Ireland

Once again, a move! This time to Ireland , my homeland, which I scarcely knew, since I had left it at the age of three. My joy was not great, for I saw no prospect of satisfying my hunger for music.

In the meantime, I had mastered Rode’s beautiful A‑minor Concerto and a Viotti Concerto without too much difficulty. Now I felt drawn to the G‑minor Concerto by Max Bruch , which I tackled with more enthusiasm than skill. But working entirely alone, without any guidance, it presented many technical riddles to me.

My grandfather, Hercules MacDonnell , who followed my desperate struggle with sympathy, pressed a gold coin (20 English shillings) into my hand one day – to my astonishment – saying: “Here, let Prof. Guido Papini give you a few lessons with this.” Delighted, I went to Papini, who was very kind and agreed at once to give me three lessons for it. Papini must once have been a good violinist and artist, but he was now old and ill, and also a morphine addict . Yet some things he showed me remained with me and helped me further.

The most important, however, was that he brought me in as his assistant at the Music Academy in Dublin . There I had to teach the youngest children, and in return I received lessons from him. I received no money, but neither did I have to pay anything — which was good, for now I no longer needed to ask my relatives for permission.

My grandfather MacDonnell and Sir Francis Brady had founded the Music Academy in Dublin, and it may be of some interest that I, his granddaughter, introduced the chamber‑music class there — which still exists today. It was not easy, for when I asked the directress for permission, she agreed on the condition that I find enough good players to participate. I had won a silver medal at an Irish music festival, but that did not help me much. So I went upstairs and downstairs, asking anyone who seemed suitable. But, as one knows, the Irish rarely say yes or no; it was always: “I shall see… I must think about it… perhaps.” But I did not give up, and in the end the class truly came into being.

My violin progress was not very great; the lessons were too irregular and often did not take place at all, so that I was often in despair. At that time, I met the very gifted young musician Herbert Hamilton Harty . He later became the piano accompanist of the famous violinist Fritz Kreisler , and afterwards the successor of the conductor Hans Richter in Manchester . A long‑lasting friendship bound me to him.

After two years — the only bright spot in that period — came the beginning of organ lessons at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin , which delighted me greatly. But I said to myself: “This cannot go on; I must do something to rouse my dear relatives.”

So, one day, I announced to my mother that I was not willing to go on muddling through , that I absolutely wanted to go to the Music Academy in London , and if the family would not allow it, then I would become a street musician. My deeply alarmed mother implored the relatives to grant my wish, for she feared — quite rightly — that I would carry out my threat. I would have shrunk from nothing to achieve my will.

The relatives were very unpleasantly shocked that someone from their refined family should choose so low a profession, but finally, it seemed better to them than my becoming a street musician. Thus permission was granted, and at last, at the age of 19, I came to the Royal Academy of Music in London .