The unhappy impresario was on the verge of bankruptcy, and came to beg her aid. Maria Malibran refused, but offered to sing for him at his theatre for a fee of three thousand francs.
The company and orchestra, who had already half dispersed, were hastily reassembled, and de Bériot himself directed the rehearsals for "Somnambula." The announcement of the forthcoming performance created tremendous excitement,—seats fetched incredible prices; and on the night itself the hall was crammed to overflowing. The tenor was so affected that he suddenly stopped short, and for some minutes could not sing a note. The public began to murmur, and the whole success of the evening was in jeopardy, until Malibran came to the rescue. She at once commenced to sing the tenor music, and rendered it with such virility of accent and gesture that the public shouted with enthusiasm. What was more to the purpose, the tenor was able to recover himself after a few moments and take up his rôle again. At the fall of the curtain the ovation was tremendous,—indeed it seemed as if the applause would never come to an end.
Her generous action had been noised abroad throughout Venice, and when she went out people fought over bits of her shawl, her gloves, even her handkerchief, while all the gondolas formed a guard of honour as far as the Barbarigo Palace where she was staying. Scarcely had she entered when the Syndic of the gondoliers was announced. On being shown in, he presented a golden cup filled with wine, and begged her to touch it with her lips. From her balcony she saw the cup passed from hand to hand down that long flotilla, stretching away down to the "Riva del Carbone." Each boatman took a sip, but so small a one, fearing lest the wine should be exhausted before it had circulated among all his comrades, that when it came back into the hands of the Syndic it was still half full: seeing which, he poured the rest of the wine into the Grand Canal as a libation.
The total receipts of the performance were 10,500 francs, but nothing less than 15,000 could save the unhappy Gallo from bankruptcy. When he presented himself next day with the 3000 francs, as arranged, the tender-hearted artist discovered his predicament, and not only let him off her fee, but provided him with the further sum necessary for the settlement of his debt. Perhaps Alfred de Musset was thinking of this act of generosity when he wrote the lines—
| "Cet or deux fois sacré qui payait ton génie |
| Et qu'à tes pieds souvent laissa ta charité." |
In remembrance of this memorable performance, the municipality of Venice decided that the Theatre of Saint Jean Chrysostôme should be called henceforth the Théâtre Malibran.
The ensuing winter the prima donna spent at Milan, where the Duke of Visconti, director of La Scala, had offered her a contract for 185 performances, spread over two and a half years, for which she was to receive 450,000 francs. This visit to Milan marked the zenith of her fame, and is still referred to as "the glorious year." Here she pursued still further the studies, which she had already commenced, with regard to the reform of costume and scenery. Towards the realisation of her dreams she was supported by the Duke of Visconti, who, besides his connection with the opera house, was superintendent of the Academy of Art and Science. Reviving the ideas of Talma, she wished to introduce in the theatre artistic and archæological truth, and, with this aim in view, she had copies made of a quantity of costumes from the archives of Venice, and from the miniatures in some old manuscripts. From these designs dresses were made for many of the operas, notably "Otello." So great an interest did she take in the carrying out of this reform, that she always used to refer to it as "la grande affaire."
There are still extant not only a great number of the designs, which were copied by her orders, but several albums of sketches for which she was herself responsible, and these exhibit considerable dexterity, besides giving proof of the deep interest which she took in the scheme.
In the midst of all this work, and of numberless receptions at which she was ever the principal attraction, she made frequent appearances at the Scala in "Otello," "I Capuletti," "Norma," "Somnambula," and "Giovanna Grey." The enthusiasm of the public had never reached such a pitch before, and it is from this year that those stamps dated which bore her head, and were used to close letters: specimens of these are still to be seen, but they are extremely rare.
On the day of her departure her comrades at the theatre presented her with a finely executed medal of gold, in which she was depicted in the costume of "Norma"; while the governor expressed the hope of seeing her quickly back again. But it was never to be consummated.