by Carmelo Neri*

This year marks the 150th anniversary of the transfer to Italy of the humble remains of Vincenzo Bellini, who died in 1835 in Puteaux, a suburb of Paris. It took forty-one years to complete this heartfelt repatriation, a delay caused by wars, political upheavals, severe epidemics and other unfortunate events. An attempt in 1866 also failed; as attested by the certified copy of a ‘statement by the Bellini family’, held in the State Archives of Catania, the French authorities, when approached, had made the handover of the deceased conditional upon the submission of a ‘letter of consent’ from the family. Subsequently, our Embassy in Paris, at the urging of the Italian Government, obtained authorisation for the ‘reinterment’, as is implied by these few lines published in Catania in “La Gazzetta del Circolo dei Cittadini”, no. 150, 21 May 1876:

BELLINI’S ASHES – The French Government has confirmed the imperial decree permitting the exhumation of Bellini’s remains; and that permission is now in the possession of the Italian Legation, to be handed over to the delegates from Catania, who will travel to Paris to receive the cherished ashes of our illustrious fellow citizen.

As the project was already feasible, the City Council of Catania commissioned a committee of distinguished citizens to travel to Paris; and, in a most fortunate decision, it was decided that Francesco Florimo, a Calabrian who had been Vincenzo’s fellow student in Naples and a close friend, should be included among them. He had maintained a regular correspondence with Florimo ever since the latter moved to Lombardy in 1827 ‘to pursue a career’, and was always generous in offering him help and advice; during those same years, he also exchanged many letters with Saverio Mercadante, another distinguished composer of operas, who, on 19 September 1831, wrote to him: ‘Do not forget me for even a single day, or I shall curse you.’ This alone suffices to show just how much Florimo’s friendship was appreciated and cherished.

Born in San Giorgio Morgeto, in the province of Reggio Calabria, on 10 October 1802 (the date of 12 October 1800 previously given in his biographical profiles is incorrect!), in 1876 the elderly librarian of the Naples Conservatoire was about to turn seventy-four, and it is precisely to this period of his life that we can attribute the portrait reproduced here, which shows him slightly receding at the temples and somewhat thinner. It was brought to the author’s attention with the utmost courtesy by Dr Giacomo Maria Oliva, with the permission for publication granted by the owner, Giuseppe Raco, his cousin, who is also a descendant of the Sangiorgese.

The excessive length of the journeys – first from Naples to Paris, then from Paris to Reggio Calabria, and finally by sea from the latter city to Catania – and, even more so, his advanced age, often accompanied by the ailments of old age, should have dissuaded the good Florimo from such a risky venture; instead, as soon as he received a letter dated 23 August 1876, inviting him to travel to France as a member of the aforementioned Commission, he accepted and set off immediately.

In that letter, Mayor Francesco Tenerelli communicated the following ‘notice’ to those concerned:

[…] each member of the Commission may travel at their own expense from their current place of residence to Paris, where they must arrive on the 10th of the coming September, and there enquire about the address of the hotel chosen by the Chair, where the members of the Commission are to meet.

Having set off from the capital of Campania at 4 pm on 29 August on a long-distance train (such trains already existed, complete with sleeping carriages and a restaurant service), he arrived in Turin on the evening of the 30th, having travelled some 900 kilometres; as he had to set off again the following morning, he spent the night in that city and took a room at the ‘great hotel in Turin’, namely the luxurious Grand Hotel de L’Europe in Piazza Castello, where writers such as Stendhal, Balzac, Dumas, Melville and Twain had stayed. On the 31st, he found himself back on a train which, after a three-hour journey, heralded by ‘a few blasts of the horn’, entered the Mont Cenis Tunnel, opened in 1871. At thirteen kilometres in length, this tunnel caused passengers some anxiety, as the exhaust fumes from the steam locomotives tended to seep into the carriages in those hellish tunnels; and, to avoid arriving at their destination with their clothes stained with soot, they had to keep the windows tightly shut. But Florimo had a different cause for unease, and he stated: ‘The journey [which lasted about half an hour – ed.] through that utter darkness shook me and filled me with a certain panic-stricken fear’.

