to die.
During the evening there was an intermission of three-
quarters of an hour after the first act and one an hour long
after the second. In both instances the theater was totally
emptied. People who had previously engaged tables in the one
sole eating-house were able to put in their time very
satisfactorily; the other thousand went hungry. The opera was
concluded at ten in the evening or a little later. When we
reached home we had been gone more than seven hours. Seven hours
at five dollars a ticket is almost too much for the money.
While browsing about the front yard among the crowd between
the acts I encountered twelve or fifteen friends from different
parts of America, and those of them who were most familiar with
Wagner said that “Parsifal” seldom pleased at first, but that
after one had heard it several times it was almost sure to become
a favorite. It seemed impossible, but it was true, for the
statement came from people whose word was not to be doubted.
And I gathered some further information. On the ground I
found part of a German musical magazine, and in it a letter
written by Uhlic thirty-three years ago, in which he defends the
scorned and abused Wagner against people like me, who found fault
with the comprehensive absence of what our kind regards as
singing. Uhlic says Wagner despised “JENE PLAPPERUDE MUSIC,” and
therefore “runs, trills, and SCHNORKEL are discarded by him.” I
don’t know what a SCHNORKEL is, but now that I know it has been
left out of these operas I never have missed so much in my life.
And Uhlic further says that Wagner’s song is true: that it is
“simply emphasized intoned speech.” That certainly describes it
–in “Parsifal” and some of the operas; and if I understand
Uhlic’s elaborate German he apologizes for the beautiful airs in
“Tannh:auser.” Very well; now that Wagner and I understand each
other, perhaps we shall get along better, and I shall stop
calling Waggner, on the American plan, and thereafter call him
Waggner as per German custom, for I feel entirely friendly now.
The minute we get reconciled to a person, how willing we are to
throw aside little needless puctilios and pronounce his name
right!
Of course I came home wondering why people should come from
all corners of America to hear these operas, when we have lately
had a season or two of them in New York with these same singers
in the several parts, and possibly this same orchestra. I
resolved to think that out at all hazards.
TUESDAY.–Yesterday they played the only operatic favorite I
have ever had–an opera which has always driven me mad with
ignorant delight whenever I have heard it–“Tannh:auser.” I
heard it first when I was a youth; I heard it last in the last
German season in New York. I was busy yesterday and I did not
intend to go, knowing I should have another “Tannh:auser”
opportunity in a few days; but after five o’clock I found myself
free and walked out to the opera-house and arrived about the
beginning of the second act. My opera ticket admitted me to the
grounds in front, past the policeman and the chain, and I thought
I would take a rest on a bench for an hour and two and wait for
the third act.
In a moment or so the first bugles blew, and the multitude
began to crumble apart and melt into the theater. I will explain
that this bugle-call is one of the pretty features here. You
see, the theater is empty, and hundreds of the audience are a
good way off in the feeding-house; the first bugle-call is blown
about a quarter of an hour before time for the curtain to rise.
This company of buglers, in uniform, march out with military step
and send out over the landscape a few bars of the theme of the
approaching act, piercing the distances with the gracious notes;
then they march to the other entrance and repeat. Presently they
do this over again. Yesterday only about two hundred people were
still left in front of the house when the second call was blown;