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world； there is nothing going on； it is always Sunday。 The
pilgrim wends to his temple out of town； sits out his moving
service； returns to his bed with his heart and soul and his body
exhausted by long hours of tremendous emotion； and he is in no
fit condition to do anything but to lie torpid and slowly gather
back life and strength for the next service。 This opera of
〃Tristan and Isolde〃 last night broke the hearts of all witnesses
who were of the faith； and I know of some who have heard of many
who could not sleep after it； but cried the night away。 I feel
strongly out of place here。 Sometimes I feel like the sane
person in a community of the mad； sometimes I feel like the one
blind man where all others see； the one groping savage in the
college of the learned； and always； during service； I feel like a
heretic in heaven。
But by no means do I ever overlook or minify the fact that
this is one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life。 I
have never seen anything like this before。 I have never seen
anything so great and fine and real as this devotion。
FRIDAY。Yesterday's opera was 〃Parsifal〃 again。 The others
went and they show marked advance in appreciation； but I went
hunting for relics and reminders of the Margravine Wilhelmina；
she of the imperishable 〃Memoirs。〃 I am properly grateful to her
for her （unconscious） satire upon monarchy and nobility； and
therefore nothing which her hand touched or her eye looked upon
is indifferent to me。 I am her pilgrim； the rest of this
multitude here are Wagner's。
TUESDAY。I have seen my last two operas； my season is
ended； and we cross over into Bohemia this afternoon。 I was
supposing that my musical regeneration was accomplished and
perfected； because I enjoyed both of these operas； singing and
all； and； moreover； one of them was 〃Parsifal；〃 but the experts
have disenchanted me。 They say：
〃Singing！ That wasn't singing； that was the wailing；
screeching of third…rate obscurities； palmed off on us in the
interest of economy。〃
Well； I ought to have recognized the signthe old； sure
sign that has never failed me in matters of art。 Whenever I
enjoy anything in art it means that it is mighty poor。 The
private knowledge of this fact has saved me from going to pieces
with enthusiasm in front of many and many a chromo。 However； my
base instinct does bring me profit sometimes； I was the only man
out of thirty…two hundred who got his money back on those two operas。