most important man in the war ministry,” despite the fact that he held no government position. With this award, Isacco became
Don Isacco - the first Jewish nobleman in Corsica (albeit a nobleman of the
non-heritable variety, as he had merely been awarded the
Catena, not granted a hereditary knighthood).
Don Isacco was one of the few people at Cervioni who had a real appreciation of the scale of the government’s financial problems. The ministry was under no obligation to disclose its budgetary figures to the
consulta, and it declined to do so because the figures were genuinely disturbing. Projections that the war would “pay for itself” through seized Genoese ships had proved wildly optimistic. Costs had still not yet returned to “peacetime” levels because of the ongoing need to garrison Bonifacio, whose people seemed to have grown
more restive once they learned that the Republic had bartered them away to the tyrant Theodore in exchange for a few villages in the Lunigiana.
There was not much to be done about this at the
consulta. The government had considered asking for a revision of Article Fourteen, which controlled the maximum price of salt, but this was a regressive tax that would be deeply unpopular among the small farmers and herdsmen who could least afford a rise in the price of salt. Instead the ministers made vague statements about the need to elect a
dieta which could make “difficult choices” to manage the kingdom’s finances. Once the
consulta was concluded, they would have their work cut out for them.
That work would be left to a new and reorganized council of state. Paoli, Cuneo d’Ornano, and Carli stayed on, but the War Ministry had been vacated by Mari’s retirement and the position of Grand Chancellor became available in November with the death of Father Carlo Rostini. Rostini, popularly known as “
il Padre Maestro,” was one of the last remaining men of the revolutionary old guard. He had worked in the royal chancellery since 1743 and had been Grand Chancellor since 1764. Famous for his sharp wit and sharper tongue, Rostini’s mind had never dulled with age - he simply dropped dead at 72. Some joked that the victory had killed him: Rostini’s fierce temper and his animus against the Genoese were legendary, and once the Genoese were driven from the isle he simply had nothing left to live for. Others suggested that the mere prospect of the Genoese walking amongst them once more after the repeal of Article Ten had been enough to strike him dead of apoplexy.
The king offered Rostini’s position to Minister Paoli. Paoli made a show of refusal, claiming that he was loath to leave the justice ministry when so much work remained to be done, but it is generally agreed that the move was actually Paoli’s idea. The position of Grand Chancellor had no responsibility for a great portfolio of state like war, justice, or diplomacy. Instead, the Grand Chancellor supervised the chancellery, which was the administrative heart of the crown - every royal edict, letter, and diploma was drawn up by the chancellery secretaries, and every
grida was given the royal seal by the chancellor. The position offered an excellent vantage point over every aspect of government as well as unrivaled access to the king, as the Grand Chancellor was in effect the monarch’s chief private secretary. The first man to hold this position, Sebastiano Costa, had been Theodore’s closest confidant and the most influential man in the government, and that was likely the role Paoli was envisioning for himself.
Paoli was replaced at the justice ministry by Auditor-General Don Pietro Giovan Tommaso Boerio, a distinguished lawyer and judge from Corti, while Mari was replaced at the war ministry by Count Giovan Quilico Casabianca, lieutenant-general of the northern district, best known for managing the “Balagna Crisis” in 1776-77. Casabianca was widely respected and the king liked him, but most importantly he was a close friend and political ally of Paoli.
[6] The same was true of Boerio, who had been Paoli’s second-in-command at the justice ministry and had authored substantial parts of the
Codice Generale del Regno (“general code of the realm”), Paoli’s grand project to overhaul Corsican law. Paoli could count on him to faithfully continue that work in his new role.
