History

Rafael de la Cruz was born nameless and without parents, and simply began existing the moment he was left on the doorstep of a Franciscan priory (Santa María de los Ángeles) in Barcelona, Spain. There was nothing to indicate who his parents had been, nor why he was abandoned. He was not deformed or sickly, and the blanket and basket in which he was swaddled were of middling to cheap make — the kind of thing one could find at almost any market in the city.

With the aid of a midwife and wet nurse, one of the brothers took it upon himself to raise the child. Brother Gregori Lazzari was an Italian friar who had come to Santa María de los Ángeles to replace a brother who had passed, and had remained due to the favorable weather and the love he found for the community around the priory. It was he who named Rafael, and he who became determined to raise the boy. God had provided the child, he would say; surely it was not their place to defy God's wishes.

As Rafael grew, Brother Gregori did his best to ensure the boy was taught the love and word of God. At his insistence, Rafa learned his letters and some figures, but most important of all, he learned to love music. The priory had only a single small bell and a choir accompanied by Brother Gregori's guitar, but not far from it was a plaza where musicians would often play for coins and notoriety. Between his father and the plaza, Rafael learned guitar and to sing, and embraced his love of music.

As he grew older, he also began to write obsessively. Poems, short stories, grand tales... Anything that caught his imagination he would scribble down – and often would just as eagerly scratch it out in frustration. It was in his early teens that his temperament shifted, becoming more mercurial and extreme. Brother Gregori did his best to ensure that Rafael was content with his life, even if he could not offer (and indeed, did not wish to offer) the kind of luxuries the boy sighed over. It was this, and Rafael's burgeoning eye for the dancing girls of the city, and a dozen other small obsessions and arguments, that began to craft the rift between the young man and his father.

As would become his nature in the future, their fights were often interspersed with a tearful Rafael begging Gregori's forgiveness, and always receiving it. For a time, he would behave, only to once again turn his attentions to his passions – always to his father's disappointment and sorrow.

This was how things progressed, and even once Rafael was no longer living in the priory, his visits back 'home' would often end in arguments. Gregori wished him to make something of his life (and though he was reluctant to admit it, the Italian had always hoped that Rafael would follow in his footsteps and take monastic vows). Rafael wished to write and perform his music and plays, and would openly speak of his dream to be a famous artist. To this end he worked towards having any of his plays performed, and he finally succeeded when he was only seventeen. It was, admittedly, an unprofessional performance put on by the community around the little Franciscan priory, but it was a performance nonetheless.

The success of the local production gave Rafael the courage he needed to visit local theaters, and it was that determination which saw his first commercial success. The play was performed in a small theater, to modest crowds, but it was well-received and encouraged him to continue writing. A dozen operas and plays were begun and abandoned, and three years later Cariño was finally finished and performed at the Teatre Principal. This was the true beginning of his career.

Only a short two years later would he finish his magnum opus: El velo del cielo. An overnight success in Barcelona, it soon took the rest of Spain, and then Europe, by storm. Rafael had enjoyed a small amount of local fame with his other works, but it was El velo del cielo that gave him the recognition he had so long craved. For the next several years he toured Europe, saw the opera translated into Italian and English, and basked in the adoration of it all.

The problem was that each passing year saw less interest in his opera, and no matter the efforts made, there had been no real progress on any other project. There was poetry written, yes, but little else that Rafael was happy with. In time his star faded back to something close to irrelevancy, and he took up residence at the Royal Victoria Theater, in London. There he wrote a number of plays specifically for the theater; mediocre works to help pay his bills and support his overly gregarious habits. It was also there that he met Nellie Jones, a young actress who often acted as his muse.

For the past five years he has resided most commonly at the Vic, and written little he can be proud of. The swings of his mood have more often been brooding and sorrowful, and his writing was increasingly sparse. It had become his intention to return to Spain, and while he would threaten to do so regularly, never had the energy or ambition to see the threats through.

It was only very recently, watching a performance at the Royal Italian Opera, that Rafael has found his muse anew. The passion has reignited in him, and suddenly nothing is more important than finishing his next great work.