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| Cardinal Fabrizio Dionigi Ruffo b. Sept. 16, 1744—d. Dec. 13, 1827 |
A Brief Introduction to the Sanfedisti
Pro Lege. Pro Rege ~ Sanfedisti Motto [1]In Catholic monarchist circles, the Vendeans, Carlists, Papal Zouaves, and Cristeros are often cited as exemplary defenders of faith, order, and legitimate authority in the age of revolution. Far less familiar—particularly in the anglophone world—are the counter-revolutionary forces of Southern Italy, chiefly Cardinal Fabrizio Dionigi Ruffo and the Armata Cristiana e Reale della Santa Fede in Nostro Signore Gesù Cristo, [2] commonly known as the Sanfedisti. This neglect is notable given that Ruffo’s army was not only mobilized on a mass scale but also succeeded in restoring the Bourbon monarchy to the Kingdom of Naples. Other Italian counter-revolutionary movements, such as the Centurioni of Le Marche, [3] have also been marginalized in historical memory, but few achieved comparable political or military results.
The marginalization of the Sanfedisti is not accidental. It reflects a broader pattern of miseducation and partisan historical framing, shaped by the long dominance of liberal-nationalist interpretations of Italian history. Accounts of the Neapolitan Revolution of 1799 have largely been filtered through narratives established by ideologically committed historians such as Vincenzo Cuoco and Pietro Colletta. Within this framework, the Sanfedisti are routinely depicted as backward, irrational, superstitious, or inherently repressive. These oft-repeated characterizations continue to influence both popular and academic understandings of the period.
As with many episodes that complicate modern political mythology, these interpretations warrant closer scrutiny. They were formulated, in large part, to discredit the Bourbon dynasty of Naples and to retrospectively legitimize revolutionary intervention. Much of what passes for “conventional wisdom” about the Sanfedisti rests on selective outrage, rhetorical exaggeration, and the suppression of inconvenient evidence. When contemporary accounts are examined more carefully, and when testimony from both supporters and opponents is considered, a markedly different picture emerges—one in which the Sanfedisti appear not as a marginal eruption of fanaticism, but as a broad and largely popular response to foreign invasion, institutional collapse, and ideological rule imposed by force.
The Events Leading up to the Sanfedisti Uprising
In 1798, French forces invaded the Papal States and proclaimed the Roman Republic. Pope Pius VI refused to recognize the new regime and was arrested and deported to Valence, France, where he died in captivity on August 29, 1799. The revolutionary penchant for suppressing religious orders, widespread looting, violence against civilians, and systematic requisitions to fill Napoleon’s exchequer quickly alienated the population. Popular uprisings followed, but they were suppressed with force.
The Neapolitan royal family had direct reason to fear the expansion of revolutionary France. Several close relatives had already been murdered during the French Revolution, including King Ferdinand IV’s cousin King Louis XVI, Queen Maria Carolina’s sister Marie Antoinette, and the young Dauphin Louis-Charles, who died in captivity after prolonged abuses way too vile to recount here. These, and other horrific events, shaped the court’s perception of revolutionary power and its intentions.
Queen Maria Carolina, long depicted in revolutionary and later nationalist historiography as vindictive, manipulative, or fanatically reactionary, was in fact a politically astute ruler operating within the existential framework of the age. The execution of her sister Marie Antoinette and the collapse of allied thrones were not abstract events but personal and dynastic catastrophes. Her alignment with Britain and Austria reflected strategic calculation rather than hysteria. While she exercised considerable influence over policy—particularly after 1793—such involvement was neither unusual nor illegitimate for a queen consort in eighteenth-century Europe. The caricature of Maria Carolina as the architect of Neapolitan “reaction” owes more to partisan narrative than to balanced assessment.
Encouraged by his British and Austrian allies, Ferdinand IV joined a coalition effort to expel the French from Rome and restore papal authority. The king accompanied the army northward under the command of Austrian General Karl Mack von Lieberich. The French initially withdrew without resistance, and the Neapolitans were welcomed into Rome as liberators. Revolutionary symbols, including the recently erected trees of liberty, were torn down amid public celebration. This success, however, proved temporary. French forces regrouped and rapidly retook the city. The Neapolitan army, hampered by poor leadership and internal betrayal, collapsed and retreated southward.
Some historians later argued that Ferdinand’s decision to intervene precipitated the invasion of Naples itself, suggesting that restraint might have preserved peace. [4] Such claims rest on a questionable assumption—that revolutionary France, already engaged in territorial expansion across Europe, would have voluntarily respected Neapolitan neutrality.
