HISTORY OF CORSICA.
The history of Corsica, from the earliest times down to the middle
of the eighteenth century, is an unparalleled history of bloodshed,
misery, and heroism.
As far as is known, the first colonization of the island was the work
of Phocæans; but, about 260 B.C., it fell into the hands of the Romans.
The conquest of Corsica, even in these early days, and attempted by so
formidable a power as that of Rome, was, however, no light matter; and
for about one hundred years the brave little island kept her conquerors
at bay.
Finally, however, she succumbed, remaining in their hands for several
centuries; in fact, until the fall of the Roman Empire.
From this time until the close of the eleventh century, the story of
Corsica is nothing but a series of contests, external and civil.
One foe after another attacked and devastated the unhappy island.
Greeks, Saracens, Tuscans, and others in turn attempted to possess
themselves of it; fighting over it like dogs over a bone, or handing it
unscrupulously from one to another.
The natives, meanwhile, were engaged in an incessant heroic struggle
with their foes, to whom they never willingly submitted, at the same
time that they were resisting the cruel tyrannies of their own feudal
aristocracy.
Trade was unknown, and cultivation neglected; the coasts, harassed by
marauders, were deserted; the inland villages, a prey to the lawless
exactions of the barons, were impoverished; and many of the poorer
people took refuge among the fastnesses of their mountains, carrying
with them little but their weapons and their freedom.
In the tenth century, however, notwithstanding the confusion and
warfare that reigned around, we hear of the first constitution framed
by the Corsicans, under their legislator Sambuccio.
This democratic republic was the foundation of all the later
constitutions in the island, even including that of Paoli, and bears a
strong testimony to the intelligence and the self-respect of a people
whose patriotism could not be denied even by their enemies, but who
were considered on the continent as a semi-barbarous race.
The head of the constitution consisted of a Council of Twelve, chosen
by the podestas, who comprised the lower legislative body. These
podestas, or magistrates, were the presidents of their respective
provincial assemblies, each formed of a certain number of scattered
parishes, or pieves; and, associated with them, were certain "Fathers
of the Community." These men were probably elected for a year, and
were to have a special eye to the interests of the poorer or more
defenceless portion of the community. They, again, had the right of
choosing their own president, termed the Caporale, who was expressly
intended as the people's representative in the highest council and
elsewhere.
In 1098 Pope Urban (who, without any fair title, laid claim to the
ownership of Corsica) installed the Archbishop of Pisa as feudal lord
over the island.
For about a hundred years, the Pisans kept possession of it, or at
least parts of it, never wholly subduing the warlike and determined
inhabitants; and, during this time they governed wisely and well,
building towns and making roads, and encouraging, as far as they
were able in the disturbed condition of the island, industry and
agriculture. But the moderate government of Pisa was not long to remain
unmolested. The Genoese were beginning to cast covetous eyes upon
Corsica; and, in the beginning of the twelfth century, persuaded the
See of Rome to bestow upon them about one-half of the territory she
had, rather more than a century before, given to Pisa.
The Pisans, naturally resenting this action, prepared to defend what
they considered their property; and, for the next hundred and fifty
years, an almost incessant contest was kept up between the two parties,
some of the natives remaining neutral, but for the most part joining
one side or the other.
The great hope and support of the Pisans was a noble Corsican of the
name of Guidice della Rocca, who had lived for many years in exile
at the court of Pisa, but had not ceased to love his country with
a burning ardour, and who foresaw, in the rule of Genoa, a cruel
taskmaster, and the extinction of the growing prosperity of his
country. He was brave, determined, and wise; and, for a long time,
his efforts against the Genoese, in command of the Pisan troops, were
attended with success.
But both Bonifacio and Calvi were not only garrisoned, but to a great
extent colonized by natives of Genoa, and with these _points d'appui_
and the superior power of Genoa to back him up, General Doria could not
but, after a time, get the better of his opponents.
When blind and very old, Della Rocca, the noble patriot and just judge,
was treacherously betrayed into the hands of his enemies by a son of
his own, and ended his days, deserted and uncared for, in a wretched
dungeon in Genoa.
From that time until the middle of the eighteenth century, Corsica
remained writhing beneath the scourge of the Genoese power; sometimes,
however, shaking off the yoke and chastising the enemy, and never,
for more than a few years at a time, remaining quiescent beneath the
tyranny they loathed.
