October 9th, 1889
Mon Copin,
It’s been too long! How is it in America? I have yet to travel there. Is it as boring as they say? My brother-in-law described the place as desolate and dirty, but that was a few decades ago. I, on the other hand, will not set foot in that country until they begin to produce some decent musicians. Do they listen to the rocks for entertainment? They do need to catch up to the rest of the world. I just imagine men scuttling the earth without something as beautiful as music and my heart sighs for them. Do they let their children wander the land and pick at grasshoppers? I pity them.
Anyway, has Mother told you? Little Morell is taking up the pianoforte. I am so looking forward to hearing his first piece! I will thoroughly enjoy hearing him play. I do hope he becomes as good as his mother. I heard her play and she is quite gifted. I hope we can all gather for a dinner when you come back from your trip. Perhaps we can all play. You must bring your violin. Does that not sound positively delightful?
A night ago I heard Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade and I must say it was beyond words. My eyes welled with tears of an untold story; at least someone is beginning to compose music correctly. I heard Strauss’s Till Eulenspiegel’s Lustige Streiche and, my friend, it is mighty terrifying. It captivated neither me nor my heart. I felt nothing throughout the piece. I was, how shall I put this? Bored to death. There is no other way to describe it. I have never been so fidgety at a performance in my life. It is sad to know that such music exists in this world. It should be disposed of at once.
I have learned Gymnopedie No. 1 by Erik Satie. I am contemplating moving on to the next two, but I have yet to learn other pieces that are on my list. Have you heard it? It’s quite simple, but I do think it is wondrous. If you have not heard his pieces yet I suggest you do. Some of his works arouse such unexpected emotions.
Don’t forget to write back quickly! I know how you get with your writing. Instead of crumpling another sheet, pen a letter to me. Why waste another tree? You know I write in jest; I can’t wait to read your next novel. I very much enjoyed your last one. I did wish you had not let the grandmother die. Perhaps in this next one she comes back to life?
Remember to write back!
Much love! Your sister,
Lillian
