If you’re researching your Italian family history, you’ve probably encountered mysterious gaps in records, sudden family relocations, or stories passed down about sickness and loss. The 1855 cholera epidemic that devastated the small village of Benabbio in Bagni di Lucca offers a powerful example of how disease could reshape entire communities—and family trees—in just a few months.
I came across this story by accident. While reviewing parish death registers from Benabbio and Limano for another project, I noticed something unusual: page after page of entries from the autumn of 1855. Instead of the typical two or three monthly deaths, I found long, continuous lists of men, women, and children who had died within hours or days of each other. It was clear that something unusual had happened.
Curious, I began to investigate. What I found was a remarkable intersection of archival records, archaeology, and public health history. Thanks to a recent excavation by researchers from the University of Pisa[i], we now have an unprecedented look at how one small mountain village—Benabbio—faced one of the 19th century’s most feared diseases. For genealogists, this story also offers insights into the kinds of events that could suddenly scatter families, disrupt record-keeping, and create the frustrating brick walls we often encounter in our research.
When Cholera Came to Tuscany
The cholera that struck Benabbio was part of a massive pandemic that swept across Europe between 1853 and 1856[ii]. For Tuscany, it was nothing short of catastrophic—about 30,000 people died across the region between 1854 and 1855ii.
The disease arrived in Tuscany on July 26, 1854, in a way that shows how connected even remote villages were to the wider world. A small sailing ship called La Marianna from Genoa docked at the port of Avenza, carrying two infected passengers bound for Viareggioii. From that single moment, cholera began its deadly march across the region.
What’s fascinating is how the disease followed the pathways of daily life: It spread along the river Arno, via Pisa and Firenze, and the newly built Leopolda railway line, from Livorno to Firenze, that Grand Duke Leopold II had opened just years beforeii. The very infrastructure that connected communities and boosted trade also became highways for disease.
Figure caption
The fear of cholera, here depicted in the context of a masked ball in Paris, from 1831 by Alfred Rethel. Death the Strangler, The First Outbreak of Cholera at a Masked Ball in Paris, 1831 by Alfred Rethel.
The first wave of cholera hit hard. From July to December 1854, over 6,400 people fell ill, and more than 3,400 died—a death rate of 53% among those who got sick[iii]. People were so relieved when it seemed to end that they held a massive thanksgiving service in Florence Cathedral on January 21, 1855ii.
But cholera wasn’t done. It came back even stronger in February 1855, this time spreading from Sesto Fiorentino, just north of Florence. The area’s many laundries, dye works, and factories provided perfect conditions for the disease to take hold and spread. By the time it finally ended in November 1855, another 26,327 people had died. The province of Lucca, where Benabbio was located, had lost 3,180 peopleii.
Figure caption
The spread of cholera in Tuscany in 1854 and 1855. From: Fornaciari, A. Death in the Time of Pandemic: A Tuscan Cholera Cemetery at Benabbio (1855). Hist Arch 57, 1254–1268 (2023). https://doi.org/10.1007/s41636-023-00437-9
The cholera epidemic of 1855 struck Italy during a pivotal historical moment. The country was still politically fragmented but on the brink of unification, and new technologies—like railways and industrial canals—were connecting even the most remote regions in Tuscany to national and international trade. Alongside these changes came new public health ideas, but also deep anxieties about disease, control, and tradition. When cholera arrived, it forced communities to navigate these tensions in real time.
What People Thought About Cholera
Understanding how people in 1855 thought about disease helps us understand their responses—and why some of their prevention efforts seem strange to us today. At the time, the medical world was in the middle of a heated debate about what caused cholera and how it spread.
Amazingly, a Tuscan doctor named Filippo Pacini actually identified the cholera bacterium in 1854—right during the epidemic—by looking at victims’ tissue under a microscope. He called it “Vibrio cholerae” and suggested it caused the disease[iv]. But hardly anyone believed him. It would take until the 1880s for the medical world to accept that tiny organisms could cause such devastation.
