And how goes it, Lady-friend? — My mood has been a little oppressed by the weather these last few days: still, it keeps aloft on the whole. The work is thriving, and I've a very odd feeling about it. Once I mentioned to you those Hindu women who leap into the odorous sea of flames. Surprising, how odours recall the past so vividly. On my walk the other day a sudden gush of rose-scent burst upon me: sideways stood a little garden, where the roses were just in full bloom. That recalled my last enjoying of the Asyl garden: never, as then, have I so concerned myself with roses. Every morning I plucked one, and set it in a glass beside my work: I knew I was taking farewell of the garden. With that feeling this odour has wholly inwoven: summer-heat, summer-sun, scent of roses, and — parting. Thus I then sketched the music for my second act.
What surrounded me then with such presence, such all but intoxicant presence, now lives anew as if in dream, — summer, sun, rose-scent, and — parting. Yet the heartache, the anguish is gone: all is transfigured. That is the mood in which I hope to bring my third act to a close now. Nothing can sorely afflict me, nothing cast me down: my existence is so utterly un-chained by Space and Time. I know that I shall live as long as I have work to do: so I don't worry my head about life, but go on working. When that comes to end, I shall know myself safe indeed; so I really am cheerful. —
Would that you also were!
May I count on a line soon?
Source: Richard Wagner to Mathilde Wesendonck, trans. William Ashton Ellis (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1905), No. 85