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| Colonel Pietro Fumel |
Graphically recounting the story of the forgotten victims of the 1863 massacre at Fagnano Castello in Calabria, the author (in an unbroken block of text) presents the tragedy as representative of the repression, humiliation, and cultural erasure inflicted on the Duosiciliano people during and after the Risorgimento.
The invading Savoyard or neo-Italian army, in its attempt to suppress anyone who did not willingly accept the invasion and Italian oppression, decided to quell the uprisings of entire cities whose populations had dared to rebel against the abuse and arrogance of the conquering soldiers, and the fiscal oppression of the newly installed Italian politicians, already thoroughly scoundrels. Thus, they gave free rein to their basest instincts against defenseless populations with decapitations, torture, human burnings, and everything else that the imagination of these "heroes" could devise was turned into reality, giving rise to one of the countless inglorious chapters of the Italian army, incapable of defeating the strong and arrogant and brutal toward the weak. A chapter that historians stubbornly call the "Risorgimento," in hopeful expectation of a day when Italy, "defenseless, divided, humiliated, unfree, and powerless," would be reborn "virtuous, magnanimous, free, and united,"—but which, to this day, it still is not. The true history was censored not out of shame, but out of fear that Europe would discover that what was called a "war against brigandage" was nothing more than a dirty war of conquest, fought not against an equally armed army, but against an army of ragged peasants who only wished to defend what was theirs. Let us remember that even today, the army prohibits public access to its historical archives. It was a true and proper genocide, carried out under precise orders and committed against the peoples of southern Italy.
Refusing to pull punches or obscure the brutality, the article describes in horrifying detail the violent methods (executions, beheadings, and public terror) used by the invading Piedmontese forces, with special attention given to the bloodthirsty Swiss-born Colonel Pietro Fumel (1821–1886).
Following the disastrous unification of Italy, there arose a violent response from the people to the military occupation of the Kingdom, as everyone realized that the situation had drastically worsened. The invading army responded with its worst men, "the butchers," such as Col. Pietro Fumel, who was sent to Calabria (in the province of Cosenza) to suppress "brigandage." The repression carried out by Fumel was merciless, for he employed the most extreme methods to eliminate the partisans of the Two Sicilies, resorting to torture and terror without distinguishing between "brigands" and their supposed ‘supporters,’ and with complete disregard for even the most minimal legal or human guarantees. He decimated the bands of Palma, Schipani, Ferrigno, Morrone, Franzese, Rosacozza, Molinari, Bellusci, and Pinnolo. The executions ordered by Fumel took place in public squares and along roadsides. The victims were decapitated, and their heads impaled as warnings to those who supported or joined the “brigand bands.” Other corpses were thrown into rivers. In Cirò, on February 12, 1862, Fumel issued a proclamation on the resolution of the brigandage problem: “I, the undersigned, having been tasked with destroying brigandage, promise a reward of one hundred lire for every brigand, dead or alive, brought to me. This reward will be given to any brigand who kills a comrade; his life will also be spared. Those who, in defiance of orders, offer refuge or any other means of subsistence or aid to the brigands, or who, having seen them or knowing their hiding place, do not inform the troops and the civil and military authorities, will be immediately executed by firing squad. All uninhabited rural huts must be unroofed and their entrances bricked up within three days. It is forbidden to transport bread or other provisions beyond municipal residences, and anyone disobeying this order will be considered a brigand accomplice.”
The article also denounces the public honors later bestowed on Fumel despite international outrage:
Fumel’s brutal methods aroused the indignation of European public opinion, and, pushed mainly by protests from both the Italian and British parliaments, the government eventually decided to remove him from office. Victor Emmanuel II, another coarse butcher, defended Fumel’s actions and awarded him the silver medal for military valor. But far more serious was the gratitude of the turncoat southern liberals, who granted him honorary citizenship in three Calabrian towns: Roseto Capo Spulico and Amendolara in 1862, and San Marco Argentano in 1863. Fumel later stayed in Rome, hoping to be appointed senator for life by the Savoyard sovereign, but the devil, three years after the massacre, summoned him to join his most loyal collaborators, and he died before he could hope to receive the appointment.
