Broadbrim’s New York Letter.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 879, 4 January 1889, Page 8

Broadbrim’s New York Letter.

(Abridged.) It is about fifteen or sixteen years since New York ran crazy over the d«sbut of a. young Russian soprano whoso phenomenal voice promised to eclipse that of the world fl sweet nightingale, Patti, Par from beautiful, not even pretty, there was something about the new debutante, that indescribable s mething, that captivates women and turns the heads of men. Her singing was a wonder, her acting a revelation, but with lier matchless art was linked the curse of imperious waywardness and unreliability, which notwithstanding her talent made her more feared than courted ; managers who would have paved her pathway with gold, shrank affrighted at the ungovernable temper which brooked no guidance or control. After a trial of several seasons she finally departed for Europe, and the operatic world on this side lost sight of her Edison, Gerster and many others succeeded her, but the magic tones of tlio wayward Russian were not forgotten even in their triumphs, by the oharmed and exclusive oirolo that make up Mr MoAUister’s Court Roster of the Elite Four Hundred. The other day passing through Washington Square, that peculiar Bailiwick where Lias, Aapasia and Phrynne, almost touch elbows with some of the creamiest of our creme de la creme, my attention was directed to a very unpretentious house, and here, an utter wreck, was aIJ that remained of tho once wayward Diva Who would recognise in this stricken woman whose wondeiful voice is now hushed forever, the gifted child of genius and song, for whom mad crowds cried-Viva ? Viva \ 4 Diva Imperial ’ -=> the matchless syren that monarchs loaded with choice jewels, and who for years revelled in all tbe choicest luxuries of the earth. Here In this humble home, her mind almost in ruins, she sits and ponders and dreams upon the past ; hard penury oomes knocking at the door, gaunt want peers horridly in through the dingy casement. Does she realise her present wretched surroundings? perhaps not, perhaps in mercy the present is sealed to her, and she dreams on from day to day in the gilded glories of the past. A movement is now being made by some prominent musicians fce*e tq land Tier tq Europe, that shp may die among her friepds. Apd so one by one these idols of the past vanish and pass away. Only a bttle wh.le ago I went to hear Gerster, one of the brightest queens of song, and lovely as shes was gifted, and good as she was beautiful. O, how New York idolized and petted her. She was esneciallv a woman’s favourite, and no woman ;felt jealous of her husband s admiration of her, ,for she in her private bfe was sans reproche.. But the glorious organ that won her distinction and fortune .is gone. H was pitiable to see this beautiful woman trying still to oooupy the plaoe she once held in the affection and admiration of tfiP P«bH? 3 but he? power was gona and they tossed he? aside as heartlessly as !hey would a broken bauble to cry—lo ! to the Rising hun, But while speaking of prima donnas, Lydia Thompson io hack with U 8 again after an absence at many years, It must be t*W6Bfcy years at siuoe Lydia among us with her troope of blondes, whose 'jjcanVy oostume left nothing to be imagined where so much was lavishly disclosed. All the front seats in the parquette were engaged weeks in advance, and 1 am sorry to say it was not solfely by our jeuhesso doree, but lines of old bald-headed > sinners worshipped at the shrine of this goldenhaired divinity, and in a few weeks, despite the protests of the Becular press and the bitter denunciations of the religious P r ®?®* she and her blonde beauties carried the

town by storm, and after a triumphal march from one end of the United States tq the other, she returned to Albion’s Isle with a clear fifty thousand dollars. Sam Colville, her manager, bagged almost as much, and with his savings he purchased the lease of the l-lfch Street Theatre, which ho held to the time of his death. Lydia is with us once more, bright and beaming as ever. She kicks up her shapely little heels as lively as of yore, and sings with the vim of a girl of eighteen. lam afraid to think how old she is. I think I venture nothing when I say that one half of the audience which greeted her on the occasion of her first appearance have been in their graves for years. Sam Colville, her first manager in the United States, was buried over a year ago, and twothirds of the actors and actresses who appeared with her are now inhabitants of the Happy Hunting Grounds ; but Lydia seems to be immortal. Her houses have been crowded all the week, and half the dudes in town are orazy over her. Truly yours, Broadbrim.