From Corsica to the Fourth Rome

Facing dozens of pairs of expectant eyes, Mr. Coggello was not nervous. He just smiled calmly and reached down to signal the questioner not to worry.

The purpose for him and a group of finance ministry bureaucrats to go south with the army was to implement and promote these two bills. Therefore, Mr. Coggero was already prepared for these questions, so after briefly recalling the relevant data, he answered in a familiar manner:

"The specific rate of land tax will vary depending on various factors, but the average rate will be around 15% and will never exceed 20%."

As soon as the words fell, the townspeople swallowed subconsciously and whispered among themselves, their voices full of disbelief:

"What do you mean? Do we only have to hand over 20% of our harvest at most?"

"It seems like this...it can't really be such a good thing..."

"I sure as hell haven't woken up yet!"

"The autumn harvest is coming soon. If we really only have to hand over less than 20% of the crops to the government..."

…

None of the townspeople could hide the look of shock on their faces. Mr. Coggello's words made them feel a dream-like sense of unreality.

The highest tax rate is only 20%?

There was a sudden intake of breath at the scene.

Not to mention the serfs and tenant farmers who were oppressed by the landlords, even the very few free farmers who owned their own land couldn't help but cheered after hearing this.

After all, these free farmers had to hand over nearly 40% of their income to the corrupt officials in the city hall.

Many shrewd townspeople were shocked and had already begun to plan for the upcoming autumn harvest. If Mr. Coggero said it was true, then the next year would probably be the first year in many people's lives that they could completely fill their crops. A year of full bellies.

Joy, joy, surprise, and disbelief were all the expressions on the faces of the townspeople present.

Seeing everyone's stunned expressions, Mr. Coggello was not surprised. After all, even he himself looked in disbelief when he heard the tax rate requested by Lord Bonaparte.

You should know that although Corsica is a governor-general republic in political form, its economic form is still no different from a traditional feudal agricultural society.

Under this economic system, the bulk of the country's fiscal revenue comes from these farmers who work hard in the fields. Whether agriculture is going smoothly is directly related to the life and death of the entire country.

According to Mr. Coggero’s estimate, the land tax rate must reach at least 40% to maintain fiscal balance and slowly make up for the previous deficit. This is without considering the losses in the tax collection process.

If a subordinate of the Ministry of Finance actually proposed a tax rate of 15%, Mr. Coggero felt that he would scold him bloody and kick him out of the Ministry of Finance.

But this was the strong request of Governor Bonaparte, and the domesticated Minister of Finance had no choice but to comply and write it clearly in the text of the bill.

In fact, Lawrence also had his own considerations in setting this low tax rate.

In the short term of three to five years, Corsica's financial problems can be solved by the National Silver Company attracting investment on the Paris Stock Exchange, and there may even be a large financial surplus, just like the 10 million livres currently in Lawrence's hands. .

What Lawrence has to do during this period is to use investment funds from Paris and the trade route from Marseille to Ajaccio to promote the industrialization and marketization of Corsica.

Just as later generations of Saudi Arabians were able to use their money to build the prosperous city of Dubai in the desert, Lawrence was sure to use these unique conditions, coupled with his own historical and technological knowledge, to build Corsica into a city in a short period of time. A prosperous industrial country.

By then, the land tax collected from the countryside would no longer be so financially important.

While everyone present was immersed in boundless joy, a town citizen suddenly woke up. He timidly raised his hand and asked carefully after getting Mr. Coggello's permission:

"But my lord... you said that you want to allocate the master's land to ourselves and keep the master's harvest for ourselves... but will the master accept this?"

The words awakened the dreamers, and a trace of worry immediately flashed on the expressions of the serfs. Yes, if these two bills become a dead letter due to the obstruction of the landowners, what is the point?

A question arises in everyone's mind:

"The political voice of gentlemen is countless times that of serfs like myself. Will Governor Bonaparte really risk angering the landlords to show favor to him?"

The answer to their questions was a sudden shout:

"Compatriots! Brothers and sisters!"

