[...] The pains and pangs of birth have their victorious issue now in all this wealth of beauty. The love of a tender woman has made me happy; she dared to cast herself into an ocean of suffering and torment in order to say to me—"I love you!" Only he who knows all her tenderness can estimate how much she had to suffer. We were spared nothing—but as a result I am redeemed and she is blessedly happy because she knows it.
I have been alone for two months and feel renewed in all my being. I look at the world with other eyes than I have done hitherto. In a noble sense I have become indifferent to the world. [...] I face my outward lot with perfect patience; the thing that lifts me above the world has taken on a blessed and familiar aspect. [...] My work has become dearer than ever to me. I have just begun it again and it flows from my spirit like a gentle stream. [...]
I have my Erard now. It stands in a great echoing hall which serves me for a study. It is there that Tristan is to be finished this winter. The first act, dearest friend, is quite complete; send to Härtel's for the proof sheets of the full score which is already in print. I was interrupted in working out the second act, which I had just lightly sketched, by the recent catastrophe and the visits which preceded it. I have taken it up again now. It will be very beautiful and is to be finished and in print by the end of this year at latest. The last act is to follow by March, and if all goes as I hope, I shall witness a first performance about Easter. [...]
[...] Karl Ritter was pleasantly surprised by your unexpected greetings and returns them with the greatest warmth. He visited me last August in Zurich, where I got my first sight of him since the crisis of two years ago. I have wiped out remembrance of his folly without a word. He appears very devoted to me now. He does not get on with his wife. She remained at home. [...]
If you want to make my friend happy sometime, tell her that you are satisfied with me. She does not need comfort. She shares my happiness, the noblest happiness which can fall to the lot of a human soul. [...]
Source: Letters of Richard Wagner, Vol. 2, selected and ed. Wilhelm Altmann, trans. M. M. Bozman (J. M. Dent & Sons, 1927), No. 370