When Good Girls Go Bad (Or Do They?): Nymphomania and Lycanthropy in Verga's "La Lupa"

At some point during early development, most children are afraid of the imaginary wolf under the bed or the wolf that hides in the closet at night. Traditional bedtime stories such as Little Red Riding Hood certainly do not help assuage such fears: these are atavistic dreads, similar to being scared of the dark or of death.¹ In childhood culture, the wolf represents the "other," the "furry non-human," and almost always the viciously violent. Later, as adults, the occasional dream of wolverine violence, or of human transformation into a wolf (a lycanthropic aversion) might very well create anxiety and apprehension.²

Over the centuries, Western people have learned to negotiate their innate fear of wolves by capturing them, dominating them, and, in many locations, bringing them almost to the brink of extinction. It seems, then, that humans' raw fear of the wolf eases when they can safely observe the animals from afar, confined to a cage or a managed [End Page S-272] roaming pen. In this case, the observer, now protected from the "savage beast" behind bars, perceives the wolf as controlled and tamed. The truth of the matter, of course, lies in the illusion that the wild has been stamped out of the captive wolf. Tellingly, at the same time, the very need to trap the wolf implicitly validates the wolf's superior physical strength and affirms its powers over humans.

Canonical Italian literature offers one important example of a tamed wolf. Chapter 21 of I Fioretti di San Francesco recounts the much beloved and inspirational story of Saint Francis of Assisi who searches the countryside for a very large, terrible and ferocious wolf ("uno lupo grandissimo e terribile e feroce"),³ demanding that it stop terrorizing the town of Gubbio, and requesting its promise to do so ("Promettimi tu questo?").⁴ The wolf, now turned obedient, trusting and no longer aggressive, peacefully puts its large paw into Saint Francis's extended hand. The two return to the village, as the wolf shows submission and deference, kneeling and lowering its head to prove its fidelity and commitment ("E il lupo, inginocchiandosi e inchinando il capo e con atti mansueti … dimostrava … di volere osservare loro ogni patto").⁵ As a reward for its obedience, the residents now invite it into their homes and glady feed it whenever it is hungry. Two years later, well integrated into the village's life, "Brother Wolf" dies of old age, mourned by all ("e fu nutricato cortesemente dalle genti. … Finalmente dopo di due anni frate lupo si morì di vecchiaia. Di che i cittadini molto si dolevano").⁶ While at first blush the legend of the wolf of Gubbio shows a happy and peaceful ending, in reality the reason why the wolf can coexist with the villagers is because its own, innate wild nature has been altered into acquiescence and compliance to the will of humans (albeit inspired by faith, humility and brotherly love) rather than dignifying its own biological existence. If wolves were to roam free and attack unarmed humans, the humans would inevitably lose the fight.

At first glance, it would appear that Gnà Pina, the protagonist of Giovanni Verga's short story "La Lupa" (1879), follows the fate of the wolves' marginalization and ultimate annihilation. Gnà Pina is feared by the villagers as an instinctual wild she-wolf looking for prey, hence the reason for her nickname. She roams the streets, her apparent uncontrollable sexuality free to victimize the men in town, ravaging [End Page S-273] her casualties (according to the villagers' lore) until—at least at a cursory reading of the short story—it appears that Nanni finishes her off with his axe at the end of the narrative.

This study looks at Verga's "La Lupa" and highlights the consequences of Gnà Pina's sexual freedom in the short story, and within the frame of a traditional patriarchal society such as Sicily during the late 1800s. Verga's short story manages to encapsulate in less than a handful of pages the cultural, mythical, and anthropological heritage...