Grand Armament
Genoese pinchi
(pinques), late 18th century
The Coral War caused an unprecedented surge of public interest in the business of the Genoese state that had not been seen since the bloody suppression of the Revolution of 1750. Outside of the aristocratic elite, few Genoese citizens had any enthusiasm for the long “Corsican War” of 1729-49, and the government had to rely upon a heavy blanket of state censorship. In 1781, however, Genoa was attacked - and attacked in a way that affected Genoese society far beyond the confines of the blue-blooded oligarchy. Common fIshermen and
corallieri had been plundered, which in turn affected shipowners, coral brokers, insurers, and merchants. The tragic loss of the
Nostra Maria della Rosa was seen by Genoese sailors and their families as a deliberate and murderous act. Bonifacio was not some foreign colony, but a city of loyal Genoese citizens who had flown the Genoese flag since the 13th century. Corsican aggression had succeeded in uniting a broad swath of the Genoese public in shared hatred of King Theodore II and his pirate-captains, and a shared desire to defend the territory, prosperity, and honor of their ancient state.
[1]
The Genoese government had dithered after the Battle of Cape Feno, awaiting some sign of rescue from Paris or Vienna, but the sinking of the
Minerva in this context of mounting public patriotism finally shook the government out of its paralysis. Despite the Corsican government’s attempts to suppress the news, rumors had begun spreading soon after the ship ran aground on November 17th, and the
Gazetta Nazionale of Bastia was allowed to confirm the story publicly on the 25th. The disaster was greeted with wild celebrations in the streets of Genoa, where it was hailed as God’s own justice meted out to the butcher Terami. This celebration was followed by a call for action - the Corsican Navy had been weakened, perhaps fatally, and there could be no possible excuse for the government’s apparent inaction. On the 27th, the Serene College ordered the raising of another “extraordinary armament” to come to the city’s rescue.
Now all the government had to do was acquire the necessary ships. The Republic’s “state navy,” the galley fleet, was ill-suited to make a journey of this kind in the winter storm season. The larger ships of the Genoese merchant marine were mainly
pinchi (pinques/pinks) and
sciabecchi (xebecs) which could conceivably be hired, but given what had happened to the
last armament most shipowners were not keen to loan them on the cheap. Patriotism, it seems, only went so far. Foreign ships were scarce given the larger war going on, and they were reluctant to participate in a declared war; the Danish consul went so far as to instruct all captains of his “nation” present in Genoa to stay out of the affair. Moreover, while merchant ships typically had some cannon for self-defense, they would have to be substantially “up-gunned” to turn them into ersatz warships, and the Republic did not exactly have a lot of spare artillery lying around.
In 1742 a Papal bull established the
Compagnia di Nostra Signora del Soccorso contra Infideles (“Company of Our Lady of Help against Infidels”), a Genoese religious foundation meant to raise money through private donations for the purchase and operation of ships to fight the Barbary corsairs. The company’s funds were to be managed by a board known as the
Deputazione del Nuovo Armamento contro i Corsari Barbareschi (“Deputation of the New Armament against the Barbary Corsairs”), whose ships and funds were only to be used for action against the “infidels.” It was an innovative idea to combat the Barbary threat with the use of private funds, although in the crisis years of the late 1740s the Genoese government had succumbed to temptation on numerous occasions and gave secret orders to Deputation captains instructing them to “broaden” their patrols to target Corsican smugglers and privateers.
Now suddenly pressed with the need to assemble a fleet in short order, the government again turned its covetous eyes to the anti-corsair fleet. The Deputation arguably had more of a “navy” than the Genoese state itself, even if it consisted of relatively small ships like brigantines and armed
pinchi. On the 28th, the Serene Council instructed the Deputation to prepare its ships for a “patrol” through the Tyrrhenian Sea which would, entirely coincidentally, involve a stopover at Bonifacio. The members of the Deputation were not stupid, and the Papal bull which had created the Company explicitly threatened excommunication to anyone who used the Company’s money for any purpose other than its sacred mission. But they were also Genoese citizens who were appointed to the Deputation by the Colleges of the Republic, and the pressure on them to comply with this demand was enormous. They accepted the government’s request, although they also insisted that the Republic would eventually have to satisfy the Company - and, presumably, God - by compensating them for all attendant costs.