The rest of the journey passed without a hitch, and on Friday 1 September 1876, after travelling some 750 kilometres, he returned to Paris for the eighth time. He had been there in 1867, and previously on 23 September 1851, when he returned to Naples carrying a rose, which he kept in an envelope on which he wrote: ‘Picked near the tomb of my dear Bellini’. Having arrived first, he had ample time to meet old friends, and a few days later he met the Marquis Antonino Paternò Castello di Sangiuliano, one of the delegates, who had travelled from Catania with his wife Enrichetta Statella, who had come to share ‘with her husband the labours of the pious pilgrimage’. He dedicated “La Translazione” [the spelling now in use is ‘traslazione’ – ed.] of Vincenzo Bellini’s ashes, published in Naples in 1877, to this young noblewoman; this work, reprinted in Florence with cuts and various amendments in 1882, became an integral part of his famous volume Bellini – Memorie e Lettere.

As it was necessary to contact a funeral parlour as soon as possible to arrange a sumptuous procession of the coffin from the Père-Lachaise cemetery to Lyon station, the negotiations were handled by Florimo himself, the Marquis of Sangiuliano and Prince Filangieri di Satriano, a historian and art collector who lived in the capital and was also a member of the Commission.

Their work was subsequently ‘not only approved, but praised’ by the other delegates, who had gathered at a hotel on 10 September under the chairmanship of Prince Enrico Grimaldi di Serravalle; on that occasion, every care was taken to ensure that the handover of what remained of the immortal opera composer took place in an orderly manner and with the valuable assistance of the Italian Embassy, which was present ‘in full force’ at the ceremony.

Florimo, admiring the exceptional skill of the young Costantino Resmann (Trieste, 1832–Paris, 1899), who, as deputy to Ambassador Enrico Cialdini, managed to overcome certain ‘difficulties’ that seemed insurmountable (Translazione…, 1882 ed., pp. 165–166), felt compelled to pay tribute to him with these words:

          Cav. Resmann, who represents Italy in General Cialdini’s absence, and to whose efforts the order and honours paid to Bellini’s memory are largely due, contributed greatly to the splendour of this ceremony and proved most helpful in smoothing over the difficulties which, without his intervention, would scarcely have been surmounted.

On the 13th, in order to ascertain the state of preservation of Bellini’s tomb, a labourer was called in to carry out excavations. The entire wooden coffin appeared to have been reduced to ‘shards’, and Florimo reported the following (Translazione…, 1882 ed., p. 162):

[…] There, a labourer was already disturbing the sacred soil covering the coffin; the earth removed from beneath the monument – which it was decided to leave intact [to serve as a ‘cenotaph’ – ed.] – had been cast to either side, and I could already make out the fragments of the original wooden coffin, weathered by time.

This inspection confirmed that the internal metal lining had effectively protected the body, which had been embalmed in 1835. In the telegram transcribed here from p. 347 of Antonino Amore’s book, Vincenzo Bellini – Vita Studi e Ricerche, published in Catania in 1894, Prince Grimaldi informed Mayor Tenerelli of this:

Paris, 13th – Exhumation on Friday (15th), departure on Saturday – Grand ceremony attended by the authorities, the embassy, and prominent figures from the arts, politics and literature – A military contingent may be present – Thomas, Barbier and Maquet are expected to deliver speeches – Excavation has begun; the coffin is in excellent condition.

On 15 September, following the examination of the body, it was transferred to a new coffin; Dr Vito Bonato drew up ‘the report of the examination’, and the coffin containing the remains was blessed ‘with religious rites amidst universal reverence’.

This was followed by various speeches which the Sangiorgese, in his moving account of those events, chose to transcribe so that future generations might learn of them. It also happened that, in a historic painting measuring 95 x 135 cm, the painter Giuseppe Lorenzo Gatteri reproduced ‘with the utmost accuracy’ an image of that ceremony, which lasted from ten o’clock until around midday in the presence of political and military figures, as well as ordinary citizens. Looking at this painting from left to right, one can recognise: 1) Baron Rosario Currò junior, holding his hat in his left hand; 2) behind him, Prince Enrico Grimaldi; 3) Gaetano Ardizzoni, standing slightly apart behind the president; in his speech, he stated that much gratitude was owed to the ‘noble land of France’, which had hosted Bellini with great generosity and had enhanced his glory; 4) to Grimaldi’s left, Lisandro Desideri, commander of the municipal guards of Catania; 5) Antonino Paternò Castello di Sangiuliano, behind Baron Currò; he spoke first, in French; 6) Rosario Currò senior, father of the aforementioned, paying tribute to Bellini, whom he had met in Catania in 1832; 7) to the right of the priest, Costantino Resmann, then a young Italian diplomat in Paris; 8) Francesco Florimo, depicted wiping away with a handkerchief the tears he could not hold back due to the overwhelming emotion of seeing, after forty-four years, ‘the mortal remains’ of his friend; 9) to his left is perhaps the master Pietro Platania; 10) the Marquise Enrichetta.

