As the result of the imprudence a nervous fever set in, and she died
September 23d, 1836.
In one of the many notices of this great singer, these words are found:
"Madame Malibran's voice was a mezzo-soprano of great volume and purity,
and had been brought to absolute perfection by the severe training of
her father. Her private character was irreproachable. Few women have
been more beloved for their amiability, generosity, and professional
enthusiasm. Her intellect was of a high order, and the charms of her
conversation fascinated all who were admitted into the circle of her
intimate friends. Her benefactions amounted to such considerable sums
that her friends were frequently obliged to interfere for the purpose of
regulating her finances."
Many stories are told, which show her kindness of heart. The following
is one of pathetic interest:
In a humble room in one of the poorest streets of London, Pierre, a
faithful French boy, sat humming by the bedside of his sick mother.
There was no bread in the closet, and for the whole day he had not
tasted food. Yet he sat humming to keep up his spirits. Still at times
he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and he could scarcely keep the
tears from his eyes; for he knew that nothing would be so grateful to
his poor invalid mother as a good, sweet orange, and yet he had not a
penny in the world.
The little song he was singing was his own--one he had composed, both
air and words--for the child was a genius.
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