It was clear to all that the new government which convened at the end of 1782 was
Paoli’s government. All the ministers were friends or allies of Paoli who owed their appointments to his influence with the sole exception of Carli, the Minister of Finance, who agreed with the new Grand Chancellor on most issues of consequence. Not a single minister remained from the Frederician regime except for Paoli himself, who had entered the Second Matra Ministry in 1776. It had taken some time - Paoli was now 57 years old - but the man from Morosaglia had finally reached the summit of power, a position he would maintain for the rest of the century. The next twenty years of Corsican politics would be defined in large part by the relationship between him and the young king. Paoli still did not have the title of “prime minister,” but that scarcely mattered. The dignities of “Grand Chancellor of the Kingdom, Keeper of the Seals, and Vice-President of the Council of State” were entirely sufficient to make him the most powerful figure in the kingdom since the tenure of Marquis Gaffori. Corsica’s problems were now his to solve.
Footnotes
[1] Legally, anyone could constitute a
consulta, even a
consulta generale. While it was expected that a
consulta would be ordered by a prominent man of the kingdom - the
consulta of Alesani in 1736 had been ordered by Don Luigi Giafferi, general of the nation and Theodore’s first prime minister - the ultimate test of its legitimacy was not who originally ordered it, but whether it represented the nation. Since 1750 every
consulta generale had been ordered by the king, but the king’s order was not necessary to legitimate the assembly and a
consulta could theoretically be summoned over his opposition. Any meeting of the national assembly which deviated from the usual practice - an annual
consulta generale held in August and ordered by the crown - was known as an “extraordinary”
consulta (
consulta straordinaria), but there was no legal difference between “ordinary” and “extraordinary” assemblies. Thus, Theo’s proclamation delaying the
consulta generale was not actually an edict with legal force, but merely an announcement that the king did not intend to call the assembly until later. The assembly could have legally constituted itself in defiance of his announcement, but there was no pressing reason to do this.
[2] The
bacchetta rossa (lit. “red wand/stick”) was a rod of state, resembling a marshal’s baton. It is often falsely claimed to have been carried by Theodore I in his revolutionary battles. Certainly Theodore was often depicted with a marshal’s baton, but that was common artistic convention for military leaders. The
bacchetta rossa was in fact a gift to Theodore from Captain-General Simone Fabiani after independence. It was a rod of reddish, polished
arbutus wood (
arbutus unedo or “strawberry tree”). There was a silver cap on either end, each ringed with a chain motif and bearing an engraved Moor’s Head on the face. The
arbutus, along with the chestnut, was considered the “national tree” of Corsica and some sort of rod or branch of
arbutus is said to have been used as a symbol of authority or military power by the medieval Counts of Corsica. Theodore I seems to have rarely used the
bacchetta, if ever, but Federico favored it, and Theodore II carried it with him during his “command” of the Siege of Bonifacio in 1781.
[3] IX: “That for the moment, and as long as the war with the Genoese lasts, the King may engage and use foreign troops and militia provided that they do not exceed the number of 1,200, which may nevertheless be increased by the King with the consent of the Diet of the Kingdom.”
[4] XII: “That all the property of the Genoese and the rebels to the country of the Kingdom,
including the Greeks [emphasis added], be and remain confiscated and sequestered, except for reasons that would otherwise claim by proving the contrary by documents. It is understood that the property of a Corsican shall not be confiscated, provided that he does not pay any royalties or taxes to the Republic of Genoa or to the Genoese.”
[5] This was not a simple request. Genoa oversaw two of the island’s three dioceses, but for historical reasons the title of “Primate of Sardinia and Corsica” was held by the archbishop of Pisa, who oversaw only one of Corsica’s dioceses. But the title of primate was
also contested by the Archdiocese of Cagliari in a complicated ecclesiastical and political dispute which had been ongoing since the 16th century. The archbishops of Cagliari were more interested in primacy over Sardinia than Corsica, but since the islands were historically linked they remained an interested party. Giving Corsica its own primate-archbishop would thus involve revisiting centuries-old disputes and potentially angering no fewer than
three important archbishops in three different countries, which was why Rome was so reluctant to comply with Cuneo d’Ornano’s demands.
[6] Casabianca’s replacement was Major-General Petriconi, his subordinate in the northern district. This entailed a promotion to lieutenant-general, bringing Petriconi to the highest military rank in the kingdom (short of Captain-General, which nobody had held since the death of Simone Fabiani).
