I
was most surprised at the exorbitant price and the variety of seats.
I counted twenty-six different kinds; it seems that every row has a
different price, else I don't understand how they could make such a
variety.
At last the overture began; I listened to it, saw the curtain rise,
looked at the fatal spot, and left after the first air. The door-
keeper followed me, took my arm, and wished to give me a return-
ticket; and when I told him that I did not require one, as I did not
intend to return, he said that it had only just commenced, and that
I ought to stop, and not have spent all the money for nothing. I
was unfortunately too little acquainted with the Swedish language to
explain the reason of my departure, so I could give him no answer,
but went away. I, however, heard him say to some one, "I never met
with such a woman before; she sat an hour looking at the curtain,
and goes away as soon as it rises." I looked round and saw how he
shook his head thoughtfully, and pointed with his forefinger to his
forehead. I could not refrain from smiling, and enjoyed the scene
as much as I should have done the second act of Mozart's Don
Giovanni.
I called for my friends at the royal palace, and spent the evening
very agreeably in the brilliantly-illuminated galleries of
antiquities and of pictures. I had the pleasure also of being
introduced to Herr Vogelberg. His modest, unpretending manners must
inspire every one with respect, even if one does not know what
distinguished talent he possesses.
The royal park is one of the finest sights in the neighbourhood of
Stockholm, and is one of the best of its kind. It is a fine large
natural park, with an infinity of groves, meadows, hills, and rocks;
here and there lies a country-house with its fragrant flower-garden,
or tasteful coffee and refreshment houses, which on fine Sundays are
filled with visitors from the town. Good roads are made through the
park, and commodious paths lead to the finest points of view over
sea and land.
The bust of the popular poet Bellmann stands on an open sunny spot,
and an annual festival is given here in his honour.
Deeper in the park lies the so-called Rosenthal (Rose valley), a
real Eden. The late king was so partial to this spot, that he spent
many hours in the little royal country-house here, which is built on
a retired spot in the midst of groves and flower-beds. In front of
the palace stands a splendid vase made of a single piece of
porphyry. I was told that it was the largest in Europe, but I
consider the one in the Museum of Naples much larger.
