The future author of "Norma" and "La Sonnambula," Bellini, took his
first lessons in music from his father, an organist at Catania.[L] He
was sent to the Naples Conservatory by the generosity of a noble
patron, and there was the fellow-pupil of Mercadante, a composer who
blazed into a temporary lustre which threatened to outshine his
fellows, but is now forgotten except by the antiquarian and the lover
of church music. Bellini's early works, for he composed three before
he was twenty, so pleased Barbaja, the manager of the San Carlo and La
Scala, that he intrusted the youth with the libretto "Il Pirata," to
be composed for representation at Florence. The tenor part was written
for the great singer, Rubini, whose name has no peer among artists
since male sopranos were abolished by the outraged moral sense of
society. Rubini retired to the country with Bellini, and studied, as
they were produced, the simple touching airs with which he so
delighted the public on the stage.
La Scala rang with plaudits when the opera was produced, and Bellini's
career was assured. "I Capuletti" was his next successful opera,
performed at Venice in 1829, but it never became popular out of Italy.
The significant period of Bellini's life was in the year 1831, which
produced "La Sonnambula," to be followed by "Norma" the next season.
Both these were written for and introduced before the Neapolitan
public. In these works he reached his highest development, and by them
he is best known to fame. The opera-story of "La Sonnambula," by
Romani, an accomplished writer and scholar, is one of the most
artistic and effective ever put into the hands of a composer. M.
Scribe had already used the plot, both as the subject of a vaudeville
and a choregraphic drama; but in Romani's hands it became a
symmetrical story full of poetry and beauty. The music of this opera,
throbbing with pure melody and simple emotion, as natural and fresh as
a bed of wild flowers, went to the heart of the universal public,
learned and unlearned; and, in spite of its scientific faults, it will
never cease to delight future generations, as long as hearts beat and
eyes are moistened with human tenderness and sympathy. And yet, of
this work an English critic wrote, on its first London presentation:--
"Bellini has soared too high; there is nothing of grandeur, no touch
of true pathos in the commonplace workings of his mind. He cannot
reach the _opera semiseria_; he should confine his powers to the
musical drama, the one-act _opera buffa_." But the history of
art-criticism is replete with such instances.
"Norma" was also a grand triumph for the young composer from the
outset, especially as the lofty character of the Druid priestess was
sung by that unapproachable lyric tragedienne, the Siddons of the
opera, Madame Pasta. Bellini is said to have had this queen of
dramatic song in his mind in writing the opera, and right nobly did
she vindicate his judgment, for no European audience afterwards but
was thrilled and carried away by her masterpiece of acting and singing
in this part.
Bellini himself considered "Norma" his _chef-d'oeuvre_. A beautiful
Parisienne attempted to extract from his reluctant lips his preference
of his own works. The lady finally overcame his evasions by the query,
"But if you were out at sea, and should be shipwrecked----" "Ah!" he
cried, without allowing her to finish. "I would leave all the rest and
try to save 'Norma.'"
"I Puritani" was composed for and performed at Paris in 1834, by that
splendid quartette of artists, Grisi, Rubini, Tamburini, and Lablache.
Bellini compelled the singers to execute after _his_ style. While
Rubini was rehearsing the tenor part, the composer cried out in rage,
"You put no life into your music. Show some feeling. Don't you know
what love is?" Then changing his tone, "Don't you know your voice is a
gold-mine that has not been fully explored? You are an excellent
artist, but that is not sufficient. You must forget yourself and
represent Gualtiero. Let's try again." The tenor, stung by the
admonition, then gave the part magnificently. After the success of "I
Puritani," the composer received the Cross of the Legion of Honour, an
honour then not often bestowed. The "Puritani" season is still
remembered, it is said, with peculiar pleasure by the older
connoisseurs of Paris and London, as the enthusiasm awakened in
musical circles has rarely been equalled.
Bellini had placed himself under contract to write two new works
immediately, one for Paris, the other for Naples, and retired to the
villa of a friend at Puteaux to insure the more complete seclusion.
Here, while pursuing his art with almost sleepless ardour, he was
attacked by his fatal malady, intestinal fever.
"From his youth up," says his biographer Mould, "Vincenzo's eagerness
in his art was such as to keep him at the piano night and day, till he
was obliged forcibly to leave it. The ruling passion accompanied him
through his short life, and by the assiduity with which he pursued it
brought on the dysentery which closed his brilliant career, peopling
his last hours with the figures of those to whom his works owed so
much of their success. During the moments of delirium which preceded
his death, he was constantly speaking of Lablache, Tamburini, and
Grisi; and one of his last recognisable impressions was that he was
present at a brilliant representation of his last opera at the Salle
Favart." His earthly career closed September 23, 1835, at the age of
thirty-three.
On the eve of his interment, the Théâtre Italien reopened with the
"Puritani." It was an occasion full of solemn gloom. Both the
musicians and audience broke from time to time into sobs. Tamburini,
in particular, was so oppressed by the death of his young friend that
his vocalisation, generally so perfect, was often at fault, while the
faces of Grisi, Rubini, and Lablache too plainly showed their aching
hearts.
Rossini, Cherubini, Paer, and Carafa had charge of the funeral, and M.
Habeneck, _chef d'orchestre_ of the Académie Royale, of the music. The
next remarkable piece on the funeral programme was a _Lacrymosa_ for
four voices without accompaniment, in which the text of the Latin hymn
was united to the beautiful tenor melody in the third act of the
"Puritani." This was executed by Rubini, Ivanoff, Tamburini, and
Lablache. The services were performed at the Church of the Invalides,
and the remains were interred in Père Lachaise.
Rossini had ever shown great love for Bellini, and Rosario Bellini,
the stricken father, wrote to him a touching letter, in which, after
speaking of his grief and despair, the old man said--
"You always encouraged the object of my eternal regret in his labours;
you took him under your protection, you neglected nothing that could
increase his glory and his welfare. After my son's death, what have
you not done to honour my son's name and render it dear to posterity?
I learned this from the newspapers; and I am penetrated with gratitude
for your excessive kindness as well as for that of a number of
distinguished artists, which also I shall never forget. Pray, sir, be
my interpreter, and tell these artists that the father and family of
Bellini, as well as of our compatriots of Catania, will cherish an
imperishable recollection of this generous conduct. I shall never
cease to remember how much you did for my son. I shall make known
everywhere, in the midst of my tears, what an affectionate heart
belongs to the great Rossini, and how kind, hospitable, and full of
feeling are the artists of France."
Bellini was affable, sincere, honest, and affectionate. Nature gave
him a beautiful and ingenuous face, noble features, large, clear blue
eyes, and abundant light hair. His countenance instantly won on the
regards of all that met him. His disposition was melancholy; a secret
depression often crept over his most cheerful hours. We are told there
was a tender romance in his earlier life. The father of the lady he
loved, a Neapolitan judge, refused his suit on account of his inferior
social position. When Bellini became famous the judge wished to make
amends, but Bellini's pride interfered. Soon after the young lady, who
loved him unalterably, died, and it is said the composer never
recovered from the shock.