Crushed but not quelled, ruined but not disheartened, decimated but
never terrified, the Corsican nature, strong and simple, remained true
to its universal instinct, the principle which was their very life and
being, and which they imbibed with their mother's milk--love of country
and love of liberty.
During that time, the land literally bathed its plains in the blood of
martyrs, and no Corsican thought it too much to give up home and life
for the sake of that suffering country which was so dear to him in her
suffering, or that freedom which was to him more than life itself.
The castle of Guidice della Rocca, who was the first Corsican of mark
to lose his life in disputing the invasion of Genoa, is situated on a
lofty rock above Monticelli, a mountain village about half-way between
San Fiorenzo and Isola Rossa. It is now, of course, in ruins, but still
commands the road below with stern grey walls that are not the less
grand for the decaying touch of age.
About seventy years after the death of Guidice, another of his family
rose up, Arrigo by name, who, until he was poisoned in the year 1401,
did good service for his country, vanquishing the Genoese, driving
them for some years almost entirely from the island, and winning the
friendship of the king of Spain.
But Arrigo, although wise and brave, was cruel; and he soon raised
up a strong home faction against himself by his remorseless measures.
This was headed by some of the barons, who ultimately drove him from
the country. But only for two months; after which time, Arrigo della
Rocca re-appeared, defeated the Genoese, and regained his power in the
island.
But Genoa had not now to learn for the first time the use of poison,
nor to seek far for assassins to carry out her infamous designs. In the
history of Corsica, treachery and murder on the part of the Genoese
republic play a conspicuous part, and they were foes with which the
devoted heroism and the ceaseless energy of their opponents were unable
to cope. As fast, however, as one patriot of note disappeared, another
rose up in his place to take the part of leader among his distracted
countrymen; and Vincentello d'Istria, reared an exile, and serving in
the army of the king of Aragon, but by birth belonging to the same
noble family as Arrigo, was the next to make his name famous in his
country's cause.
For more than fifteen years he led his countrymen, with varying
success, against the Genoese forces; at one time even wresting from
them Calvi, their great stronghold, and going near to possessing
himself also of Bonifacio, which, however, after a brave resistance by
its Genoese garrison, was relieved at the last moment.
But at length force and intrigue together proved too much for D'Istria,
his enemies cunningly sowing dissensions in every available quarter,
and rousing up against him the antagonism of some of the proud and
lawless seigniors, or barons. He left Corsica to entreat the assistance
of Spain, but was taken prisoner on the voyage, and ended his days by
decapitation at Genoa in 1434.
For the next twenty years greater confusion than ever reigned in the
unhappy island.
Here and there a noble-minded patriot was to be found amongst the
barons, a man who loved his country better than rank or wealth, and
who could merge his own interests uncomplainingly in those of his
suffering countrymen; but as a rule, the seigniors were selfish and
proud, fighting more for their own supremacy than for the freedom of
their land, and the nobler spirits were to be found amongst those of
less noble birth.
During these twenty years half a dozen barons kept up petty civil wars
in their country, each striving after the position of chief or king of
Corsica; whilst the contest with the Genoese troops never flagged; and
the king of Aragon likewise put in a claim to the island.
In 1453, by the consent of the puzzled and distracted people, whose
blood had been shed unavailingly in every direction, and whose foes
were as numerous as the hydra-headed monster, it was resolved to accept
the "protection" or supremacy of the Bank of St. George of Genoa, a
company of capitalists, useful to the Genoese court, which ceded its
Corsican claims to them. The Bank accordingly commenced its process
of "farming" Corsica, which, save for an interregnum of about twenty
years, when the Milanese and Piombinese took their place, was continued
for nearly three hundred years. But not unchallenged.
A large proportion of the people had never consented from the first to
this change of masters. They had no greater faith in the Bank of Genoa
than in the Court of Genoa, and preferred death, starvation, and ruin
to any foreign master. And by degrees the cruel exactions and boundless
injustice of the new governors brought over to their opinion the small
remnant who, in their despair, had agreed to the new arrangement.
Another Della Rocca appeared on the scene at this time, and for many
years he and a rival nobleman, Giovanni Paoli da Leca, with their
retainers, fought with equal spirit against each other and against the
common enemy.
