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 grace.  Her carriage was exceedingly noble, and the face more expressive than handsome; her hair was black and glossy, and always worn in a simple style.  The eyes were dark and luminous, the teeth white and regular, and the countenance, habitually pensive in expression, was mutable in the extreme, and responsive to every emotion and feeling of the heart.  To quote from Mr. Chorley:  “She may not have been beautiful, but she was better than beautiful, insomuch as a speaking Spanish human countenance is ten times more fascinating than many a faultless angel-face such as Guido could paint.  There was health of tint, with but a slight touch of the yellow rose in her complexion; great mobility of expression in her features; an honest, direct brightness of eye; a refinement in the form of her head, and the set of it on her shoulders.”