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. Francois Eugene 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 agreein