By December 8th the Genoese had prepared a flotilla consisting of three hired xebecs and five
pinchi carrying provisions, arms, ammunition, and around 150 soldiers under the command of the patrician Giacomo Cattaneo della Volta. Owing to poor weather this flotilla did not actually leave port until the 10th, and after encountering a gale they were forced to turn in at La Spezia on the 11th to make minor repairs to their rigging. The fleet was still at La Spezia on the 13th, making final preparations to depart, when news reached them that Bonifacio had fallen three days before.
Public rage in Genoa quickly focused on the person of Commissioner Domenico Aldovino, but since he was not yet present the citizens had to be satisfied with burning him in effigy.
[2] The government announced that it would certainly charge him with treason upon his return, but privately many of the esteemed patrician magistrates must have been watching the fires with trepidation, wondering whether
their failures might yet land them in the pyre - and perhaps not just in effigy. Much of the patricianate was starting to become less afraid of
losing the war than of a repeat of the uprising of 1750.
Obviously the fleet now waiting at La Spezia could not simply be dissolved, for this would be seen by everyone - particularly the Genoese public - as tantamount to capitulation. Sending it to Bonifacio, however, did not seem practical; the War Office did not believe the Republic had the strength or resources to besiege the city, which would amount to an invasion of the Corsican mainland. Some proposed attempting to hunt down Admiral Lorenzo or breaking up the fleet to escort merchant convoys, but none of those options would meaningfully alter the fundamental fact of the war, which was that Corsica held Genoese territory. The Serene College considered several targets which might give them the leverage they needed, but only one stood out: Capraia.
The island of Capraia is only 70 miles from La Spezia, and with a superior fleet the Genoese believed they could isolate the island, besiege its fortress, and take possession of it. Although perhaps not as great a prize as Bonifacio, it was still home to around 2,000 inhabitants and was the home of many of Corsica’s skilled sailors. Once captured, Capraia could be used as a bargaining chip to compel King Theodore to give up his ill-gotten gains. This change in mission would introduce new problems, as an
invasion was a more complex operation than a mere supply voyage. It would require more ships as well as coordination with the Genoese Army, a small force of questionable merit - and it would be far more expensive.
This change in mission also upset the “understanding” between the government and the Deputation of the New Armament. They had accepted the government’s “wink and nudge” plan to resupply Bonifacio while on a notional anti-corsairing cruise; any Genoese fleet was fully within its rights to stop over at a Genoese city, and if they were attacked that was only the fault of the attackers. Now, however, the government was still holding on to its ships despite the cancellation of the mission, and obvious preparations were being made for a larger military expedition. The Deputation did not know that the target was Capraia, but it was obvious that it had to be
some Corsican town or
presidio, which meant that the Republic would be using funds gathered for the protection of Christendom to directly attack and kill Christians. This proved too much, and on December 24th the Deputation commanded the captains of its ships to return their vessels to their berths. While the Deputation owned
ships, however, it did not own
crews.
Captain Cesare Lomellino belonged to a patrician family, but his life had never been one of aristocratic ease. Little is known about his early career, although he seems to have started it as a young officer in the state navy. After the Treaty of Monaco he had been hired by the Deputation, and over the course of the 1750s he distinguished himself as one of the best naval officers Genoa had produced in generations. He had considered joining the French Navy during the Four Years’ War, but the government of Genoa convinced him to stay by offering him the positions of Captain of the Port of Genoa and Superintendent of the Arsenal. Most men granted such a position of authority would have been satisfied to rest on their laurels, but Lomellino continued to personally lead Deputation patrols against the Barbary corsairs into the 1780s. Something of a naval polymath, he appears to have been equally comfortable in the roles of draftsman and naval administrator as he was upon the quarterdeck of a ship of war.
