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He had been brought to the Opera House under a misapprehension. His aunt, the Archduchess Annunciata, had strongly advocated “The Flying Dutchman,” and his English governess, Miss Braithwaite, had read him some inspiring literature about it. So here he was, and the Flying Dutchman was not ghostly at all, nor did it fly. It was, from the royal box, only too plainly a ship which had length and height, without thickness. And instead of flying, after dreary aeons of singing, it was moved off on creaky rollers by men whose shadows were thrown grotesquely on the sea backing....FROM THE BOOKS.
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