A rambling history of Sgurgola & it’s people

Sgurgola. The first time I heard the name I thought it sounded like a stomach rumble, which is actually very appropriate when you take into consideration the mouth watering aromas that waft out of hidden kitchens as you wander through the maze of crumbling alleyways, winding around the ancient Rocca fortress, on a Sunday afternoon.

This town has been here forever. Legend has it that Sgurgola was founded by Spartacus, the great rebel gladiator who led the Third Servile war in c.71 B.C. Many of the names of its landmarks imply that this claim has a grain of truth, for example the ancient Fonte Capuani (Capuani Spring) that can be found a few hundred meters below the town’s ancient walls, or Via Idi di
Marzo (Ides of March Street) leading up towards the cemetery on the hill. With its prime vantage over the Sacco Valley below Sgurgola would have definitely been a choice spot for the rebel slaves, both for attack and defence, as they battled up and down central Italy. It is certainly very possible that at least a few of Spartacus’ many followers – known as the Capuani (it’s estimated there were over 100,000 of them!) – choose to put down roots in Sgurgola when the conflict came to a close. The slave army would have had women and children and livestock in tow, and perhaps they became the first refugees to Sgurgola to scrape out a life on the fertile slopes of the mountain after the uprising was done away with. This theory may also explain, at least in part, the rebellious fighting spirit that is still characteristic of the people of Sgurgola, rebels to a fault, sometimes even without a cause, ready and willing to discuss and debate with voices raised, willing to stand up and shout that black is blue if they have to.

There have been people living on the Lepini mountainside where Sgurgola stands since ancient times. Burial remains dating back to eolithic times have been found here, as are records of the mighty Italic tribe the Volsci who held dominion over the ground where Sgurgola is perched. The Volsci were a proud, warlike tribe who were respected for their agricultural skill and also their strength in battle. Volsci women fought alongside the men, and while other Italic tribes made pacts with the Romans, the Volsci chose to fight them off tooth and nail.

The Volsci waged war against the Romans for over two hundred years before they were finally conquered and assimilated into Rome, around 300 B.C. The tribe was decimated, but those who escaped continued to live on the Lepini mountainside. The land was fertile and the mountain, as always, gave protection. Perhaps these were the people who were living on the mountain when Spartacus and his rebel gladiators from Capua took refuge in these mountains a couple of hundred years after the Volsci were vanquished. Perhaps those who remained found affinity with the rebel Capuani ex-slaves because they too resented Rome, and this hatred united a community that was to later become known later in history as Sgurgola.

One thing that is sure is that the community on this site continued on as the ages passed. Centuries after the Volsci, centuries after Spartacus, the young man who was to become the Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius used to come to stay at Villa Magna (c. 140 a.d.), the great estate that spreads out below Sgurgola at the bottom of the mountain. The wealth of objects catalogued during the excavation of the ruins at Villa Magna pay testament to the site’s importance. Marcus Aurelius came for the wine harvest and to eat wild boar, two things that are almost as important today in Sgurgola as they were then. History rolls on but the mountain remains.

Over time the settlement continued to grow, its value really coming to the fore during the Barbarian Invasions of the 4^th Century a. D., when people from the surrounding towns fled to Sgurgola for refuge. Again Sgurgola’s strategic vantage point, pinioned high above the Sacco Valley, was invaluable and essential to their survival. Towns were sacked, people were slain, but Sgurgola (although it may not have been known by that name as yet) offered refuge in the shadow of the mountain and its people survived.

The barbarian invasions heralded the end of the great Roman Empire, and in its place rose the Holy Roman Empire and the power of the Papal State. Sgurgola’s fertile land became dominion of the Popes of Rome who in turn appointed feudal Lords who used the surfs to work the land. By the medieval period the settlement had an imposing Rocca (fortress castle) that dominated the town, and had come to be known as ‘Sculcola’, which means “look out”. As always, the Rocca (fortress) gave an optimum view of the countryside stretched out below, and of course any approaching threats. From little of the Rocca that remains, with its 360° view, you can see most of the important towns of Ciociaria – Anangi, Frosinone, Alatri, Fiugi, Fumone, Morolo.