The pairing of Fagnano with Pontelandolfo (as noted in the title) is particularly impactful because the latter is a more universally recognized site of repression following unification. It also makes clear that these were not isolated incidents. Part of a broader campaign of conquest and colonization, Southern identity, language, and autonomy were systematically dismantled by a new ruling elite often ignorant of or hostile to the South.
And yet, these soldiers, their monarchs, and their politicians—many of whom did not even know the rest of the Peninsula and spoke almost exclusively in French—are still spoken of as liberators of the southern people from oppression, or as Italian patriots concerned with the fate of their southern "brothers" under the foreign yoke of the Bourbons, who were themselves almost all born in Naples and who, in addition to Italian, had always spoken Neapolitan fluently.
More than blind regionalism, the article offers a compelling appeal to historical memory. Not only does it recount the past, it also urges readers to confront and recognize its consequences, from mass emigration to lasting cultural alienation. Evocative, impassioned, and at times raw, it directly challenges the historically biased Northern narrative of Italian unity.
The echo of this edict reached even London, where Member of Parliament Lord Alexander Baillie-Cochrane declared that "a more infamous proclamation had never dishonored the worst days of the Reign of Terror in France." Even his closest collaborator, Officer Auguste de Rivarol, was appalled by Fumel’s actions, to the point of recording his thoughts on the colonel’s atrocities in his memoir Nota storica sulla Calabria. Deputy Giuseppe Ricciardi stated before Parliament on April 18, 1863: "This Colonel Fumel boasts of having had about three hundred people shot—brigands and non-brigands alike." Even the Garibaldian butcher of Bronte, Nino Bixio, admitted: "A system of blood has been inaugurated in Southern Italy," and many other army commanders distanced themselves from Fumel’s decisions. But he came most prominently (and infamously) into the public eye in the winter of 1863 due to the execution of around one hundred citizens of Fagnano Castello deemed brigands by the armed forces. Were they all brigands? Certainly, many were defenseless poor peasants; of the 27 citizens officially recorded as executed, death certificates have been found showing they included respected figures of the Fagnanese community, such as a former mayor and notary, as well as a few landowners. Yet the dreaded Colonel Fumel also served another function, indirect but no less significant: through his fierce and undeniably effective repression of "brigands" and their "supporters," he certainly helped swell the migratory tide from the Two Sicilies—crushed by poverty, occupation, and fear (informants, betrayals, brutal police actions, and general hostility and dread toward that remote yet ever-threatening entity, the new Savoyard government)—to the Americas.
Blending lamentation with fierce indictment, this account will undoubtedly prove jarring for the faint of heart, particularly effete bourgeois academics and ideologues. Seeking to rouse readers from passive indifference, it brings long-suppressed memories and injustice to the fore.
In Fagnano Castello in 1863, one hundred people were massacred in a single day. More than 152 years later, on August 16, 2015, Fagnano commemorated the victims of that absurd Piedmontese barbarity with a plaque in their honor, in the hope that it might at least bring some solace to those poor souls. Now that we know our history, we have a moral and identity-bound duty to fight to restore our connection to our homeland—an identity that was torn, dismembered, and dishonored the moment the Garibaldian and Savoyard invasion occurred.
In sum, La strage di Fagnano Castello is a valuable contribution to the growing body of literature seeking to recover the suppressed stories of Southern Italy. Both a historical reckoning and a moral appeal, it is an urgent call to remember, reflect, and rebuild a sense of identity torn apart by bayonets, lies, and indifference. A must-read for anyone interested in post-unification history, subaltern memory, and the long shadows of state violence.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 25th, Feast of San Giacomo Apostolo
* Translations are my own