This painting, which was once in the possession of the Currò family, is now housed in the Carlo Schmidl Theatre Museum in Trieste, whilst the Vincenzo Bellini Museum in Catania holds a photographic enlargement of it, which was donated around 1930 by ‘Comm. Cesare Cambiaggio Currò’; it should be noted, however, that the existence of the painting had already been known since 1901, as a reproduction was included on p. 276 of the volume Omaggio a Bellini on the first centenary of his birth. It stands to reason that Gatteri was commissioned to undertake such a demanding task by Rosario Currò, who, having been born in Acireale, had left Sicily in 1836 and, after living for several years in Catania, established the headquarters of his flourishing commercial enterprise in Trieste, which enabled him to become extremely wealthy and the owner of two ships. The city on the slopes of Mount Etna, grateful for the generous aid it had received from him during a cholera epidemic in 1867 – which claimed more than three thousand lives – dedicated a square to him in the historic centre and, in 1876, appointed him a member of the Commission sent to Paris. It is worth quoting here the last words spoken by the distinguished baron at the Père-Lachaise cemetery:

[…] And now, fellow citizens and friends, I invite you to carry on our shoulders, to the funeral carriage that awaits them, those dear, most precious remains, which we shall guard vigilantly until they reach the earth that calls them home, where, laid to rest in eternal sleep, we shall present them to the world as our very own glory; where, prostrate before the tomb that enfolds them, we and our children shall seek inspiration from the beautiful, the true and the sublime, of which that great man was a devotee and master.

What took place in the French capital, and elsewhere in the days that followed – culminating in the repatriation of the ashes and solemn celebrations in Catania – is recounted in greater detail in Florimo’s chronicle, which remains the principal source of information for scholars. Without his detailed account, we would be largely in the dark about that legendary event, even though the newspapers and periodicals of the time covered it in numerous articles. Jacopo Caponi (Folchetto) was also a witness to the events; as the Paris correspondent for Fanfulla della Domenica, a ‘political and literary weekly’, he sent various reports concerning Bellini, including the following, dated 19 September 1876:

At around one o’clock, the coffin was placed upon a magnificent eight-horse hearse; followed by a considerable crowd, flanked by two rows of soldiers paying their respects, the imposing procession made its way to Lyon station [that is: the line leading to Turin via Lyon – ed.], passing through working-class neighbourhoods amidst a vast number of male and female workers who swarmed from all directions to catch a glimpse of it. At half past one, it reached its first destination, where the final official act took place: the embassy affixed its seals to the triple tricolour ribbon with which it was wrapped.

Apart from Florimo’s work, there are two other comprehensive accounts of the entire affair: that of Antonino Amore, which can be found in the chapters ‘Translazione’, ‘Attraverso l’Italia’ and ‘Apoteosi’ of the volume mentioned above, and the one, enriched with rare photographs (some of which were provided by Maestro Ascanio Bazan, the Catanese’s great-nephew), compiled by Giuseppe Giuliano under the heading ‘1876’ in the aforementioned Omaggio a Bellini. A well-known account of the extraordinary ‘Bellini celebrations’ and the immense jubilation of the vast crowd that welcomed the remains of their most illustrious son back to his hometown is a piece by the fifteen-year-old Federico De Roberto (1861–1927), which appeared on 15 October 1876 in issue no. 51 of “L’Illustrazione Italiana”.

After departing from Paris at eight o’clock on 16 September, the train carrying the funeral cortege arrived in Turin at nine o’clock on Sunday 17 September, the very city through which Bellini had passed by stagecoach in 1833, en route to London and unaware of his cruel fate. This visit was announced as follows on p. 212 of the “Gazzetta Piemontese” on Thursday 11 April 1833:

– Foreigners arriving in Turin: Giuditta Pasta, opera singer, from Milan, travelling from Milan; D. Vincenzo Bellini, music master, from Catania, travelling from Milan, bound for London.

