The future author of "Norma" and "La Sonnambula," Bellini, took his
first lessons in music from his father, an organist at Catania.*
* Bellini was born in 1802, nine years after his
contemporary and rival, Donizetti, and died in 1835,
thirteen years before.
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 of "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 chorégraphie
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 common-place 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 afterward 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 goldmine
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 Honor, an honor 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 equaled.
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 ardor, 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 recognizable 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-one.
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
vocalization, 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 labors;
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 honor 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 was said the composer never recovered from the
shock.