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Portrait of Salvatore Di Giacomo
by Vincenzo Migliaro
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Salvatore Di Giacomo was born in Naples on March 12, 1860. Following in his father's footsteps he studied medicine but withdrew because of the unease he felt every time he saw a cadaver.
In 1879 he dedicated himself to literature, contributing to many periodicals, including the Neapolitan daily Corriere di Napoli. His so-called "German short stories," published serially in il Mattino, have often brought comparisons with Edgar Allen Poe for their strange and macabre subject matter set in a fictional German hamlet. They were published collectively as Pipa a boccale in 1883.
Di Giacomo founded his own journal, Il Fantasio in 1880 and was a vocal critic of the many social injustices in Naples. He wrote in the popular Verismo literary style, painting vivid depictions of Neapolitan life. His play Assunta Spina (1911), with its dramatic story line and realistic dialogue, is an excellent example of this genre. Assunta Spina was adapted to film in 1914 and is widely considered a masterpiece of the Italian silent film era.
Di Giacomo was also quite successful as a lyricist. He penned the famous Marechiaro in 1885, which was put to music by the celebrated composer from Ortona, Abruzzo, Francesco Paolo Tosti (1846-1916):
When the moon rises over Marechiare
Even the fish tremble with love,
The waves roll over in the bosom of the sea,
And change color with sheer joy,
When the moon rises over Marechiare.
An avid researcher of the eighteenth century, Di Giacomo worked as a librarian for the National Library of Naples (Biblioteca Nazionale di Napoli), later establishing the library's Lucchese section. With a group of writers and scholars, including his friend Benedetto Croce, he would go on to found the monthly journal Napoli Nobilissima (Noble Naples) in 1892.
Di Giacomo wrote many short stories, plays, essays and songs, but he's best remembered for his poetry in Neapolitan vernacular. He is often credited with revitalizing Neapolitan poetry in the early twentieth century, however, as is often pointed out, the language he used was not the common tongue of the populace but harked back to the golden age of Bourbon Naples.
Salvatore Di Giacomo died on April 4, 1934 at the age of 74.
In honor of his birthday I'm reprinting one of my favorite poems from The Naples of Salvatore Di Giacomo: Poems and a Play Translated by Frank J. Palescandolo.
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Neapolitan fisherman's daughter,
Graziella, by Jules-Joseph Lefebvre
Photo by New York Scugnizzo
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Briggeta
Her name is Briggeta
who struts to peddle
a catch of octopus,
on summer afternoons.
On crescent mole,
her full bosomed figure,
caused many a heartbreak,
among sons of mothers!
I, too, was a victim,
her eyes played with my heart
well, I did what I could;
yes, I sucked up to her...
As I did, I trembled,
my knees buckled under,
her beauty robbed my breath,
once deigned to talk to me!
Briggeta! I am steaming,
your cold, absent manner
sets me all to simmer.
Answer me! Yes or no!
After setting me to a boil,
while tending the fire,
you pouted: "My mother
Sir, she does not wish it."
A tender octopus was
was struggling in her grasp,
As I too in her words.
What is more to be said?
Now? To quickly sever
that octopus, a slash
of my knife! With one voice,
sing out: "Che purpo ohe!"