In the city of the Mole, the musician from Catania – a man with a penchant for refinement and distinction – found not only excellent friends but also a certain Mr Festa, who became his trusted tailor. He met him in October 1829, whilst staying there for a week, and had him take his measurements ‘for all his clothes’, as we learn from a letter he wrote to Alessandro Lamperi, dated 7 February 1831. It is therefore highly likely that the frock coat now on display at the prestigious Museum of Costume, housed in Donnafugata Castle in the province of Ragusa, is the work of Festa.

This visit is mentioned in another report in the “Gazzetta Piemontese”, no. 132, dated 3 November 1829, p. 783, which reads as follows:

      Maestro Vincenzo Bellini, from Catania in Sicily, a pupil in composition under the renowned Zingarelli at the Royal Conservatoire of Naples, spent a few days in this capital, and the members of our Philharmonic Academy took great pains to show how highly they regarded the celebrated composer of “Il Pirata” and “La Straniera”. As this was not the season for public concerts, he was nevertheless invited to attend a rehearsal of the singing school, during which the pupils of the two classes performed various concerted pieces from Haydn’s oratorio “The Creation” with accompaniment by harpsichord and a double quartet. Maestro Bellini applauded the young singers several times during the performance and, being the gentleman that he is, addressed them afterwards with warm words of encouragement and praise, accompanied by excellent advice, which showed him to be well worthy of that name which, at the age of just twenty-three [in truth, he was turning twenty-eight – ed.], already resounds with glory not only throughout Italy but also on the banks of the Seine, a name not easily bestowed upon foreigners. Furthermore, celebrated by the Academicians during his stay, he received, before his departure, the diploma of Honorary Academician conferred upon him by the Council of the Academy.

As it was necessary to wait almost a whole day in Turin before resuming the journey – this perhaps being a stopover agreed as part of the itinerary, in consultation with the city’s leading authorities – it was decided to place the coffin on a high catafalque in the antechamber of the ‘Sala del dazio’ at Porta Nuova station. A huge number of people went there to pay their respects, and a number of speeches were made; Mayor Felice Rignon, who spoke first, began by stating that in the sombre times when Italy, ‘oppressed and divided’, had no voice amongst the nations, ‘the genius of Art upheld the honour of our land, winning it glory and goodwill throughout the civilised world’.

Having spent the night at the city’s most prestigious hotel (the very same where Florimo had stayed on the night of 30–31 August), the members of the Commission were back at the station on Monday morning, 18 September, ready to board a ‘special train, known as the Salon’, chartered by Catania City Council and reserved exclusively for them. Joining the party, to represent the City of Turin in Catania, was the elderly Count Carlo Corsi di Bosnasco (Nizza Monferrato, 1798–1885), a councillor on that city council and a senator of the Kingdom. In fact, they set off on a train consisting of two groups of carriages joined together: the first, shorter section comprised the closed carriage carrying the coffin and two or three luxuriously furnished carriages for the Commission’s use; the second was the usual service, comprising a few dozen carriages, which ran daily – save perhaps on public holidays – between Piedmont and Apulia.

This was implicitly suggested by Florimo on p. 193 of La Translazione… (1882 ed.), when he wrote that at Massafra, on the stretch between Bari and Taranto, he alighted from the train

[…] a resident of that picturesque little town, who had been travelling with us, approached the Commission’s carriage and offered apologies on behalf of the Municipality of Massafra, which had not been informed of the passage of the illustrious ashes.

Among the service stops mentioned by the Sangiorgese was that of Bologna, where the train, at around three o’clock in the morning, was received by the prefect Luigi Gravina (1829–1910), originally from Catania; but, given the late hour, the stop was brief. In Bari, where the train arrived on the evening of Tuesday 19th, the welcome was warm and truly unforgettable, thanks to the many ceremonies that took place there. As the train departed the following day at 2.30 pm, it is likely that this interval was used to allow the delegates to rest in a hotel. As soon as the first direct service to Calabria became available, the carriages escorting the hearse – which had already been detached from the arriving train – were coupled to the locomotive and the usual public service carriages for the journey between the Apulian capital and Reggio Calabria.

Meanwhile, the Guiscardo remained anchored (this is not certain, but it is highly likely) in the port of Taranto, awaiting instructions and the order to set sail from the relevant ministry. When the train carrying the funeral procession arrived in this city, as Florimo reported, the crowd’s enthusiasm ‘reached near-hysteria’, causing excessive delays, and, late at night, a ‘railway conductor’ was forced to urge the journey to resume. During the journey, at the stations where stops were scheduled according to the timetable, people who knew of the train’s arrival would rush out ‘in celebration’, eager to see this extraordinary procession.