The speaker was the lieutenant officer in charge of the escort. He walked steadily among the crowd, exchanged glances with Mr. Cogelo, and said in a loud voice:

"What I want to tell you is that Governor Bonaparte said in the army very early that he did not want any more landowners to exist in Corsica. Now, all the Corsican soldiers have come to Proto Priano. We are here to implement Monsieur Bonaparte's will, to eliminate those evil blood-sucking insects, and to liberate all compatriots like you!"

Under the gaze of everyone, the lieutenant cleared his throat and said impassionedly:

"You are lucky, because the landowners who oppressed you have bowed before the army, and no one can ride on your neck anymore! Celebrate, brothers! Set today as a holiday, brothers! What we bring is not a piece of paper, what we bring is the most precious thing - your freedom and liberation, and our pace will not stop here. We will move forward until there is no more Corsica! Serfs and landowners, our goal will be achieved; until everyone can stand up and call themselves free people, we will not disarm ourselves!"

Silence, deathly silence, but this is not the kind of insensitive silence, more like the tranquility in the accumulation of storm.

Suddenly, a faint cheer came from somewhere in the town. It was obvious that the bureaucrats there had finished explaining the contents of the two bills to the townspeople.

This burst of cheers was like igniting a powder keg, completely arousing the hearts of the citizens of Propriano that had been suppressed for decades.

"Oh oh oh!"

"This day actually happened!"

"I'm not fucking dreaming, am I?!"

Wave after wave of cheers resounded throughout the town. The heartfelt shouts of the townspeople could be heard in every street, every corner, and wherever there were people.

For decades and generations, with endless grievances and unwillingness, from the Governor of Genoa to the Governor of Paoli, the serfs never saw a glimmer of light in the endless darkness of their lives.

Now, on this ordinary day, the gears of fate began to turn.

Governor Lawrence Bonaparte, originally this name was just like St. Paul and St. Nero to the serfs, just an illusory figure in legends.

From now on, this name has undoubtedly been equated with the liberator among villages and towns.

Mr. Coggello clutched the reins tightly in his hands and basked in the cheers of the townspeople.

A few months ago, when Governor Bonaparte proposed to him the plan for the reform of agricultural taxes, Mr. Cogello could never have imagined that a day like this would come.

Seeing the townspeople cheering from the bottom of their hearts, the Finance Minister, who had been at the top for a long time, suddenly felt a little moved, and seemed to understand Lord Bonaparte's intentions.

…

Bureaucrats from the Ministry of Finance quickly announced the contents of the two bills to the municipalities and their subordinate villages.

The entire Propriano also naturally fell into a carnival. After all, a group that accounted for about 90% of the population of this town had just obtained their liberation.

The serfs loudly sang a traditional folk song praising resistance, and broke into the houses of the landowners who had been detained by Lawrence. They moved out all the tons of food and grain wine from the cellars and placed them in the town. and the village square for the enjoyment of passers-by.

Along with the food and wine, there were also deeds of sale and leases that could fill several large boxes.

Under the instructions of Mr. Coggero, these deeds that were abolished by the Land Act turned into a pile of waste paper and were thrown directly into the bonfire set up in the square by the angry serfs.

These leases that recorded exploitation and blood and tears burned more and more in the fire, and soon turned into a pile of gray-black embers, with wisps of green smoke rising into the sky against the golden sunshine.

The serfs gathered around the bonfire, singing songs or dancing, enjoying the first afternoon after liberation.

Under Lawrence's instruction, this hearty carnival continued until the evening.

It was not until the carnival was about to turn into a fanatical revenge against all landowners that Lawrence ordered a thousand Wehrmacht soldiers to be stationed in towns and villages to maintain order and assist Treasury bureaucrats in the immediate census and household registration.

Meanwhile, in the military camp outside Propriano

"You should really see the scene in the town with your own eyes, Monsieur Bonaparte."

Major Cui Farley, who had just finished his inspection of the town on horseback, returned to the camp. As soon as he opened the curtain of the headquarters, he excitedly shouted to Lawrence:

"I dare say that your reputation here has surpassed that of any king or emperor. Even drunkards on the street are still talking about your name. Even the pastor of the local church has suggested that everyone call you Saint Lawrence. ”

Lawrence, who was looking through the report, raised his head and nodded with some laughter. Needless to say, he could basically guess what happened given the situation outside.

