Benito Mussolini stepped out onto the Piazza del Campidoglio at 10:58 in the morning of April 7, 1926. He had just delivered a speech prepared for him by his lover, the Jewish writer Margherita Sarfatti.
The speech had been a success, and Mussolini left satisfied, making his way through the cheering crowd.
Suddenly, a woman approached within a few meters of the Duce. She was holding a Lebel, a deadly revolver issued to the French army during the first world war. She pointed it at the dictator and fired.
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Mussolini was grazed on the nose by the bullet. The next day’s newspapers reported that he was saved by a sudden shift of his head while giving the Roman salute. The woman attempted a second shot, but the gun failed to fire.
Blocked and beaten by the crowd, the woman was immediately arrested and taken to the Mantellate prison (a Roman female prison), where she gave her personal details. She claimed not to remember the attack and appeared surprisingly calm and indifferent.
The woman in question was Violet Albina Gibson, the daughter of the 1st Baron Ashbourne Edward Gibson. The Baron was the Lord Chancellor of Ireland for almost 20 years (1885-1905), before its independence from Great Britain. Gibson was born in Dublin on August 31, 1876, into a pro-British Anglican family.
After the assassination attempt, Gibson was branded insane. The political motive behind the attack was hushed up to reduce the embarrassment of both British and Italian governments.
Only by downgrading the attack to the senseless behaviour of a madwoman – judicially certified by a court – could it have been possible, as indeed happened, to proceed with Gibson’s repatriation, as all parties hoped.
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This version of history was believed for decades. It was only in 2014 that Gibson’s story was brought to a wider audience by the documentary, Violet Gibson, The Irish Woman Who Shot Mussolini, based on the work of historian Frances Stonor Saunders. Finally, in 2021, Dublin Council honoured her stand against tyranny with a plaque outside her childhood home.
Now, new evidence buried in a number of Italian archives, uncovered by one of us (Giovanni), further substantiates Gibson’s clear anti-fascist political motives and reveals how the attack was carefully planned. It shows how:
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When Gibson moved to Rome, she lived next door to the Duke of Cesarò, an opposition leader, prominent anti-fascist and a man she would later claim was her lover.
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Gibson’s acquaintance with the Duke was further corroborated by a new analysis of her psychiatric report.
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Gibson moved to Italy after the murder of Giacomo Matteotti, the socialist leader kidnapped and killed by a fascist squad.
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Gibson travelled to the small town where the trial of Matteotti’s murderers took place.
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Evidence from several key witnesses was ignored or twisted.
Who was Violet Gibson?
At the age of 18, Gibson was a debutante in the court of Queen Victoria. Debutantes were young, upper-class women who were presented to the monarch to mark their official entry into high society and the marriage market.
Gibson was photographed standing next to the future King George V in 1897 during a visit to the Ashbourne family in Howth Castle, when he was Duke of York.
In conflict with her family, Gibson converted to Catholicism at the outbreak of the first world war and Scotland Yard registered her “anti-British pacifism”. Over the years, she would develop a Christian-socialist attitude that saw her sympathise with the poor.
She also had strong ties to Italy, a country she had visited frequently and for long periods as a young woman. Partly because of her father’s interest in Italian reunification, on which he had written extensively, she had always followed Italian politics with passion and apprehension as the country was falling towards right-wing extremism.
She was extremely worried about the rise of fascism, starting at least from the 1923 assassination by a fascist squad of the priest Don Giovanni Minzoni.
Then, according to her family, in August 1924 she reacted furiously to one of the first BBC news broadcasts reporting the discovery of the body of socialist leader Matteotti.
Matteotti’s murder, on June 10, 1924, is one of Italy’s most infamous cold cases which one of us (Andrea) has researched extensively.
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The murder of Giacomo Matteotti – reinvestigating Italy’s most infamous cold case
The suspicions of Mussolini’s involvement in plotting his murder ushered in a long period of crisis that the Duce only managed to overcome in January 1925. It accelerated his authoritarian drift toward dictatorial power, with support he had won from King Victor Emmanuel III.