Having travelled the entire length of the Ionian coast, the ‘long train’ (as Florimo described it) arrived in Reggio at around ten o’clock on Thursday 21 September, and the members of the Commission, who must have been extremely tired, were put up in a hotel called ‘della Vittoria’.  As in Turin, they had to wait a whole day, and the Guiscardo – the exact time of whose arrival in the harbour is unknown – had not yet arrived. In the meantime, Florimo was delighted and amazed to witness the marvellous initiatives organised by the city of Reggio to celebrate the glorious composer of Norma. Prince Grimaldi was also surprised by this, and declared:

        I do hope that my hometown, Catania, will match Reggio in the warm welcome bestowed upon us, and in the splendid celebration with which it chose to mark the passage of Bellini’s remains!

The loading of the coffin, scheduled for ten o’clock on 22 September, drew thousands of people to the harbour as early as seven o’clock. The historian of San Giorgio Morgeto, in describing the transfer of the coffin from a quay onto a launch to be loaded onto the corvette, omitted a tragicomic detail with an ellipsis – a detail that the biographer Antonino Amore also left out. This little mystery was later revealed on p. 279 of Omaggio a Bellini, in the final lines reproduced here:

22 September 1876. – At 10.00 a.m., the coffin, placed upon a carriage drawn by six richly harnessed horses, sets off for the harbour.

The procession passes beneath a magnificent triumphal arch. From the station to the harbour, the balconies are packed with people. A veritable shower of flowers falls.

In front of the embarkation point is inscribed: People of Reggio – crowned with honours and tributes – The remains of the divine man from Catania – Whom Italian music – knew how to elevate to infinite splendour – in the poignant arias – of “Norma”.

The final rites are performed. A boat with a richly velvet-covered deck, whose oarsmen are dressed in mourning, approaches, and the coffin – which, to everyone’s great trepidation, was already about to fall into the sea – is placed inside it and transported onto the steam corvette Guiscardo, whose bow is set towards Catania.

The mayor, Baron Luigi Palizzi, and the Reggio Calabria brass band were also on board the Guiscardo, which encountered calm seas and had no need to sail quickly. Entering the port of Catania ‘with the flag at half-mast and the bow draped in black’, the ship moved very slowly towards its berth, and at around 6.00 pm, as De Roberto recounted, as daylight faded,

[…] the lights began to be lit. Within five minutes, the sea was covered with wandering red dots [a term then in use for ‘wandering’ – ed.]. At 6.10, the signal flares were lit at the lantern. Huge bonfires blazed along the coast and, from the heights of the Salvatore, multicoloured rockets streaked across the sky; firecrackers exploded and the ‘mortaletti’ [these were cartridges filled with gunpowder which, when lit, exploded with a loud bang – ed.] added their roar to the enchanting scene.

*Carmelo Neri was born in Giffone (Reggio Calabria) and resides in Motta Sant’Anastasia (Catania). After graduating in 1968 with a degree in Modern Literature from the University of Messina with a thesis on the musician Nicola Antonio Manfroce, he has authored numerous publications in various journals and in the program notes for the Teatro Massimo in Catania. He has conducted long and passionate research on the aforementioned composer from Palmi and, above all, on Bellini, whom he has focused on in the following books: Lettere di Vincenzo Bellini (1819-1835), 1991; Bellini e Giuditta Turina. Storia documentata di un amore infelice, 1998; Guida illustrata del Museo Civico Belliniano, 1998; Bellini morì di veleno? I diabolici intrighi del Pacini e della contessa Samoyloff, 2000; Caro Bellini… Lettere edite e inedite a Vincenzo Bellini, 2001; Vincenzo Bellini. Nuovo epistolario 1819-1835 (con documenti inediti), 2005; Bellini e la figlia dello zar. Fatti e misfatti della contessa Giulia von Pahlen Samoyloff, 2010; Rittrato biografico di Vincenzo Bellini, 2016; Lettere di Vincenzo Bellini a Francesco Florimo (1828-1835), 2022; Vincenzo Bellini. Memorie storiche e lettere allo zio Ferlito (In appendice: Il testamento di Francesco Florimo), 2025.