an audacious and superb improvisation. Thunders of 
applause greeted her, and while trembling with excitement she felt her 
arm grasped by a hand of iron. "Briccona!" hissed a voice in her ear, as 
Velluti glared on her, gnashing his teeth with rage. After performing in 
London, she appeared in the autumn with her father at the Manchester, 
York, and Liverpool Festivals, where she sang some of the most 
difficult pieces from the "Messiah" and the "Creation." Some said that 
she failed, others that she sang with a degree of mingled brilliancy, 
delicacy, and sweetness that drew down a storm of applause.
II. 
Garcia now conceived a project for establishing Italian opera in the 
United States, and with characteristic daring he set sail for America 
with a miserable company, of which the only talent consisted of his 
own family, comprising himself, his son, daughter, and wife, Mme. 
Garcia having been a fairly good artist in her youth. The first opera 
produced was "Il Barbiere," on November 29, 1825, and this was 
speedily followed by "Tancredi," "Otello," "Il Turco in Italia," "Don 
Giovanni," "Cenerentola," and two operas composed by Garcia 
himself--"L'Amante Astuto," and "La Figlia dell' Aria," The young 
singer's success was of extraordinary character, and New York, 
unaccustomed to Italian opera, went into an ecstasy of admiration. 
Maria's charming voice and personal fascination held the public 
spellbound, and her good nature in the introduction of English songs, 
whenever called on by her admirers, raised the delight of the 
opera-goers of the day to a wild enthusiasm. 
The occurrence of the most unfortunate episode of her life at this time 
was the fruitful source of much of the misery and eccentricity of her 
after-career. M. François Eugène Malibran, a French merchant, 
engaged in business in New York, fell passionately in love with the 
young singer, and speedily laid his heart and fortune, which was 
supposed to be great, at her feet. In spite of the fact that the suitor was 
fifty, and Maria only seventeen, she was disposed to accept the offer, 
for she was sick of her father's brutality, and the straits to which she 
was constantly put by the exigencies of her dependent situation. Her 
heart had never yet awakened to the sweetness of love, and the 
supposed great fortune and lavish promises of M. Malibran dazzled her 
young imagination. Garcia sternly refused his consent, and there were 
many violent scenes between father and daughter. Such was the 
hostility of feeling between the two, that Maria almost feared for her 
life. The following incident is an expressive comment on the condition 
of her mind at this time: One evening she was playing _Des-demona_ 
to her father's Othello, in Rossini's opera. At the moment when Othello 
approaches, his eyes sparkling with rage, to stab Desdemona, Maria 
perceived that her father's dagger was not a stage sham, but a genuine
weapon. Frantic with terror, she screamed "Papa, papa, for the love of 
God, do not kill me!" Her terrors were groundless, for the substitution 
of the real for a theatrical dagger was a mere accident. The audience 
knew no difference, as they supposed Maria's Spanish exclamation to 
be good operatic Italian, and they applauded at the fine dramatic point 
made by the young artist! 
At last the importunate suitor overcame Gar-cia's opposition by 
agreeing to give him a hundred thousand francs in payment for the loss 
of his daughter's services, and the sacrifice of the young and beautiful 
singer was consummated on March 23, 1826. A few weeks later 
Malibran was a bankrupt and imprisoned for debt, and his bride 
discovered how she had been cheated and outraged by a cunning 
scoundrel, who had calculated on saving himself from poverty by 
dependence on the stage-earnings of a brilliant wife. The enraged 
Garcia, always a man of unbridled temper, was only prevented from 
transforming one of those scenes of mimic tragedy with which he was 
so familiar, into a criminal reality by assassinating Malibran, through 
the resolute expostulations of his friends. Mme. Malibran instantly 
resigned for the benefit of her husband's creditors any claims which she 
might have made on the remnants of his estate, and her New York 
admirers had as much occasion to applaud the rectitude and honor of 
the woman as they had had the genius of the artist. Garcia himself, 
hampered by pecuniary difficulties, set sail for Mexico with his son and 
younger daughter, to retrieve his fortunes, while Maria remained in 
New York, tied to a wretch whom she despised, and who looked on her 
musical talents as the means of supplying him with the luxuries of life. 
Mme. Malibran's energy soon found a vent in English opera, and she 
made herself as popular on the vernacular as she had on the Italian 
stage. But she soon wearied of her    
    
		
	
	
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