Every scrap of your news, beloved Friend, is a thought from you to me, and as such, the dearest greeting my heart could desire; so, many thanks for each communication, however short. Between us, indeed, it needs but a token now, as it were a visible bond to lead us through life, in presence of the infinity of that world-of-feeling to which we both belong. The weft of the mysterious weaver who intertwined the threads of our mutual fate is not to be unravelled, but only to be torn asunder; "Wisst Ihr, wie das ward!" —
I understand the gloom, the exhaustion you are feeling, and know what it must cost you to go to Russia. Nowhere can I find rescue or counsel, alas! for, altho' I wildly rack my brains, no light will come; so I would rather be silent, than try to comfort you with empty words of hope in which I have no belief myself. It is humanity's most mournful lot, to recognise an ill without the power to root it up; 'tis born with us, and like a leprous malady we pass it on against our will.
It was a pleasure to me to hear that you had met Frau v. Bissing at Löwenberg and Breslau; blessed are those who do good upon earth! They are in truth the only blessed! — Our friend has just left me; she stayed the night here, and we chatted of ne'er-to-be-forgotten happy hours.
Father Christmas has also been here; he said he was going to Vienna, to deck a friend's snug dwelling. I thought that very nice of him, and should dearly like to have kept him company. However, Father Christmas has a special privilege over all the world; so I only bade him be sure he went to the right man's house, and gave him his address. Now he begs a kindly welcome.
The children are brimful of anticipation. The tree is to be lit in the dining-room, surrounded by a glory of Raphaels; the effect will be quite fine.
Remember me to Cornelius, and do not forget
Your Mathilde Wesendonck.
Source: Richard Wagner to Mathilde Wesendonck, trans. William Ashton Ellis (Charles Scribner's Sons, 1905), No. 166