Years of Study

My happiness knew no bounds when I finally entered the famous music school in London in 1899. I was assigned to the best violin teacher there: Emile Sauret , a pupil of Vieuxtemps and truly a great artist. He admitted that I was gifted, but that my violin technique lacked a solid foundation. So there was much for me to make up, and I did so with great diligence and joy.

Besides violin, I continued to study organ, harmony, and counterpoint, which caused me little difficulty. From Sauret I learned a flexible bow arm, but my left hand still troubled me. I was often selected to perform in the school’s public concerts, which pleased me greatly. Even small compositions that I wrote on the side were included in modest programs.

Playing the organ gave me particular delight. I even had the good fortune to gain access to a fine organ in a large church near my home for practice. I was expected to practice diligently for my violin lessons, but once I sat down at the organ, I forgot the whole world—and also my exercises. It gave me my own music. When the time for my organ examination arrived, my teacher was pessimistic and foresaw nothing good, especially since the required piece was Bach’s Toccata in D minor , and the jurors were very strict. Of six students, only two passed—and fortunately, I was one of them. If I remember correctly, it was my enthusiasm for the magnificent piece that carried me over all obstacles.

After four years of study, I had earned a bronze and a silver medal for violin performance, as well as a large certificate, which effectively completed my studies. I was particularly proud of another bronze medal for sight‑singing and absolute pitch , because it was not easy to obtain.

Then Emile Sauret received a brilliant offer to teach in the U.S.A., which he accepted. He wished to take his best student, Marjorie Hayward , who at 13 was already a finished artist, and—surprisingly—me as well. But we felt that he no longer had much to give us, and we decided instead to go to Prof. Ševčík in Prague : she to acquire technique she did not need, and I to gain more left‑hand technique, which I certainly did need. Thus the truly beautiful years in London came to an end. I renewed the struggle with our guardian, and after overcoming his resistance, the verdict was: off to Prague!

On the way, I stopped in Düsseldorf , where I visited old acquaintances. The conductor of the local symphony orchestra, Reibold , asked me to perform in one of their symphony concerts. I played Bruch’s G‑minor Concerto , received much applause—and not only that: in one of the following concerts, a composition of mine was performed: an Overture to “The Unbound Prometheus.” Shelley’s poem had made such a strong impression on me that I had thrown myself into composing it with youthful courage—or rather, boldness. I am sure it was not a mature work; nothing of it remains today, not even the score, only the program. Then the journey continued to Prague .