Gessopalena’s history is rooted in the interplay of Lombard settlement, Benedictine evangelization, and diocesan power. From the 8th century onward, the Benedictines established churches across the Aventine valleys, often on lands favored by Lombard lords. Papal bulls of the 11th and 12th centuries already mention the “plebem Sanctae Mariae in domo” — the parish of Santa Maria in Gesso — situating the town among the key ecclesiastical centers of the region. For centuries, churches such as Santa Maria Maggiore, Santa Maria dei Calderari, Sant’Egidio, and San Valentino were contested between the Diocese of Chieti and the monasteries of San Salvatore a Maiella and Montecassino. Norman and Angevin rulers deepened these rivalries by granting fiefs and parishes to their vassals, even naming Gessopalena in a diploma of Charles I of Anjou in 1269. By the 14th century, diocesan authority reasserted itself: the Rationes Decimarum show Gesso’s churches paying tithes to the bishop, while inventories of San Salvatore still claimed Calderari and Sant’Angelo as Benedictine. Thus the medieval identity of Gessopalena emerged as a borderland of church and monastery, feudal lord and peasant, fortress and valley.
Gessopalena’s earliest identity is inseparable from its monastic foundations. Sant’Egidio, cited in the Montecassino records of Abbot Bertarius (9th century) and included in the Arcisanum (“of the citadel”), stood with one of the earliest Benedictine castles within the Terra Sancti Benedicti—the “Land of Saint Benedict.” This Cassinese ne
Gessopalena’s earliest identity is inseparable from its monastic foundations. Sant’Egidio, cited in the Montecassino records of Abbot Bertarius (9th century) and included in the Arcisanum (“of the citadel”), stood with one of the earliest Benedictine castles within the Terra Sancti Benedicti—the “Land of Saint Benedict.” This Cassinese network extended across Abruzzo, securing mills, vineyards, and castles in places like Casoli, Prata, Civitella Messer Raimondo, and Fara San Martino.
From these monasteries flowed not only agricultural and spiritual life, but also the framework of surnames and families. Occupational names, locative identifiers, and by-names—Accettella, Pellicciotta, Larcinese, Camerino, Peschi, Paglione, Jacobi, Berardo, and others— may have emerged within this Benedictine order. Some endured for centuries; others vanished into memory.
Seen through this lens, Sant’Egidio is more than a ruin on the hillside: it is a witness to Gessopalena’s place in a wider historical matrix, where family, faith, and land converged under the Benedictine, Cistercian, and later Celestine orders.
Gessopalena is not a fragment of ruins or a forgotten paese vecchio. It is a village whose story unfolds across more than a millennium, shaped by monastics, merchants, and families whose lives were woven together like the stones of its walls. To remove one family or one name from this fabric would collapse the whole—the strength of Gessop
Gessopalena is not a fragment of ruins or a forgotten paese vecchio. It is a village whose story unfolds across more than a millennium, shaped by monastics, merchants, and families whose lives were woven together like the stones of its walls. To remove one family or one name from this fabric would collapse the whole—the strength of Gessopalena has always been found in its interdependence.
The town is an open-air museum for those willing to walk its streets with history in mind: from Benedictine fortifications and medieval churches to the scars left by the destruction of 1943. The ruins may appear silent, but every church, every piazza, every contrada carries the weight of centuries.
Though daily life may now move along new cafés, shops, and the main road, the past remains ever-present. Gessopalena was chosen by the Benedictines as a defensive seat, grew around its first castle, and expanded through valleys and hills whose names still echo the land and people who gave them meaning.
This site is an homage: to the endurance of Gessopalena, to the families who sustained it, and to the enduring character of a town that has stood for over a thousand years.
The paese vecchio preserves the layered history of Gessopalena. At its peak stands Sant’Egidio with its adjoining cluster of homes—the Caracciolo house, the ruga dell’Arcinese, the ruga Taliano, and the ruga dell’Annunziata—alongside the historic dwellings of the Larcinese, De Gregorio, and Mancini families, before reaching the church of Sant’Egidio and the ruins of the castle.
Here, faith and family were inseparable. The Benedictine monastery shaped the early fabric of the town, while the later centuries saw the rise of palazzi such as Persiani and Tozzi, and the addition of the Church of Sant’Antonio. Valle Sorda, like the other valleys surrounding the town, anchored daily life to the land.
The paese vecchio is more than a ruin—it is a palimpsest of Benedictine beginnings, noble houses, and enduring family lines. Every street and ruga reflects the convergence of monastic heritage and civic memory.
This project is not intended to present the final word on Gessopalena’s history, but to open doors that for too long have been closed. Much of what appears here comes from archival documents scattered across Abruzzo, Naples, and the Vatican — sources not easily accessible to the public. My goal is to recover forgotten families, confraternities, and artisans who shaped the fabric of this land long before feudal titles came to dominate its memory.
The evidence presented is carefully cited, distinguishing between documented fact and ongoing hypotheses. Where questions remain, I share them openly, so that future scholars — whether professional historians, local researchers, or descendants — may continue the work.
If new information comes to light, or if others can make a stronger case, I welcome it. Debate, correction, and discovery are not threats but signs of a living history. Gessopalena deserves nothing less than a history written in dialogue, not silence.
— Matthew de Larcinese
A special thank you to my cousin, Luciano Troilo, whose branch of the Larcinese clan has long remained rooted in Gessopalena.
Upon my return to Gessopalena in 2004, Luciano provided invaluable local guidance, including an on-site visit by tractor to identify the Valle Arcioni, Piano Mulino, and the locations of ancestral family homes preserved in local memory.
From 2005 onward, Luciano also kept an additional family house open for me in Piazza Roma, in the town’s main square. This generosity allowed me to maintain a working base in Gessopalena, where I could keep personal belongings year-round and return for extended research stays, often beginning each January.
The availability of this home made it possible for me to undertake sustained archival work over many years, including repeated journeys to archives in Bergamo, Milan, Florence, Venice, and Pistoia, as well as long nights at the Archivio di Stato di Lanciano, where I digitized notarial books and acts central to the reconstruction of Gessopalena’s family and territorial history.
Luciano’s generosity was therefore not incidental, but foundational. Without his support, this research could not have evolved into its present form.
Luciano’s mother, Maddalena Troilo (daughter of Domenica Larcinese), who resided in Gessopalena until her death at the age of 104, represented an extraordinary bridge between archival history and lived memory.
Born in 1914, she retained personal recollections extending back to the late nineteenth century and remembered my great-grandfather, who sent her chocolate from the grocery store he opened in the United States in 1925. She was also alive during the final years of my great-great-grandfather, Domenico, placing her within living memory of multiple generations of the family.
Notably, Maddalena was the first person to articulate orally that the family surname derived from Arcioni, an assertion later borne out through documentary, territorial, and linguistic research.
Her recollections—shared long before the archival evidence was fully assembled—underscore the critical role of community memory in preserving historical knowledge that survives only partially in written sources.