In 1501, Da Leca was driven from his beloved country, never to return;
but the dauntless Renuccio della Rocca continued his efforts for
many years longer. Constantly defeated and chased from the island,
he as constantly returned again to harass his bitter foes, sometimes
accompanied only by a few followers.
Twice he was forced to come to terms, and was carried as a prisoner to
Genoa; but his spirit never failed, and each time he managed, after a
short space, to escape from prison, the Genoese on the first occasion
revenging themselves for the loss of the father by the execution of his
eldest son.
In 1510 this determined man returned for the last time to his native
land, with only eight followers. The peasantry were exhausted and
decimated by ceaseless wars, and the leader for whom they longed was
the exiled Da Leca.
They knew the cause was hopeless; and Della Rocca, the declared enemy
of their favoured Da Leca, had not their confidence. They pitied him,
but they would not follow him; and Renuccio became a wandering bandit
amongst the western hills. His previous unsuccessful risings had been
followed by the most remorseless cruelties on the part of Andreas
Doria, the Genoese commander, who had tortured the inhabitants and
laid waste the villages which had given countenance or shelter to their
fellow-countryman.
And now, once more resolved to free itself of this unpleasant enemy,
the Genoese Bank recommenced its usual course of cruel persecution.
Renuccio was sought for in every direction by bands of Italian
soldiers, whilst the unhappy villagers around were put to the torture
to force them to discover his whereabouts.
This no man was found capable of doing. They would not deliver the man
who had fought for them and for their country into the hands of his
enemies; but, overcome by their miseries, they slew him themselves, and
his dead body was found at length among the fastnesses around Ajaccio,
in May, 1511.
For now nearly forty years, there was a temporary lull in the active
resistance of the Corsicans to their masters; and during this time
the Genoese Bank mitigated a little their severity, and ruled their
ill-gotten possession with some apparent benevolence.
Many of the higher nobles migrated to other lands, and entering foreign
service, distinguished themselves in continental warfare. The people,
meanwhile, were suffering from national exhaustion consequent on the
incessant destructive warfare of centuries, and perhaps also waiting to
see if the present promise of a paternal government were likely to be
fulfilled.
They had not long to wait. The fair pledges of the Bank soon faded
away--the reality of cruel exactions took their place--and once more
the indefatigable people rose to arms. The period of apparent calm had
but been the moment's lull before the storm, the gathering up of fresh
forces for renewed contest. And those few years had matured perhaps the
greatest man ever produced by Corsica--a man whose heroism and whose
devotion were equal to Paoli's, but who possessed besides a savage
grandeur of nature peculiar to himself, his country, and his age.
This was Sampiero, the truest friend, the most implacable foe, and
perhaps the most iron-nerved man the world has ever known.
His youth was spent abroad, and he served with equal distinction
amongst the Medici Black Bands at Florence, and subsequently with
the French army, where he became colonel of a Corsican regiment under
Francis I., and won the friendship of Bayard.
It was not until Sampiero was nearly fifty years old that he took any
active part in the struggles of his country.
Some two years before, he had visited his native land in order to woo
and win the beautiful Vannina Ornano for his wife.
The Ornano family was, in point of nobility, far superior to Sampiero's
own, but the Corsican colonel's fame in courts and in the field
was already too widely spread for him to be considered an unworthy
son-in-law to any noble; whilst he himself, we may well believe, was
of an appearance well fitted to succeed in winning the affections of
any woman. He was a tall man, with the carriage and piercing eye of a
soldier, and with dark curling hair and features of a stern nobility,
that harmonized well with his character. His nature was simple and
self-denying, his life spotless and engrossed with noble aims, and his
depth of affection great; but his anger was terrible, and his scorn for
weakness or dishonesty almost cruel.
The history of his marriage is a terrible romance, ending in tragedy.
He was already, at the time of his marriage, dreaded by the masters
of his country as one likely to be a formidable foe; and they only
followed their usual illegal system of tyranny, in falling upon him so
soon as he set foot in his own land, and thrusting him into prison.
He was soon liberated again, owing to the interference of the French
ambassador at the Genoese court; but the incident cannot fail to have
deepened his determination to be his country's deliverer when occasion
offered.
An opening soon occurred in the project of the French king to lead his
troops against Corsica, both as an injury to Genoa, with whom he was at
war, and also as a menace to their ally and his enemy, the emperor of
Germany.
