Great Singers, Second Series | Page 6

hard fate, which compelled her to
toil without ceasing for the support of the man who had deceived her
vilely, and for whom not one spark of love operated to condone his
faults. Five months utterly snapped her patience, and she determined to
return to Paris. She arrived there in September, 1826, and took up her
abode with M. Malibran's sister. Although she had become isolated
from all her old friends, she found in one of the companions of her days
of pupilage, the Countess Merlin, a most affectionate help and

counselor, who spared no effort to make her talents known to the
musical world of Paris, Mme. de Merlin sounded the praises of her
friend so successfully that she soon succeeded in evoking a great
degree of public curiosity, which finally resulted in an engagement.
Malibran's first appearance in the Grand Opéra at Paris was for the
benefit of Mme. Galli, in "Semiramide." It was a terrible ordeal, for she
had such great stars as Pasta and Sontag to compete with, and she was
treading a classic stage, with which the memories of all the great names
in the lyric art were connected. She felt that on the result of that night
all the future success of her life depended. Though her heart was struck
with such a chill that her knees quaked as she stepped on the stage, her
indomitable energy and courage came to her assistance, and she
produced an indescribable sensation. Her youth, beauty, and noble air
won the hearts of all. One difficult phrase proved such a
stumbling-block that, in the agitation of a first appearance, she failed to
surmount it, and there was an apprehension that the lovely singer was
about to fail. But in the grand aria, "Bel Raggio," she indicated such
resources of execution and daring of improvisation, and displayed such
a full and beautiful voice, that the house resounded with the most
furious applause. Mme. Malibran, encouraged by this warm reception,
redoubled the difficulties of her execution, and poured forth lavishness
of fioriture and brilliant cadenzas such as fairly dazzled her hearers.
Paris was conquered, and Mme. Malibran became the idol of the city,
for the novelty and richness of her style of execution set her apart from
all other singers as a woman of splendid inventive genius. She could
now make her own terms with the managers, and she finally gave the
preference to the Italiens over the Grand Opéra, at terms of eight
hundred francs per night, and a full benefit.
In voice, genius, and character Mme. Mali-bran was alike original. Her
organ was not naturally of first-rate quality. The voice was a
mezzo-soprano, naturally full of defects, especially in the middle tones,
which were hard and uneven, and to the very last she was obliged to go
through her exercises every day to keep it flexible. By the
tremendously severe discipline to which she had been subjected by her
father's teaching and method, the range of voice had been extended up

and down so that it finally reached a compass of three octaves from D
in alt to D on the third line in the base. Her high notes had an
indescribable sparkle and brilliancy, and her low tones were so soft,
sweet, and heart-searching that they thrilled with every varying phase
of her sensibilities. Her daring in the choice of ornaments was so great
that it was only justified by the success which invariably crowned her
flights of inventive fancy: To the facility and cultivation of voice,
which came from her father's training, she added a fertility of musical
inspiration which came from nature. A French critic wrote of her: "Her
passages were not only remarkable for extent, rapidity, and
complication, but were invariably marked by the most intense feeling
and sentiment. Her soul appeared in everything she did." Her
extraordinary flexibility enabled her to run with ease over passages of
the most difficult character. "In the tones of Malibran," says one of her
English admirers, "there would at times be developed a deep and
trembling pathos, that, rushing from the fountain of the heart, thrilled
instantly upon a responsive chord in the bosoms of all." She was the
pupil of nature. Her acting was full of genius, passion, and tenderness.
She was equally grand as Semiramide and as Arsace, and sang the
music of both parts superbly. Touching, profoundly melancholy as
Desdemona, she was gay and graceful in _Rosina_; she drew tears as
Ninetta, and, throwing off the coquette, could produce roars of laughter
as Fidalma. She had never taken lessons in poses or in declamation, yet
she was essentially, innately graceful. Mme. Malibran was in person
about the middle height, and the contour of her figure was rounded to
an enchanting embonpoint, which yet preserved its youthful