Major Trifali stretched out with a comfortable expression, and seemed to be still immersed in the carnival atmosphere in the town. It was not until he walked into the tent and glanced at the report in front of Lawrence that he became a little more serious:

"Monsignor Bonaparte, is this... a report from the south?"

Lawrence nodded slightly, pointed to the empty seat next to him and motioned for the major to sit down, and briefly explained:

"The news I just received is that the number of troops from the southern landowners has definitely reached 10,000. They have been fully armed and divided into three squads to conduct live ammunition training day and night."

As he spoke, Lawrence took out the map from under the report, pointed to several marked points and added:

"Their fortifications are generally completed. Here, earthen stone walls have been built on several main roads leading to the town of Figari."

"Hiss..." Looking at the several locations pointed by Lawrence, Major Trifari suddenly took a breath of air. As a veteran, he knew exactly what this meant.

You know, the center of Corsica is a huge mountain range extending from north to south, and only the coastal area is a gentle plain.

This means that the army's march route can almost only be planned along the seaside plains, otherwise it will have to go through the inaccessible mountains and deep forests with high losses.

Therefore, once the enemy builds defense fortifications in coastal areas to defend it, it will inevitably hinder the offensive of the National Defense Forces.

"Their fortifications are all temporary, and it is not impossible for the National Defense Forces to advance." Major Cui Fali, realizing the seriousness of the problem, immediately began to analyze:

"But that would be a waste of time."

"The last thing we can't waste is time." Lawrence answered with approval:

"The National Defense Forces already lack heavy firepower. There are only twelve small-caliber artillery with the army. The opponent still has a numerical advantage. Maybe even the advance will not be that smooth, and..."

Halfway through Lawrence's words, an imperceptible suspicion flashed across his eyes, and he slowly added:

"The other party acted too quickly and professionally. Whether it was arming serfs, hoarding supplies, building fortresses, or training new soldiers, these actions are not something that a group of landowners who eat, drink and have fun all day can do in a short time..."

"You mean...?" Major Trifali frowned, as if he didn't understand what Lawrence meant:

"These people have been preparing for rebellion for a long time...?"

Lawrence shook his head:

"It would be simple if this is the case, but this possibility is extremely slim. The southern landowners have only recently gathered together, and there has been no abnormal behavior before. It is impossible for them to obtain enough weapons so easily under my nose. Weapons and equipment for tens of thousands of people.”

"That means?!" Major Cui Farley finally understood and suddenly said:

“It’s not just the landowners who are involved in this rebellion?”

"It should be said that there are not only Corsicans." Lawrence played with his saber and looked at the map solemnly:

"If someone is really behind this, then the landlords must hope to confront us to the end, and wait until their troops receive sufficient training and supplies before engaging in a decisive battle."

Major Cui Farley knew the seriousness of the problem and clenched his fist tightly and said:

"Lord Bonaparte, if that is the case, we must not delay it any longer, otherwise the risk of a decisive battle will become greater and greater. I propose to launch the army and start marching towards the town of Figari tomorrow morning!"

"It is true that we cannot confront them to the end."

Regarding the first half of the major's sentence, Lawrence nodded in approval.

This civil war must be resolved quickly, not only from a strategic perspective, but also from a political perspective.

Now Corsica is about to become a jewel on King Louis's scepter. At this juncture, a rebellion must not be allowed to delay the process, which will only incur King Louis' wrath.

Moreover, Lawrence knew that he could not expect to bring in large numbers of reinforcements from France. After all, once a large number of foreign troops took control of Corsica, it would be him, the governor, or the French who would have the final say on this small island. But It’s hard to say.

Therefore, Lawrence had to use, and could only use, the six thousand troops at hand to completely defeat the southern rebels in a short period of time.

But compared to Major Trifari's suggestion of launching an attack immediately, Lawrence believed there was a better, bloodless method.

"No, the army will continue to be stationed in Propriano until it assists the Ministry of Finance in handling all matters."

Lawrence shook his head and ordered unequivocally:

"Water flows downwards, but people's hearts flow upwards. As long as we handle things properly here, Figari will naturally become the second Propriano."