[A]
Sketch of the Corsican 12-gun tartana "Medusa"
Captain Lomellino had been given command of the xebec
Vendicatore and had been Cattaneo’s second-in-command during the abortive resupply mission. On Christmas morning, sailors loyal to Lomellino took control of several Deputation ships and the captain announced that they were henceforth “conscripted for the public good.” Although his offices of Captain of the Port of Genoa and Superintendent of the Arsenal
did give him authority over the creation of extraordinary armaments, seizing the property off the Deputation was decidedly
not within his remit. But the citizens gathered at the port to cheer him, and it was clear that Lomellino’s “mutiny” had the support of virtually all of the fleet’s sailors and officers. Cattaneo promptly resigned, either because it was clear he no longer controlled the fleet or because he did not want to bear the responsibility for what the government was planning. The Deputation launched an official protest, but on this occasion - either finding its courage or simply seeing which way the wind was blowing - the government responded by suspending the Deputation and commandeering all its ships until the national emergency was over.
The “
grande armamento” which was now assembling was quite possibly the largest Genoese expeditionary fleet since the Battle of Lepanto. By the time it was launched it consisted of fifteen warships - the xebecs
Vendicatore (20 guns),
Veloce (14), and
Giustizia (14), the state galleys
Capitana,
Libertà,
San Giorgio, and
Santa Maria (5 each), the pinque
Nostra Signora del Soccorso (14) and seven other
pinchi of varying armaments (between 5 to 12 each) - as well as at least half a dozen
feluconi or
brigantini of 1 to 3 guns each. The expedition also included a landing force of 480 soldiers including elements of the Italian regiment
Sarzana, the German regiment
Sprecker, and the Swiss regiment
Grenier.
[3]
With Cattaneo’s resignation Captain Lomellino was the only choice to lead this fleet, although the government did not appoint him without some reservations. Certainly they appreciated his talents, even if he had long annoyed them with incessant demands for funding and reform. Yet his recent antics made him look downright
popular, which was dangerous for a man with so much power. It was already unprecedented that one person would be
both Captain of the Port of Genoa and Superintendent of the Arsenal, and to give him the legal authority to lead this endeavor the government further elected him as General of the Galleys and Commissioner-General. They had, in effect, vested the entire responsibility for the conduct of the war in one person: Lomellino’s remit now included the state fleet, the extraordinary fleet, commerce protection, the security of the Port of Genoa, and all coastal defenses and fortifications. This was normally anathema to the Genoese political order; the state’s convoluted system of councils, colleges, offices, and deputations had been specifically designed to prevent power from amassing in the hands of any one individual. But there was simply no other option - and the crowds outside were chanting Lomellino’s name.
The concentration of this fleet was impossible to conceal and the Corsicans soon became aware of it. Genoa’s
plans for the fleet, however, could only be guessed at. Unlike the Genoese, the Corsicans did not think an attempt against Bonifacio was out of the question; the city’s defenses had been degraded by the bombardment, Petriconi’s occupying army had been cut to fewer than 600 men to save money, and the Genoese would be supported by the population. The War Council also identified Capraia and Rogliano as possible targets, as they were remote enough to make a counterattack by the Genoese Army difficult. To prepare for any eventuality, the government recalled its ships on patrol and ordered Admiral Lorenzo to assemble the fleet at Bastia, which consisted of nine sailing warships - the polacres
Lacedemone (18 guns) and
Idra (12), the schooner
Arcipelago (14), the pinques
L’Africano (10) and
Rubea (8),
[4] the armed tartans
Medusa (12),
Ventura (8),
Zeffiro (6), and
Delfino (6) - plus the state galiots
Santa Devota and
Beato Alessandro (3 each) and various gondolas armed with swivels (or, at best, one small carriage gun).