Instead, most people followed one of two competing theories. The “anticontagionists” believed cholera spread through bad air—“miasmas”—that rose from rotting garbage, sewage, and stagnant water. If you could smell something foul, they thought, you were breathing in disease. The “contagionists”, on the other hand, believed the disease passed directly from person to person, though they couldn’t prove howii,[v]..
Some people had even more colorful explanations, blaming unusual star alignments, comets, weird weather, or earthquakes for bringing the disease. These theories weren’t just academic—they shaped how governments and communities tried to fight the epidemic.
The Tragedy Hits Benabbio
In 1855, Benabbio was a small mountain village of about 900 people. When cholera arrived between August and October, it hit like a hammer. Seventy-one people got sick, and 46 of them died—that’s nearly two-thirds of those who caught the diseasei,ii. In a community where everyone knew everyone else, this was devastating.
What makes Benabbio’s story unique is what happened next. Between 2007 and 2010, archaeologists from the University of Pisa excavated the village’s very own cholera cemetery, giving us the first-ever detailed look at how a 19th-century community actually handled a cholera crisis.
Faced with so many deaths, the villagers had to make a desperate choice. Their regular cemetery was right in the village centre, near the parish church, and it used above-ground burial chambers, as still seen in Tuscany today. However, with cholera victims considered highly contagious, they needed somewhere else to bury the dead—fast.
They chose the ruins of the old medieval Castle of Benabbio, located on a hill overlooking the village. Only the ancient church of San Michele still stood among the ruins, but it was perfect for their needs. The location was far from the living, but the presence of the church meant the ground was still consecrated—important for maintaining Catholic burial traditions even in a medical crisisi,ii,[vi].
What the Graves Revealed
The archaeological dig uncovered 43 bodies and revealed fascinating details about how the community balanced official health orders with their own beliefs and traditionsi,ii. The graves were arranged in neat rows around the church, showing that even in crisis, there was planning and organisation (see photo above).
But here’s where it gets interesting: the evidence shows that local people quietly rebelled against many of the official health regulations. The government had strict rules about cholera burials—bodies were supposed to be buried naked, without coffins or shrouds, and covered with lime to prevent infectioni,ii.
The reality was very different. In fact, most of the Benabbio victims were buried still wearing their clothes (archaeologists found buttons and fabric scraps), and some were even buried with coffins or wooden boards. Only six graves had lime, but the amount was nowhere near the 24 litres required by the health authorities at the time. People also buried their loved ones with jewellery, rosaries, religious medals, and protective charms—things that showed they were still trying to honour the dead and protect them in the afterlife i,ii.
Figure caption
Artefacts found in the Benabbio cholera graves. From: Fornaciari, A. & Giuffra, V. The 1854-1855 Cholera Pandemic in Tuscany and the Cholera Cemetery of the Village of Benabbio. Medicina nei Secoli 33(2), 261-274 (2021). Available from: https://rosa.uniroma1.it/rosa01/medicina_nei_secoli/article/view/2469
Perhaps most unique were the positions of the bodies. Unlike normal Catholic burials where the deceased lie peacefully on their backs with arms folded, many of the cholera victims were found twisted and contorted. This likely reflects both the hasty nature of emergency burials and the horrible way cholera killed—causing such severe dehydration and muscle cramps that people’s limbs would contract in awful waysi,ii.
What the Bones Reveal About Life in Benabbio
Archaeological analysis of the skeletons from Benabbio offers a rare glimpse into the everyday lives of its 19th-century residents. The men showed signs of intense physical labour—muscle attachment patterns on their arms and legs suggest they spent much of their lives working the land, cutting wood, and navigating steep mountain terrain. In contrast, the women’s skeletons showed fewer of these stress markers, pointing to a more domestic role. The physical division of labour between men and women was clearly etched into their bones.