Around the fortress castle grew a garrison town with all the vibrant chaos that came along with it. Peasants worked the fields for the feudal Lords, and came home to roost in tiny row houses carved deep into the limestone rock face. It’s narrow, winding walkways still ring around the Rocca, with vertical staircases that emerge through cracks in the city walls. These suggestive alleyways are called the “il buco peliccio” – literal translation being “the hole in the sieve” – i.e. “the colander”- again very appropriate as this is where the handmade pasta of the region – sagne, fini-fini and gnocchetti – came into being. People worked the fields all day and then would treck home up the steep slopes to the base of the towns’ wall, produce strapped to their mules that were housed in the grottos below. Mules were more sturdy than horses, more willing than donkeys, and an essential part of working the land here in Sgurgola, much of which was inaccessible without.

It is very possible that Sgurgola’s name also came from another source, quite literally. Like its neighbour on the other side of the mountain, Gorga, ‘Sgurgola’ may have emerged from the term Sgorga (to gush, or flow), which seems very likely when you take into account the many springs that flow out of the mountain in Sgurgola, chilled, pristine, gushing straight out of the white limestone of the mountain. Sgurgola was known for it’s public baths where the women would gather water and wash clothes. These “baths” were touchstones for the town. Women would gather there to wash and of course to gossip. They would cart the water back to their homes in large copper urns – ‘conche’ – that they balanced on their heads. These were the formidable women of Ciociaria – strong, beautiful, unforgiving – immortalised in the romantic paintings of the 1800s of artists on the Grand Tour.

Fact is, the people who called Sgurgola home, who lived and worked the land here, had to be strong to survive. Life was hard for the peasants who lived here. They toiled. They were born with nothing, and died with nothing. The soil was fertile, rich, black, abundant. The people who owned the land made money with what it produced, but always off the backs of the people who worked it. Anagni, the city you can see on the other side of the valley, was altogether different. It was the City of the Popes. There were veneers of ‘society’ in Anagni and social heights to attain. Sgurgola however was a wild place, full of fiercely strong peasants who were full of heart and strength because they had to survive. Sgurgola was the place that fed the powerful. It sent wine, oil, grain, grapes to the tables of Rome. Sgurgola was even famous for providing the best wet nurses to suckle the children of the rich – voluptuous, strong, beautiful Ciociarian women. But the rich and powerful didn’t come to Sgurgola. They didn’t build big manor houses or villas in the shadow of the mountain, they just took the tributes of the peasants who lived here and pocketed the profits, and as such the culture of Sgurgola remained resoundingly and fiercely working class.

Quite simply Sgurgola was used to bankroll the excesses of the popes and their entourage, and the discontent this bred lead to one of the events that wrote Sgurgola into history. Legend has it that the uprising against Pope Bonifacio VIII, the last Pope whose court rotated between Rome and Anagni, was mounted from Sgurgola. The assault known as “the Anagni Slap” occurred in September 1303 and ultimately changed the course of Papal history. Bonifacio VIII liked to meddle in politics, property and power plays and his actions came back to bite him quite literally when Phillip IV of France, who the Pope had decided to excommunicate because he didn’t toe the line, decided to send his men on a mission to bring the meddlesome Pope down. The conspirators found fertile ground for support in Sgurgola. The feudal lord of Sgurgola had been manipulated into ceding his fiefdom to the Pope’s nephew for a pitiful price on pain of facing eternal damnation from heaven. The displaced Lord, his relatives, the Lords of neighbouring fiefdoms and most importantly the peasants of Sgurgola were extremely angry about the Pope’s actions. The conspirators gathered a lynching squad of nearly 2000 men to attack the Pope at his residence across the valley in Anagni, riding out from Sgurgola to attack at dawn and shouting “Death to the Pope! Long Live the King of France!”. The Pope survived the assault, but died a couple of weeks later, after returning to Rome. The Pope who succeeded him moved the Papal court to Avignon in France, and thus ended Anagni’s pivotal role in the story of the Papal states. It is in memory of these events that the main road that enters Sgurgola is called Pietra Rea (Guilty Stone) and Piazza dell’Aringo (for the call to arms in piazza to rally the troops).

The story of the people of Sgurgola continued on relatively unchanged for centuries from this point on. The Feudal lords changed occasionally as the power plays continued, the population grew and the original settlement radiated out from the old part of town around the Rocca, down the hill towards via Pietra Rea and the Carpine spring towards the cemetery.

At the beginning of the 1800s real change came for the population in the form of the abolition of the feudal state. By this point in history the beginnings of the industrial revolution were being felt across Europe. The French Revolution played out and was followed by the Napoleonic wars, and eventually, after a time of massive social change and instability in which Sgurgola was a hotbed of brigandry and agitation, Garibaldi succeeded in achieving the unification of Italy.