In the year 1553, a French fleet, joined by some Turkish vessels,
and having on board Marshal Thermes, and Admiral Paulin, and Sampiero
himself, together with many other exiled Corsican patriots, sailed for
the island.
An emissary had already been despatched thither some time before
by Sampiero, and the greater part of the nation were awaiting their
arrival with eagerness, prepared to welcome the French as friends, and
to assist them against the common foe.
The gates of Bastia were immediately thrown open to the invaders. The
Genoese garrison and bastion walls of Calvi and Bonifacio proved for
some time too strong for Turkish and French vessels; but San Fiorenzo
was made to capitulate to Thermes, and the impregnable Corte, and the
fortress of Ajaccio, both threw wide their gates to welcome Sampiero.
Presently Bonifacio, after a heroic resistance by the Genoese garrison,
surrendered to the Turks; and the Genoese, routed in every direction,
had no single fortress left to them save Calvi.
For about three months these successes continued; when the Genoese
Bank, terrified at the loss of all their possessions, sent Andreas
Doria to the rescue. Doria was now an aged man, but his good fortune
remained true to him, and he succeeded in wresting back some of the
victories obtained by the French.
Sampiero being also about this time incapacitated by a severe wound,
he defeated the Corsicans in the battle of Morosaglia. This defeat,
however, quickly brought the sick hero from his bed, again to turn
the fate of war; and for five years the contest continued with varying
success.
Then followed a cruel stroke to the poor deluded islanders, who had
fancied that France was for ever to be their protector and ally. The
king of France, tired of war, and ungenerously forgetful of former
promises, concluded a treaty with his continental enemies, by which
he again surrendered Corsica to her old tyrant Genoa. Decimated
and discouraged, the Corsicans saw their six years of bloodshed and
impoverishment wasted by the political selfishness of their stronger
neighbours, and the independence for which they had so willingly laid
down life, and laid desolate home, toyed with as a plaything, and
bartered by the monarch in whose good faith they had trusted.
But, if their power of resistance was not crushed, much less was
Sampiero's. Throwing up his old employment, he now travelled from court
to court, seeking assistance for his beloved country in this her last
and most treacherous stroke of fortune.
Whilst engaged in this occupation, a terrible domestic calamity
suddenly reached his ears--a calamity which, to his half-savage,
wholly-noble mind, engrossed with love of country and a passion for
that country's freedom, seemed the cruellest and basest disgrace that
had ever befallen a man.
His wife Vannina, who had not lived much, in these troublous times,
with her stern and warlike husband, was now residing with her two boys
at Marseilles, under French protection. The Genoese, hoping to injure
Sampiero through her weakness, surrounded the lonely woman by friendly
seeming spies, who at length persuaded her credulous nature that the
cause of her husband was one useless to his country, prejudicial to
his own interests, and that it was the duty of a true wife to dissuade,
rather than to abet this madman in his lawless endeavours.
Sampiero was in Algiers seeking the assistance of the celebrated
Barbarossa, when news was brought him that Vannina was about to escape
to Genoa.
Scarcely able to credit the terrible idea that his own wife could
desert the cause that to him was more sacred than life, he yet refused
to leave the work on which he was engaged, and sent a friend instead to
Marseilles to follow and intercept the fugitive.
Vannina was overtaken at Antibes, and took refuge in the bishop's house.
The prelate, however, afraid perhaps of Sampiero, soon ejected the
miserable woman, who proceeded to Aix. The Parliament there offered her
its protection.
But Vannina, though weak, was of Corsican blood, and sprung from a
race of heroes, and she refused to be protected from her husband. "I
have sinned," she said, sadly; "I am his wife; let him do to me what he
pleases."
And she waited for his arrival in the castle of Zaizi, near Aix, where,
after concluding his more pressing business, the stern patriot came to
fetch her.
Silently the two travelled back together to the deserted home at
Marseilles; the heart of one full of bitter pain and shame and anger,
the other of a sad realization of her treachery.
What was the tempest raging in the mind of Sampiero, we know not; but
it is impossible to believe that one of his nature contemplated murder
beforehand.
