The Flying Dutchman has once more gone across the stage here, and in its honour I yesterday occupied the conductor's seat again, after an interval of eight months. With the Flying Dutchman I left the orchestra for a time at the beginning of last March, and with the same work I resume my connection with the theatre for this season. You may assume that my passion for your tone- and word-poems is the only reason why I do not give up my activity as a conductor. Small as may be the result that I can achieve, it is not, I think, altogether illusory.
We have arranged a Wagner week; and the Flying Dutchman, Tannhäuser, and Lohengrin have taken firm ground and cast deep roots here. All the rest is moonshine to me, with the sole exception of Berlioz's Cellini. For this work I retain my great predilection, which you will not think uncalled for when you know it better.
Next week I shall have to rehearse Tell, and the opera will be given in a fortnight. Tannhäuser will follow immediately afterwards. As our new tenor, Dr. Liebert, a very willing, industrious, and gifted singer, has never sung the part, I shall go through it with him separately once or twice. In all probability the performance this year will be better than the previous ones.
The Flying Dutchman was given yesterday, to the increased satisfaction of the public. Milde and his wife acted and sang beautifully, and I may assume that you would have witnessed the performance without grumbling, although our weak chorus is a fatal evil. Four or five new engagements have been made for the chorus, but that of course is by no means sufficient.
Immediately after my return, I proposed to Zigesar to give Lohengrin with Tichatschek and Johanna, on the evening when the court visits the theatre again. The strict mourning will last several months still, and during that time the court box remains empty and dark. If no special impediments arise, that performance will take place. Up till then I shall conduct only your two operas, Tell and Dorn's Nibelungen.
Of my personal affairs I say nothing. The poor Princess sends her friendliest greetings. She is troubled with a large mass of correspondence of the most unpleasant kind. May God grant that next summer we enter a new stage of the status quo, and that our Zurich trip need not be delayed after the end of June. Your Rhinegold is ready, is it not? Bestir yourself, dearest friend. Work is the only salvation on this earth. Sing and write, therefore, and get rid of your brain abscess by that means. Perhaps your sleep will become a little more reposeful in the same manner.
Franz Liszt
Source: Project Gutenberg eBook #3835, Correspondence of Wagner and Liszt — Volume 1, No. 137