The coming of the railway in the mid 1800s connected Sgurgola directly to Rome and Napoli, and also trade to Europe. Factories started to appear in the valley where grain had been grown for centuries, and the peasant people of Sgurgola began looking beyond the borders of ciociaria for a better life. Many moved to Rome. Many immigrated abroad. Many worked for the state railways, which became a tradition for Sgurgolani. They took with them the proud and rustic working class Ciociarian culture. They worked hard and played hard. Amazingly for such a small population, Sgurgola even became firmly embedded into the vernacular across Italy with the slightly insulting phrase “Sei della Sgurgola?” (“What, are you from Sgurgola?”) being used to make fun of a person when the display peasant like, uncouth, unsophisticated behaviour, a world away from the “cultured” world of Rome. Many Italians in fact know the phrase and its sardonic meaning, but don’t know its actually based on a very real town! Today the phrase has become less of an insult and more of an affirmation. I know I for one would rather be a rebellious peasant than a slave to conformity!

The complex culture of the ‘common people’ in Sgurgola, the contradictory nature of the strength of the oppressed, is in fact exactly what makes Sgurgola so fascinating. Its story is full of dramatic irony and the tragedy of life. Sgurgolani are passionate and bold, brave and hard working. There is resentment towards those who succeed in rising above, but also a fierce pride. They have a depreciating sense of humour and an innate distrust of flattery, but they passionately love their mountain, their town and their culture. They have been here – surviving – forever, and it will be part of them forever. Even if they leave it’s woven into their DNA and it calls them back. Perhaps it is because of this they are also a fiercely political people, although often demonstrating a lack of strategic diplomacy, with a tendency to get bogged down in the infighting rather than focusing on finding sustainable solutions.

Sgurgolani have no qualms calling a spade a spade, and are ready to defend their point of view at the top of their voice in the bar or the piazza. It’s common practice to pick fights and bicker – it’s part of the spice of life, as is recounting the ‘cazzi degli altri’ (politely translated as ‘other people’s business’). On the flip side, Sgurgolani are always ready to band together to achieve a common goal or when they need to defend themselves from an outside threat, and I’ve been surprised more than once by acts of humanity and generosity that emerge when they are least expected and most needed. That’s what jumps out at you when you listen to their stories of WWII, when the German fascists set up shop in Sgurgola and there was widespread persecution of the local population. It was a complicated time, with right against left, blood against blood, fascists and partisans, but the people of Sgurgola stood together irrespective of all that and helped each other to survive. Together – for better or for worse.

Even today the Sgurgolani resent oppression, and they are fiercely proud of their heritage. The Festa Dell’Uva is the longest running public celebration of its kind in Italy, having run for almost a hundred years, and all differences are forgotten as young and old come together to celebrate Ciociarian culture for the three days of food, wine, dancing and singing in the streets. Sgurgola knows how to throw a party for the people.

This is perhaps what I love the most about Sgurgola. It is a town in which you can still hear echoes of the true ancestors of Ciociaria. How they lived. How they ate. How they drank. How they fought. How they survived. The people here had very little, but because of that they were generous with what little they had, with each other and with strangers. Their history is remembered in their food, in the wine, in the olive oil, in stories and nick names passed down generation to generation. Sgurgolani were known for their food. Hearty, abundant peasant food, made with the best produce. The best wine, the best meat, the best pasta made from the best grain. The people were proud, heads held high. They wanted to show their worth and their worth was exuberant. When you see pictures of the Cioccarian women, with their heavy red coral earrings and necklaces, full busts that God created for suckling strong mountain children, their stronger than steel expressions, you realise that it is no mistake that the symbol for Sgurgola is Bellatrix, the woman warrior. The strength of this place, its ferocity, comes from her ability to nurture and survive. Like the mountain that rises up beyond, its essence is the fact that it has always been here and, despite all attempts to subdue it, it will always rise and remain.

Our tiny town Sgurgola, or as it is usually called La Sgurgola, etched into the mountain side of Monte Lepini, continues stands like a sentinel keeping watch over the Sacco Valley that stretches out below. From the Muraglione (the big wall) of Piazza dell’Aringo you can see almost all the way to Rome, mountains stretching out beyond the hill towns dotting the slopes of the valley on the other side. The fields of grain and barley on the plains towards Anagni that once fed the Papal state have long been replaced by factories and international distribution centres which provide work and prosperity for the people who still call this place home. A stone’s throw from Rome by train or superstrada, a world away from everything, with the wild mountain stretching up behind to the sky, a place where you can still escape and find peace, untouched nature and a visceral connection with the history of the people.