Many of the villagers, even the younger ones, had signs of advanced joint wear—especially in the shoulders, knees, hips, and spine—likely from years of repetitive strain. Nearly a third of women and almost 40% of men had suffered at least one fracture, likely the result of accidents on rough, forested slopes. And in many individuals, there were signs of bone inflammation caused by frequent cuts, infections, and the challenges of living in a densely populated rural environment with limited hygiene. Taken together, the evidence paints a vivid picture of a hard-working, physically taxed mountain community—one shaped by tough terrain, long hours, and very few safety nets [i]
The Battle Between Rules and Tradition
The Tuscan health authorities, led by a doctor named Pietro Betti, had created detailed rules for handling cholera deaths. They required special transport in closed wagons, individual graves, naked burial, and heavy lime coverageiii. They thought decomposing cholera victims would release “putrid emanations” (foul-smelling gases from decaying bodies) that could spread the disease.
But the archaeological evidence shows that the people of Benabbio had other ideas. They found ways to follow their hearts and their traditions, even while dealing with official requirements. For them, it was about maintaining dignity for the dead and comfort for the living during a very difficult crisis.
The protective items found in graves—like copper rings with crosses and silver fish-shaped pendants—show that people were desperately trying to use every tool they had, both scientific and spiritual, to fight the diseasei,[vii].
Figure caption
Two abnormal positions of bodies at the cholera cemetery of Benabbio (1855), with bent and distorted limbs or in prone position. From: Fornaviari, A., Cignoni, L., Fornaciari, G. Students’ participation in an archaeoanthropology course using a content and language integrated learning (clil) methodology. Conference proceedings for 4th International Technology, Education and Development Conference, 8-10 March, 2010. Available from: https://library.iated.org/view/FORNACIARI2010STU?re=downloadnotallowed
Why This Matters Today
The archaeological work at Benabbio offers something rare: concrete evidence of how a 19th-century village responded to a public health crisis. It reminds us that not all family history is preserved in written records. Emergency burials, disrupted record-keeping, and rapid relocations left gaps and brick walls that can still frustrate genealogists today.
For anyone researching families from the Lucca area—or Italy in the 1850s more broadly—the cholera epidemic in Benabbio provides crucial context: It shows how disease, fear, and resilience shaped the lives of ordinary people. Understanding these events helps us look beyond missing names and dates, and see the larger forces that shaped the paths our ancestors took.
Sources
[i] Fornaciari, A. Death in the Time of Pandemic: A Tuscan Cholera Cemetery at Benabbio (1855). Hist Arch 57, 1254–1268 (2023). https://doi.org/10.1007/s41636-023-00437-9
[ii] Fornaciari, A. & Giuffra, V. The 1854-1855 Cholera Pandemic in Tuscany and the Cholera Cemetery of the Village of Benabbio. Medicina nei Secoli 33(2), 261-274 (2021). Available from: https://rosa.uniroma1.it/rosa01/medicina_nei_secoli/article/view/2469
[iii] Betti P, Prima appendice alle considerazioni sul colera asiatico che contristò
la Toscana nelli anni 1835-36-37-49 comprendente la invasione colerica del
1854. Firenze: Tipografia delle Murate; 1857. Available from: https://archive.org/details/bub_gb_03nsI5f1a-EC/bub_gb_03nsI5f1a-EC/page/n811/mode/2up?q=3403
[iv] Bentivoglio, M. & Pacini, P. Filippo Pacini: A Determined Observer. Brain Research Bulletin 38(2), 161-165 (1995). https://doi.org/10.1016/0361-9230(95)00083-Q
[v] Bencard A. Epidemics before microbiology: stories from the plague in 1711 and cholera in 1853 in Copenhagen. APMIS 129(7), 372-380 (2021 Jul). https://doi.org/10.1111/apm.13137
[vi] Bini, M., Fornaciari, A., Ribolini, A., Bianchi, A., Sartini, S. & Coschino, F. Medieval phases of settlement at Benabbio castle, Apennine mountains, Italy: evidence from Ground Penetrating Radar survey. Journal of Archeological Science 37(12), 3059-3067 (2010). https://doi.org/10.1016/j/jas.2010.07.006 .
[vii] Fornaviari, A., Cignoni, L., Fornaciari, G. Students’ participation in an archaeoanthropology course using a content and language integrated learning (clil) methodology. Conference proceedings for 4th International Technology, Education and Development Conference, 8-10 March, 2010. Available from: https://library.iated.org/view/FORNACIARI2010STU?re=downloadnotallowed
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