British reaction to Gibson’s arrest
There were violent reactions from the fascist movement following Gibson’s attempt. The fascists were by then a powerful force in the country and were calling for revenge against those who had dared to plot against the head of government.
George V’s embassy in Italy issued a statement the day after the assassination attempt. It said the embassy was unaware of Gibson’s presence in Rome, believing that she was interned in a nursing home in England. King George V himself, perhaps embarrassed by that old photo of himself, immediately condemned “the ignoble attack”.
British Foreign Secretary Sir Austen Chamberlain also expressed “horror” at the act committed by a woman belonging to the British aristocracy in a telegram to Mussolini.
We have also reviewed correspondence, stored in the UK’s National Archives, sent from Chamberlain in the aftermath of the attempt. In these messages he instructed Ambassador to Italy Sir Ronald Graham to help Italian investigators. The ambassador told Chamberlain he had “little doubt” that Gibson was “a tool of outside influence”. Nevertheless, Chamberlain instructed him to suggest she was mad and she should be in a mental institution in England. He said this would minimise repercussions on the hitherto good international relations between the two countries, reporting also that Churchill was “charmed by Mussolini”.
Almost in unison, Gibson’s family members also denied that there could be any political significance to her actions. They promised, if released, she would be properly cared for in a health facility in England.
Investigations
During the initial interrogations with the magistrate (which took place under the liberal penal code of Zanardelli) in four separate interviews in April, May and June 1926, Gibson continued to state, somewhat vaguely and confusingly, that she did not remember trying to shoot Mussolini.
Then, in mid-June, the defendant’s attitude suddenly changed.
On June 12 and 16, under the guidance of lawyer Enrico Ferri and assisted by Bruno Cassinelli, she confessed to being responsible for the attack and claimed she had an accomplice – the prominent anti-fascist politician, Duke Antonio Colonna, Duke of Cesarò (1878-1940).
She also claimed she was insane. This seemed to be enough to quell rumours of a conspiracy. It was all the work of a mad woman, acting alone.
But a question loomed: what was Gibson doing in Italy in the first place?
New evidence
Our fresh critical analysis of the trial documents shows that Gibson arrived in Italy with her lady-in-waiting Mary McGrath in October 1924 and lived in Rome at Via Gregoriana. This was just a few steps away from the Duke of Cesarò’s house in Via Gregoriana. But when she talked about her movements across Rome in subsequent interviews, she never mentioned this address.
This, together with the Duke’s admission of having met Gibson in 1912 in Munich at a conference of the Theosophical Society, suggests that – despite the Duke’s denials – he and Gibson had met in Rome prior to the attempted murder.
Furthermore, it is important to stress that Gibson’s companion in Italy, Mary McGrath, distanced herself from the prevailing family attitude that attributed Gibson’s mental infirmity as the cause of the attack.
Our archival research clearly shows that, when summoned by the Italian Consul in Dublin on May 19, McGrath maintained that she did not believe her mistress was insane, and even added that she suspected she used to meet many people every day during her stay in Rome.
When investigators in Rome approached McGrath after the shooting she showed heartfelt sympathy towards Gibson but she shied away from backing up the family’s theory about her lady’s insanity. She was, in fact duly paid and repatriated to Dublin by Gibson, just prior to the assassination attempt.
However, from the defendant’s somewhat extravagant and in our view quite intentional judicial behaviour (claiming to be both mad and responsible for the crime), an altered mental state emerged during interrogations that was used to suggest the existence of a cognitive bias.
By declaring herself insane, she denied full responsibility for the criminal act. Further doubts also arose from the fact that she told the experts she loved the Duke of Cesarò, yet continued to denounce him as an accomplice.
Under the liberal penal code in force at the time, admitting responsibility for the attack while simultaneously declaring herself insane (and therefore irresponsible for the act) forced the magistrate to order a psychiatric evaluation.
From the testimonies gathered during the police investigations and checks conducted by the experienced police commissioner, Epifanio Pennetta, other important aspects emerged.
Although they were willingly denied by Gibson, these findings confirmed instead the defendant’s clear premeditation of the attack, carried out with anti-fascist motivations.
Contrary to this perspective, erasures and misrepresentations would instead emerge, which can only be explained, historically, as prejudicially influenced by the Mussolini regime.