As he crossed the threshold of the house, where he had left Vannina
a beloved and trusted wife, now empty and tenantless owing to her
desertion of her country's cause and her want of faith in him, the
realization of the disgrace she had brought upon herself and him, and
the disloyalty she might even have instilled into the hearts of their
children, suddenly roused the demon of passion in his breast, and
possessed by madness, he turned upon her and plunged his dagger in her
heart.
It was fifteen years now since the rugged Corsican had married his
beautiful bride, and his love for her had never cooled. The very
fierceness of his affection, however, only added a sting to the frenzy
of his outraged feelings; and if Sampiero ever repented him of his
cruel deed, none knew of that remorse, further than believing they
could read its signs on the sterner, sadder features of the old man's
face.
In 1564 Sampiero landed in Corsica with a little band of about fifty
men, French and Corsicans.
He had been courteously treated by one and all of the courts he had
visited, but he had failed to obtain any help for his country more
substantial than promises.
In accordance with his chivalric spirit, he burnt, on landing, the
vessel in which he had arrived, that the means of return might be
closed to his followers and himself.
As he advanced into the country the people everywhere rose and joined
him; and, defeating the Genoese before Corte, he took possession of
that important citadel.
The victory of Vescovato soon followed; and the Genoese, trembling for
their cause, sent Stephen Doria with a superior force to oppose the
skilful patriot.
One of Doria's first actions was a puerile and ignoble one. Marching to
Bastelica, the birthplace of the great Corsican, he burnt the village,
and destroyed Sampiero's house.
But Sampiero's house and his possessions were little to him, compared
to the sufferings of his country; and he was far more deeply touched
by the cruelties inflicted on the harmless and the innocent by his
unfeeling foe. For three years he carried on the warfare, more or less
successfully, against the very superior forces of Genoa; and during
this time was not merely the military leader of his people, but also
their statesman, convoking national assemblies, which he guided by his
far-seeing wisdom to prudent measures, and in every way endeavouring to
lay the seeds of a constitution that, when peace should come, might be
a blessing to his country.
But the patriot was doomed at length to fall by treachery. Since the
fatal act of passion which resulted in his wife's death, the family of
the Ornano had naturally become his bitterest foes; and, to abet their
terrible vendetta, they deserted their very country and offered to
assist the Genoese by stratagem.
The old warrior was decoyed by forged letters, with but a small party
of followers, into a narrow defile, where his enemies, rushing suddenly
from their ambuscade, swarmed upon him, eager for his blood. The old
lion fought hard for life, but was at length overcome, and his head cut
off and carried to Doria.
It was in the year 1567, when Sampiero was in his sixty-ninth year,
that this greatest of Corsicans thus fell, by the sword of his
fellow-countrymen.
For two years his eldest son Alfonso continued the war with
considerable success; and then a treaty was concluded with Genoa on
favourable terms for the brave little island.
For the next fifty years Corsica remained inactive; depressed and
miserable under renewed Genoese exactions and tyrannies, but too
exhausted to resume hostilities.
In 1729, however, fighting again broke out, suddenly roused by one of
the many private wrongs then pressing upon the lower orders, and the
rebellion soon spread over the whole island.
It was well organized under two leaders of energy and ability, and was
more determined in its measures than ever. Internal reforms had been
effected, a general oath of resistance to the death against Genoa was
adopted, and the very clergy, who had sometimes shown themselves but
lukewarm friends to their country's cause, were at length roused by the
dishonesty of the republic, to take part with their fellow-countrymen,
and to declare the war a sacred one.
Genoa had recourse to the emperor of Germany, from whom she bought
several thousand mercenaries, who were sent across the sea to try
their skill upon these unconquerable islanders. Genoa paid high for
her assistance: thirty thousand gulden monthly for the force of eight
thousand men; and for every man killed or deserting, a compensation of
one hundred gulden.
The Corsicans, who knew of this arrangement, and who, half armed and
half clothed, half starved and unaided, had nothing but their own
natural skill in warfare, and their heritage of heroism upon which to
depend, were in nowise intimidated by their new antagonists; but, when
they struck down a German, were in the habit of shouting scornfully, "A
hundred gulden, Genoa!"
Meanwhile, the courage and chivalry of his insular foes had won for
them the regard of the opposing General Wachtendonk; and, chiefly
through his mediation, a treaty, supposed to be favourable to the
islanders, was concluded between Genoa and the Corte legislative
assembly in 1732.