Admiral Lorenzo did not know the exact size and strength of the
grande armamento, but it was clear that if he took on Genoa’s combined fleet he would be outnumbered and probably outgunned. Lorenzo also lacked enough experienced seamen to fully crew all his ships, and neither his sailors nor his officers (nor Lorenzo himself, really) had any experience with a large fleet action - large by the standards of Genoa and Corsica, anyway. If he was patient, however, fortune might even the odds. January weather was not favorable for rowed ships, so Lomellino would be forced to part with his galleys in rough seas. Depending on what his objective was, Lomellino might have to make detachments to blockade Corsican ports or escort supply ships, which would disperse his forces further. For now, Corsica’s most famous pirate waited for an opportunity to take on Genoa’s most famous pirate-hunter.
Footnotes
[1] It must be emphasized that this sentiment was mostly concentrated within the city of Genoa itself. When the Genoese referred to “their state,” they usually meant Genoa
proper; the rest of Liguria under Genoa’s domination was known as “the domain.” While there certainly were fishermen, sailors, and merchants in the coastal cities of the domain who probably felt similarly about Corsican “piracy” and the necessity of government action, most of Genoa’s Ligurian subjects were indifferent to these events, and a few local elites may have even hoped that the Republic’s defeat and humiliation would give them an opportunity to wrest more autonomy from the metropole.
[2] The disgraced commissioner would eventually be imprisoned and charged with treason, but like many defeated Genoese commanders before him Aldovino would ultimately escape punishment. Convicting Aldovino would require a trial, and if Aldovino was put on trial he would surely testify to all the myriad ways in which the government had neglected the city’s defenses and left it dangerously vulnerable. Even if it won the case, the government could only lose by such a spectacle. Aldovino would eventually be quietly released in exchange for disappearing from public life - and from Genoa - forever.
[3] From the reformation of the Genoese Army in the 1750s, the Italian (i.e. Ligurian) regiments were named after their home garrisons (
Savona and
Sarzana) while the foreign regiments continued to bear the names of their commanders (in 1782,
Sprecker and
Grenier). There were also four “independent companies” not part of any regiment: The German company
Real Palazzo, a 200-man guard unit permanently stationed in the capital; two companies of pensioners (“
giubilati”), old soldiers fit only for garrison duty; and an artillery company.
[4]
L’Africano and
Rubea were both captured Genoese pinques. The former was captured in the Galite raid, while the latter was the gunpowder-hauling pinque which surrendered to Captain Terami during the Battle of Cape Feno.
L’Africano was renamed after its capture, presumably in honor of being taken off the African coast, while the
Rubea appears to have kept its original Genoese name.
Timeline Notes
[A] Cesare Lomellino is another historical figure. He might have been entirely forgotten without the accidental discovery of his logbook in the 1950s during the demolition of the Villa Lomellini in Multedo, when someone happened to pick it out of a pile of debris. This 51-page captain’s log details the Genoese reconquest of Capraia from the Paolists in 1767, which was the last Genoese military expedition before the fall of the Republic thirty years later. My account of Lomellino ITTL is similar to his OTL biography - he gained a reputation in the 1750s as an anti-corsair (and occasionally anti-Corsican) captain for the Deputation of the New Armament, apparently considered serving France in the late 1750s, and was enticed to stay by being appointed Captain of the Port of Genoa and Superintendent of the Arsenal. In the 1760s he was given command of a squadron of pinques to fight Paoli’s corsairs. Few other details of his life are known - he is assumed to be from the Multedo branch of the Lomellini family because of where his log was found, but we don’t know who his parents or children (if any) were. We don’t even know when he was born or when he died; given that he captained a ship in the 50s I presume he could not have been born after 1730 or so, and perhaps substantially before then. I
do know, however, that he was still around in 1782, because I just happened to come across a digitized version of a Tuscan gazette from that very year which mentions a “Captain Cesare Lomellino” departing for a cruise against the Barbary corsairs. Assuming that’s not an amazing coincidence, this suggests that Lomellino was still commanding ships in his 50s or 60s.