The
delightful afternoon coffee at the Georgen-garten, the visits to
the Zoological gardens, where we always took our fresh rolls
along with our knitting-work in a basket, and then sat at a
little table in the open, and were served with coffee, sweet
cream, and butter, by a strapping Hessian peasant woman - all so
simple, yet so elegant, so peaceful.
We heard the best music at the theatre, which was managed with
the same precision, and maintained by the Government with the
same generosity, as in the days of King George. No one was
allowed to enter after the overture had begun, and an absolute
hush prevailed.
The orchestra consisted of sixty or more pieces, and the audience
was critical. The parquet was filled with officers in the gayest
uniforms; there were few ladies amongst them; the latter sat
mostly in the boxes, of which there were several tiers, and as
soon as the curtain fell, between the acts, the officers would
rise, turn around, and level their glasses at the boxes.
Sometimes they came and visited in the boxes.
As I had been brought up in a town half Quaker, half Puritan, the
custom of going to the theatre Sunday evenings was rather a
questionable one in my mind. But I soon fell in with their ways,
and found that on Sunday evenings there was always the most
brilliant audience and the best plays were selected.
