parts of "Parsifal" anything that might with confidence be called rhythm
or tune or melody; one person performed at a time--and a long time,
too--often in a noble, and always in a high-toned, voice; but he only
pulled out long notes, then some short ones, then another long one, then
a sharp, quick, peremptory bark or two--and so on and so on; and when
he was done you saw that the information which he had conveyed had not
compensated for the disturbance. Not always, but pretty often. If two of
them would but put in a duet occasionally and blend the voices; but no,
they don't do that. The great master, who knew so well how to make
a hundred instruments rejoice in unison and pour out their souls in
mingled and melodious tides of delicious sound, deals only in barren
solos when he puts in the vocal parts. It may be that he was deep, and
only added the singing to his operas for the sake of the contrast it
would make with the music. Singing! It does seem the wrong name to
apply to it. Strictly described, it is a practicing of difficult and
unpleasant intervals, mainly. An ignorant person gets tired of listening
to gymnastic intervals in the long run, no matter how pleasant they may
be. In "Parsifal" there is a hermit named Gurnemanz who stands on the
stage in one spot and practices by the hour, while first one and then
another character of the cast endures what he can of it and then retires
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 o