Wachtendonk remained in the island another year to see the treaty
carried out, and in June, 1734, the German general returned to his own
country, carrying with him the regard of his enemies, who would fain
have had to deal with him instead of the republic that had hired him.
But he had scarcely retired before the treaty was broken. Genoa began
anew her system of illegal arrests and attempted assassinations; and,
once more, the people rose under Hyacinth Paoli, an obscure native of
the little village of Morosaglia, but a man of spirit and talent, and
a scholar.
Under the direction of this man, and of Giafferi, his colleague, a
democratic constitution, in the highest degree prudent and practical,
was framed for the Corsican people; whilst the popular enthusiasm in
the continued war found vent in standards representing the Holy Virgin
and her Son, implying that, unassisted as they were, and unreached
by human sympathy or compassion, they placed themselves beneath the
guardianship of Heaven.
Early in the next year occurred a strange and romantic adventure in
this adventureful country.
A man, handsome and well-dressed, surrounded by obsequious courtiers,
and attended by every luxury, landed in the island from a vessel
well-furnished with gold, ammunition, and arms.
This man was a German adventurer, Baron Theodore von Neuhoff, who,
after a romantic youth, had suddenly conceived a desire to become king
of Corsica.
He was a man of great talent and personal fascination, of good
judgment, and enthusiastic disposition.
He had fallen in love with the bravery and determination of the
Corsicans, and longed to head such a nation.
He had put himself into communication with the leading islanders;
and, having really some little influence at the continental courts,
persuaded them that he had much more.
He offered to obtain such assistance from foreign potentates, by his
persuasions, as should effectually oust the Genoese; and, in return,
requested the crown of Corsica.
His genius and his enthusiasm were so great, and his promises so
dazzling, that, after some hesitation, the poor Corsicans, in their
despair, seized upon this last straw; and in March, 1736, Theodore was
crowned king.
His exertions for the good of his country were untiring. He established
manufactures and promoted with all his power art and commerce, at the
same time that, with all the force of his genius, he endeavoured to
persuade foreign powers to lend their assistance to his new subjects
in the field. His style of living meanwhile was regal and sumptuous,
and a contemporary Italian historian tells us that he was incessantly
surrounded by a state guard, and that his meals were served to him from
the richest silver dishes.
But, alas! the fleet which he had promised his new subjects never
arrived.
The foreign princes declined to assist him; and presently the Corsicans
became dissatisfied, and began to demand something more convincing
than reiterated promises. Towards the conclusion of his first year
of sovereignty, Theodore left Corsica on a continental tour, with
the avowed object of hastening the promised succour. In two years
he returned, bringing with him three large and several smaller war
vessels, handsomely laden with ammunition, which had actually been
raised by means of his talents and persuasive faculties, chiefly
amongst the Dutch.
But, meanwhile, the Corsicans had had other affairs to which to attend.
France had interfered at the request of Genoa; and negotiations were
actively going on, which the arrival of the pseudo-king could only
interrupt.
Theodore, although now so well attended, found himself unheeded and
disregarded; and after a few months was forced to leave his new kingdom
to its fate, and to return to the continent.
Five years later, in 1743, he again returned, again well equipped, this
time with English vessels, but with the same ill success. Convinced now
that his chance was over and his dream of royalty destroyed, Theodore
returned to England with a sore heart, spending his remaining years in
this asylum for dethroned kings and ruined adventurers. His tomb may be
seen in Westminster Abbey.
For the next five and twenty years the war continued between Corsica
and Genoa, still fought out on the blood-deluged plains of the unhappy
little island.
But the republic of Genoa was now long past her prime, and her energies
were fading into senility; and, had it not been for the ever-increasing
assistance of France, her intrepid foes would long ere this have got
the better of her.
In May, 1768, a treaty was signed between Genoa and France, by which
the republic ceded her now enfeebled claims on Corsica to her ally, and
left her long-oppressed victim to fight the contest out with the French
troops.
During this time, first Gaffori, then Pasquale Paoli, were the leaders
of the people. Gaffori, a man of refinement, and a hero of skill and
intrepidity, was murdered in a vendetta in 1753, and in 1755 Pasquale,
youngest son of the old patriot Hyacinth Paoli, left his position as
officer in the Neapolitan service, and landed, by the general desire
of his own people, at Aleria, to undertake the command of the Corsican
army.