These aspects were not accepted as significant evidence in the Special Military Tribunal – which took over the case – and were not subsequently examined by historians, with the exception of some references in the book by American historian Richard O. Collin, who was the first to shed some light into the Gibson affair in 1986.
Attending Matteotti’s trial
A critical piece of evidence which was ignored by investigators at the time was the fact that several witnesses testified to having seen Gibson attend the trial against Giacomo Matteotti’s assassins in Chieti between March 16 and 24, 1926.
These testimonies are highly significant: only devout anti-fascists travelled to the small mountain town where the regime had moved the highly sensitive trial.
Travelling to Chieti was neither easy nor straightforward at the time – even now it takes three hours by coaches which didn’t exist at the time. It required a very serious commitment.
In contrast to these witness testimonies, Gibson would categorically deny having attended the trial.
Archivio GBB/Alamy
Surprisingly, she was believed by the military magistrates despite their own affirmation in the ruling that her past, present and future statements should be prejudicially deemed false and unreliable.
Upon her return to Rome from Chieti, likely disappointed by the outcome of the legal proceedings, which had resulted in only light convictions for Matteotti’s assassins, Gibson would demonstrate her desire to implement a plan she had perhaps already conceived for some time. A plan that was kept secret.
Then, on March 28, 1926, witnesses interviewed during the preliminary investigation reported her presence at Villa Glori – at the anniversary of the founding of the Fascist Party, attended by Mussolini.
Gibson also denied being at this event and was, again, believed by the magistrates.
It’s important to highlight that this episode occurred a few days after the end of the Matteotti’s murderer trial and shortly before the events of April 7.
These testimonies, which the military judges did not credit, lead us to suspect that Gibson may have already been contemplating an attack on Mussolini on this occasion – suggesting clear premeditation and consistent anti-fascist motivation.
The psychiatric report and a lover
On July 8, 1926, psychiatrists were appointed. Sante De Sanctis and Augusto Giannelli were the family’s expert witness and the court-appointed expert witness, respectively. The experts were asked whether, “Miss Gibson was rationally aware and free of will at the time of the accused act”; if the accused was suffering from mental insanity, and “how the statements recently made to the investigating magistrate should be considered”.
In the expert report, Gibson reiterated that she had been influenced by the Duke of Cesarò, who however, she also claimed to “love very much”.
This came as a surprise to the experts who tried unsuccessfully to highlight the paradox she was falling into by declaring that she loved a man who she ended up damaging by her accusations.
Although declaring to have greatly loved the Duke of Cesarò, Gibson did not show any regret in accusing him, perhaps revealing the bitterness and resentment of some romantic delusion.
In August, the mental health experts’ unanimous verdict was that the defendant was partially insane and therefore could not be responsible for her crime.
The spy and the Special Military Tribunal
Meanwhile, Mussolini was pushing forward his authoritarian agenda. In Autumn 1926 there had been two more attempts on his life from the young anarchists Gino Lucetti and Anteo Zamboni (both of whom missed their target).
In a revealing moment, on hearing of Lucetti’s attempt, Gibson (who was in custody) confided to a nun that “it was a pity that he missed”.
The government took advantage of the situation by pressing on with its “hyper-fascist laws” which dissolved all political parties, ended Parliamentary democracy and introduced a Special Military Tribunal for crimes against the regime. Crucially, the new tribunal could inflict the death penalty, which was reintroduced 37 years after its abolition.
It is worth noting at this stage that, according to Italian historian Mauro Canali, one of Gibson’s lawyers, Bruno Cassinelli, was also an informant for Mussolini’s government, with the codename Brucassi.
He had already defended Giovanni Corvi, a communist that had killed the fascist MP Armando Casalini in September 1924 (shouting “Vendetta per Matteotti”), and who was also judged mentally insane.
It is easy to imagine that Gibson’s judicial strategy (defended by the same lawyer) was also aimed at obtaining the same declaration of insanity from the military judges. And unlike the original judges, the military judges were influenced by Mussolini who at that point was keen on maintaining good relations with the British government.
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The first ruling of the newly operational Special Military Tribunal, was with the Gibson case.