Hostilities, in fact, predated the Roman campaign. Neapolitan forces had already been drawn into open conflict with revolutionary France during the siege of Toulon in 1793, fighting alongside British and Spanish troops in defense of the royalist city. This state of undeclared war continued and escalated following the French seizure of Malta in 1798, when Neapolitan, Portuguese, and British forces assisted the Maltese in expelling the invaders. As Harold Acton observed, the presence of revolutionary regimes along Naples’s borders, combined with the persecution of the papacy and the seizure of Malta, made the prospect of isolation increasingly implausible.
“In spite of the peace treaty with France, the presence of such neighbours across the frontier alarmed the King and Queen, and all Naples was outraged by the persecution of the Pope. Why should the Two Sicilies be spared when all the rest of Italy had been overrun? Bonaparte’s seizure of Malta in June seemed another preliminary to the encirclement of Naples.” [5]It seems the King’s decision to attack was justifiable, after all. Unfortunately, the French were better trained, more experienced, and had superior leadership than the Neapolitans. According to contemporary historian Carlo De Nicola, French General Jean-Étienne Championnet said as much after his conquest of Naples:
“Championnet later said that, during his nine years of fighting, he had never encountered mass resistance equal to that of the Neapolitans…He stated that if the Neapolitans were disciplined, they would be the ultimate soldiers.” [6]General Paul Thiébault similarly emphasized the ferocity of popular resistance following the collapse of the regular army, observing that the conflict became most dangerous precisely when formal military structures had ceased to function:
“The Neapolitans taught us to fear them as men. One might say, in fact, that the struggle for Naples only became terrifying after the Neapolitan army had ceased to exist. Although these Neapolitans had been beaten everywhere, and not counting the losses sustained during the early fighting, had suffered [many tens of thousands of casualties],…we were unable to vanquish them completely within the walls of their city or amid the ashes of their homes.” [7]Later historians drew similar conclusions. Reflecting on the transformation of the Neapolitan populace under Bourbon rule, Michelangelo Schipa remarked:
“How unlike their ancestors,” remarked Schipa, “those who had offered cakes and kisses to the Austrian soldiers in 1707 and given the Spanish an ovation in 1734! In half a century, the Bourbons had transformed sheep into heroes: their resistance did honor to the monarchy.” [8]As French forces advanced, Ferdinand IV retreated first to Naples and then to Sicily aboard the HMS Vanguard. Often omitted from the histories, during the flight, the royal family suffered the death of their six-year-old son, Prince Alberto, who died of exhaustion in the arms of Lady Hamilton during a terrifying gale on Christmas Day. [9] It is difficult to imagine that the King and Queen forgot this painful tragedy when they returned to their thrones, and the memory surely weighed on their judgment when the time came to mete out justice against those who had delivered their Kingdom to the French.
The king’s decision to remove the treasury has often been criticized, [10] yet it deprived the occupying regime of immediate access to state finances and constrained its ability to consolidate power. The contrast with 1860 is instructive. When Ferdinand’s great-grandson, King Francesco II, left the treasury intact, the Garibaldini and Piedmontese invaders were able to pilfer the Kingdom’s coffers for their own advantage and use the spoils to help finance their brutal conquests or pay off their massive debts to international financiers. Revolutions do not require popular legitimacy to succeed; they require institutional control.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli
Footnotes:
[1] For the law. For the King.
[2] Christian and Royal Army of the Holy Faith in Our Lord Jesus Christ.
[3] Reinerman, Alan J., The Failure of Popular Counter-Revolution in Risorgimento Italy: The Case of the Centurions, 1831-1847, The Historical Journal, 34, I (1991), pp. 21-41.
[4] Robertson, John, Enlightenment and Revolution: Naples 1799, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, Vol. 10, 2000, pp. 17-44, Published by Cambridge University Press.
[5] Acton, Harold, The Bourbons of Naples, Methuen and Co., Ltd., 1957.
[6] Santore, John, ed. Modern Naples: A Documentary History, 1799-1999, Italica Press, 2008.
[7] Ibid. Brackets appear in Santore’s transcription.
[8] Acton, Harold, The Bourbons of Naples, Methuen and Co., Ltd., 1957.
[9] Ibid.
[10] Robertson, John, Enlightenment and Revolution: Naples 1799, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, Vol. 10, 2000, pp. 17-44, Published by Cambridge University Press.
