My dear, kind and poor child!
I have had myself wheeled over to my desk again today in order to send you one last greeting before the year is over. An ulcer on my lower shin, which at first seemed unworthy of attention, grew more painful as a result of too much exercise to which I subjected myself on Christmas Eve, so that I have been unable to leave my bed since early on Christmas Day, - at least until now, when I am writing to you. I had to put up with this ordeal as a bitter trial of my patience before finally being allowed to quit this strangely wonderful year! But how slight is this suffering in comparison to your own, of which you sent me such sad tidings in your recent letter! You cannot believe how utterly disheartened and world-weary it has made me feel, now that I recognize in what hopeless and disconsolate a state all that is dear and precious to me now languishes. And now to have to see such boundless misfortune inflicted upon you of all people - a misfortune, moreover, which you yourself had feared!
My soul is increasingly rent by sighs and oppressed by the most fearful anxiety: why make a show of getting by when each day brings with it only new and unforeseen torments! - And yet there may still be room for hope in your case! The fact that deafness is endemic in your family must of course be cause for serious concern, and I do not know whether it would not be more humane to prepare for the worst, rather than regard that possibility as something you could not bear to contemplate. For my own part, I must confess that I have often got used to the idea of being completely cut off from the world through the loss of my hearing. I believe I have suffered far more pain than I have ever known enjoyment as a result of all the shameful & vexatious things I have been forced to listen to. How extremely rarely have I felt genuine pleasure on listening to music, and how often, by contrast, has it caused me torment!
I cannot help recalling at this point that for some time my sole endeavour has been to obtain some respite from this sense; if I have made things difficult for myself in settling down and setting up house, it has generally been with the aim of avoiding all irritating noise, so that for some time now I have often maintained, paradoxically, that Beethoven’s misfortune was less great than mine; for I have not been allowed to hear what is beautiful and what I longed to hear, being constantly disturbed, instead, by all that is vulgar and loathsome. As a result, my longing for peace and quiet has grown so extreme that, coupled with my other experiences, I have completely cut myself off from any desire to hear my works performed. Even now this resignation gives me all the strength I need to resist unpreparedness, inadequacy and misrepresentation, so that I tell myself that I should prefer not to do something rather than do it inadequately. In spite of the enthusiasm of my young King, and in spite of the fact that he has now summoned Semper here to discuss with him a commission to build my theatre, - I still do not believe I shall ever really perform my works for myself and the rest of you, since my lack of faith in suitable performers is too great. Even now I would almost prefer not to fall into the temptation of wanting to hear them performed, but rather to enjoy the hushed silence all around me, and, if possible, not to disturb the peace of God. That, in truth, is how I feel! So you can see that it would not be particularly difficult and that it would require very little effort on my part to console you for what you fear will be the loss of your hearing. It occurred to me that it would be far worse for me if I were to go blind: it was objected to this that blind people are normally of a cheerful, calm and deeply contented disposition, whereas deaf people generally become mistrustful and gloomy. Here, too, I could adduce living proof to the contrary in the shape of your dear mother and aunt: in short, you see that it is within myself that I seek consolation for you in your distress, and that it is by no means impossible for me (and for me especially) to feel this. But does that not tell you everything? I know that what is terrible is not death but dying! - But perhaps you already have better news for me concerning the state of your health, indeed, I hope that this is so, for your news has left me deeply and sorely shaken, you poor, poor girl! How happy I should be to receive this comfort from you! - Would you - you of all people - be made very unhappy by it? I can scarcely think so! The very fact that I am working creatively and achieving results must mean more to you than what I create. Is that not so? -
The Bülows have been here since the 20th of November, and are now completely settled. Peter Cornelius finally arrived yesterday. In February I am expecting the Schnorrs for a brief preliminary visit. In April, May and June Tristan will be rehearsed and performed: I have every hope of obtaining only the very best performers for it, and that they will be entirely in sympathy with me: Mitterwurzer (Dresden - my old Wolfram - a man of sterling qualities) as Kurwenal, Beck (Vienna) as Marke. The performances are to be given in the small Residenz Theatre, not for the general public but for a select audience invited from far & near. That is the point I have now reached. In order to achieve the purity that my style and ideal demand what I now need above all is to exclude all those elements that have to do with existing opera-house routine. Only when we have reached the point at which my work of art is revealed before us in perfect purity and clarity can the wider public be admitted to the new and special theatre built according to my own designs, and then only on special holidays. Otherwise it is impossible to educate them. - Whether I shall achieve this, God only knows! I doubt in nothing, except in my performers and, ultimately, in my own intentions. Disgust! disgust! - It is stronger than any appetite! and, once again - not to hear at all is infinitely more worthy and more desirable than to hear what I have had to hear until now. -
Adieu! My precious child! Courage and patience in the New Year! A thousand good wishes to your family - who are mine as well! Sincere thanks for all your loyalty and love.
Yours,
R.W.
Source: Selected Letters of Richard Wagner, trans. and ed. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington (W. W. Norton & Company, 1988), No. 315