The case was dealt with in a private hearing and a verdict was reached on May 6, 1927. The first point reiterated extensively by the military judges was that nothing but lies could be expected from Gibson.
It was therefore essential to prevent these scandalous lies from being uttered in a public hearing. The ruling therefore established that both her past and present statements and those that could have been made in a public hearing were to be prejudicially deemed false and unreliable.
The final decision on Gibson’s mental infirmity was taken, uniquely, by military judges, who based it on “legal-ethical” reasons.
The verdict
On this basis, the Special Military Tribunal, having ignored all politically relevant aspects of the previous investigation, on May 6, 1927, independently ruled that there was “no case to answer against Violetta Albina Gibson, regarding the crimes she was charged with, because she is not punishable by reason of mental illness”.
The verdict, which explicitly mentioned “the intervention of his excellency Benito Mussolini”, ordered her release in order for Gibson to be admitted to a mental asylum for treatment.
Yet, the police authorities, rather than delivering her to a Roman psychiatric hospital, as had happened in similar cases, released her, once again, on Mussolini’s orders.
Return to England
The regime handed Gibson over to her sister, Constance, On May 9, 1927, in a breach of the usual procedure. Three days later, the sister accompanied Gibson back to England on a long train journey. With them, undercover Italian police, one Italian nurse, three English nurses and a travel agency attendant. None of them were dressed in their usual uniforms and Gibson did not know what was about to happen to her.
Some family members and political figures expressed gratitude to Mussolini for freeing one of their compatriots who had “senselessly” attempted to kill him. In compliance with the ruling of the Special Military Tribunal in Italy, which had erased the political motivation and judicially certified the defendant’s insanity, a further psychiatric diagnosis was ordered to confirm her mental illness.
The “senseless” motivation for the attack was quickly confirmed with a certification of insanity rushed through by Maurice Craig and Bernard Hart, two doctors in Harley Street. Gibson was admitted to St Andrew’s Hospital in Northampton (a town around 60 miles north of London) where she would remain segregated for almost 30 years.
In April 1930, on the fourth anniversary of her assassination attempt, she tried to take her own life, but a nurse found her before she could. Only her sister Constance kept visiting in the hospital, while the rest of the family kept their distance.
Throughout her time at St Andrew’s Hospital, she repeatedly pleaded for her liberation in letters to her family, to the Queen and to members of the government, including Winston Churchill.
When the young Princess Elizabeth married Prince Philip, in 1947, Gibson wrote her a clear, kind and simple letter which read:
In the happiest period of your life, I make this request that you write to the Home Secretary saying that you would be glad if he would release me from this mental hospital so that I can go into a convent…In 1926, I shot at Mussolini and was shut up in this hospital for the course of His Majesty’s pleasure. I am feel quite sure that your kind-hearted grandfather would not take any pleasure in keeping me here any longer, twenty weary years and six months. I am now old, bed-ridden with very bad heart disease and other illnesses…You will not need to fear that I will ever shoot anyone again as I am old and ill and occupied in very quiet matters, especially prayers. So if you get me my freedom, I am sure that such a kind act will bring a blessing on your marriage…
As with most of the other letters, it was never sent and they lie in St Andrew’s Hospital archive.
Epilogue
Antonio Colonna, the Duke of Cesarò – the man Gibson professed to love – was forced to retire from politics after her arrest and the investigation over his role. He died in Rome, aged 62, in 1940 just a few months after fascist Italy had declared war on Great Britain.
Italian partisans eventually killed Mussolini on April 28, 1945. It is not known how Gibson received either piece of news.
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The collective memory of Gibson was for a long time shaped by the narrow conception of mental health in the early 20th century, the diagnostic conclusions of Italian and British psychiatrists and the international agreement between governments that had her confined in a mental institution.
Gibson died in St Andrew’s Hospital, on May 2, 1956, a few months before her 80th birthday. No friends or family attended her funeral.
In her will, she requested a requiem mass and to be buried in a Catholic cemetery – this final wish was ignored by her family.
Gibson came closer than anyone to killing Mussolini. Her attempt was well planned and executed. Had she succeeded, the history of the 20th century would have been very different.
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