Pasquale was quite a young man at this time, but was well known to be
a highly educated student of no mean abilities, and a soldier who had
served with distinction in foreign active service.
He did not confine his services to the military affairs of his country,
but endeavoured to put a stop to that terrible internal scourge, the
vendetta, which was ruining a noble people.
Notwithstanding that he was now and then harassed by opposition from
one or two of the inland nobles, he continued his good work, and
effected many domestic reforms, at the same time that he fitted out a
Corsican fleet, and successfully resisted the French attacks.
From 1764 to 1768 a truce was concluded between the foes; and this
time Paoli spent in preparations for future emergencies, and in a wise
consolidation of the independent constitution of his country.
Militia were trained and banded, schools established, and crime
punished; and law and order, under the wise administration of this
great man, began everywhere to prevail.
In August, 1768, the truce was to expire; but, before the appointed day
had arrived, an army of twenty thousand French suddenly swooped down
upon the luckless island, and endeavoured by sheer force of numbers to
crush out resistance at once and for ever.
It was a hopeless struggle for Corsica; but the heroism of the
undaunted people moved all Europe to sympathy.
A company of Germans, and many other foreigners, joined their ranks and
fought side by side with the patriots in the defence of their island.
The French sent over their best generals to the small country; and
Marboeuf, Chauvelin, and De Vaux in turn worked at its subjugation.
A short but desperate struggle ensued, which was distinguished by the
wildest and most romantic deeds of valour; and, against the greatest
odds, the Corsicans at first got the better of their formidable foe,
at the Bridge of Golo, in the taking of Borgo, and in other lesser
actions.
Boys, and even women, joined in the fight; whilst quarter was refused
and unasked.
Marboeuf was wounded, and the garrison of Borgo, consisting of seven
hundred men, forced to surrender, after the defeat of the entire French
army.
Ten new battalions were sent for from France, and these again repulsed
in Nebbio.
The Corsican troops were commanded by Pasquale Paoli and his brother
Clemens. As Pasquale Paoli was undoubtedly one of the noblest and
wisest men of his time, so was his brother one of the strangest and
most romantic of characters.
Pasquale, with the clear blue eye, the line brow, and gentle
dignity of carriage, was at once the statesman, the general, and the
philanthropist.
He was the most unselfish and the most upright of men; benevolence,
simplicity, and patriotism endeared him justly to his own country,
whilst his talents and his breadth of mind made his friendship valued
by the great men of all countries. Frederick the Great, Alfieri, and
Dr. Johnson may be named amongst their number.
Clemens was of a different character. With perhaps less breadth of
intellect, and less diplomatic power, he was gifted with a passionate
depth of nature that could scarcely have existed in less troublous
times.
Having for many years served as a soldier--first at Naples, and then
amongst his own people--he afterwards added the profession of a monk to
his military occupations.
Entering the convent of Morosaglia, he emerged from it only to
fight his country's battles, with a courage and a skill that seemed
unparalleled.
Burning with enthusiasm, at once for his religion and his country's
cause, he spent the night in prayer, and the day in deeds of unheard-of
prowess. His success was wonderful; his spirit never failed, nor
was his hope quenched; and he constantly rescued his brother from
difficulty and danger, gaining many a brilliant action over the foe.
He was said to be a dead shot, and to have an eagle eye, and instant
judgment in battle; but in daily life to be gentle, grave, and
melancholy.
The French, not content with their overwhelming forces, essayed
the corruption of some of the national leaders by gold and by fair
promises, and managed to sow distrust amongst the Corsican generals.
Meanwhile, the country was being destroyed, and the troops becoming
exhausted; and none but Clemens Paoli could now believe in the ultimate
success of the Corsicans.
The battle of Ponte Nuovo, on the 9th of May, 1769, at once and for
ever annihilated the Corsican cause, and lost the brave islanders their
independence.
After this victory, the French rapidly gained possession of the whole
island, and shortly afterwards the struggle was abandoned. Paoli
foresaw the uselessness of protracting a bloody and hopeless contest;
and, preferring the possible sneers of a few to the ruin of his beloved
country, left Corsica with most of his generals for the continent.
In the same year, 1769, Napoleon Buonaparte was born in the house out
of the Place du Marché at Ajaccio. "I was born," he said himself in a
letter to Paoli, "the year my country died."
For some years exiled Corsicans of note endeavoured to resume the
struggle, landing from the continent here and there on the shores
of their own country; but none of these efforts were successful, and
Marboeuf, who succeeded Count de Vaux as governor of the island, did
much, by his wise and benevolent rule, to reconcile the people to their
new masters, and to promote the prosperity of Corsica.
He died in 1786; and shortly afterwards the Revolution drew the two
nations together, into relations which were at first friendly, and
finally enthusiastic; so that, in the year 1789, Corsica, by her
own desire, was incorporated in the new constitution of the French
republic.
Clemens Paoli had remained in Italy; but, for twenty years, Pasquale
had now eaten the bread of exile in London, when he was invited by his
own people and by the French National Assembly to return to Corsica.
Made much of on his way through Paris by Robespierre and the leaders of
the people, at Marseilles Paoli was welcomed by a Corsican deputation
headed by young Napoleon Buonaparte and his brother Joseph.
Reaching his own island, he became President of the Assembly and
General of the National Guard, but soon roused French suspicion in
these capacities.
Paoli was no bonnet-rouge or regicide, and sympathizing, as he did,
with the French republican constitution, he hated the crimes and
extravagances of the French communists. This was soon discovered, and
a report being promulgated that Paoli intended to alienate his country
from France, he was summoned before a court of inquiry.
The result was party strife in every direction. The main body of
Corsicans refused to consider their countryman guilty of high treason,
whilst a few sided with France, and fighting soon broke out.
Paoli requested the assistance of the English, offering to place the
island under their protection.
Admirals Hood and Nelson proceeded to Corsica, where they succeeded in
completely routing the republicans, and in making themselves masters of
the island.
After a good deal of misunderstanding, and some juggling on the part of
the English, the Corsicans consented to be governed by a vice-royalty
under Great Britain.
The whole island expected Paoli would be viceroy; instead of which, he
was recalled in his old age from the country for which he had spent his
whole life, and a stranger sent out in his place to govern his native
land.
Clemens, more happy, had returned--after twenty years of monastic life
at Vallombrosa, in Tuscany--to die in his own country, and had closed
his weary eyes in his native village of Morosaglia; but Pasquale came
back, a saddened and humiliated man, to England, dying in hopeless
exile, after the gleam of hope had once more illumined his path.
The bones of the last great patriot of Corsica lie in St. Pancras
churchyard.
The British government was not successful. Sir Gilbert Elliot
(afterwards Lord Minto) was ignorant of the country he had to deal
with, and deficient in tact.
On one occasion, noticing the dirty condition of the streets leading to
the citadel of Bastia, he ordered out a party of Corsican soldiery, to
sweep them clean. When the men found out for what purpose they had been
assembled, they were exceedingly indignant. Had the officer insisted,
there would have been a mutiny. Throwing down the shovels and brushes,
they dispersed angrily, remarking "that they had enlisted for soldiers,
and not for scavengers."
On another occasion, when the viceroy was paying his first visit to
Ajaccio, a ball was given in his honour by the inhabitants. A bust of
Paoli adorned the hall; seeing which, the viceroy's aide-de-camp flung
it down, exclaiming, "What business has this old charlatan here!" The
bust was thrown into a closet and broken to pieces; and when complaint
was made to Sir Gilbert, he refused to interfere, or to inflict any
punishment on his aide-de-camp.
By 1796, Sir Gilbert had alienated all the Corsicans, and quarrelled
with most of the English in Corsica. And in the month of November,
Napoleon Buonaparte, just victorious in Italy, found the sympathies of
his country all on his side when he despatched a force to the island
under two of his generals.
The English, on their part, already half-tired of their bargain,
relinquished the country after the faintest resistance; and once more
Corsica found herself united to France, through the means of her own
compatriot.
From that time to this the country has remained a province of France;
and now by degrees the national peculiarities are fading away, and
French words, French thought, and French manners are slowly superseding
the strong national characteristics of the warlike and singular people
living on this little island, which was for so long the hunting ground
of richer and more powerful, but less noble nations.
THE END.
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
BECCLES AND LONDON. J. S. & S.
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Transcriber's note:
Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have
been preserved.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.