Dies fatalis! [the fateful day] Just because I was caring for my form I soon was the possessor of a hearty headache which tram-drives and a walk in the park did not dispel. Was not very nervous but expected the panic to come in reality when the time came. Was kindly driven by Fr. Pat, who came to-day and who actually offered up Mass for me, to Rochelle, and in I went to the torture-house. There was only one violinist entered for exam. as well as myself, and he had a fine noisy tittering audience outside while he was playing. They were gone, thank goodness, when I was called in. A Mr. Weaving of Dublin was examiner, a really courteous affable gentleman, who made everything very easy. Starting off with the Studies I laughed at myself at how cool I was. Evidently my nervousness was so exhausted by its constant use the week before that there was none of it left when the time came. Played Beethoven Sonata, Field Nocturne, Chopin Mazurka and Schumann Novelette, or bits of them, tolerably well, as I thought, despite the disadvantages of piano etc. Having read a piece at sight and played a few scales fairly well, I got a few lines to sing at sight. Then I took down an air he played on the piano, which he evidently thought stiff, quite correctly, guessed cadences occurring in passages which he played (in which I cheated by watching his hands from behind) and wrote down rhythm of bits of poetry which he read aloud. Then came a disappointment, for having studied ‘Irish Airs’ until my head ached, transposing them to keys of 7 flats and sharps, and carefully learning the structures, he told me to write down any air I liked in the key I studied, and having written about two bars he said that that was sufficient. Forthwith, having opened the door for His Majesty, shown him the way out, and having done some egregious ‘scraping’, he was gone and it was all over! To think that it was for this I had been working for months, had been panic-stricken for weeks, and had made as much fuss both at home, in the ears of my friends and in my diary, it seemed incredible. Went home elevated that indeed I had come through passing well, and retold the great occurrences to family, Fr. Pat and Dr. Frend, who were for tea. Now I can eat my meals in peace and sleep without the affliction of the terrible dreams that shake me nightly. For truly it was a great battle against my lack of self-confidence and my imagination and I have come out quite victorious, whether by chance or not is another question.
Pupils’ recital was at 8, and down we drove. The playing was simply glorious, especially Mary Hilser, who played a late and romantic sonata of Beethoven’s and some Liszt, and Elsie Hilser who played a Ballade of Chopin’s. It is extraordinary that such wonderful work should be received with indifference, comparatively speaking, and taken quite for granted. Drove Fr. Pat to Dunmanway, where I stayed till 5 as Fr. Pat was busy all day with a host of priests come for funeral of curate, Fr. O’Mahony, and to my shame I forgot my fare home, and hated asking for it. Had a strange experience on return, for an ex-Anglican minister, who now voyages around evidently a travelling comedian, and who is blind and deaf, and who, I am afraid, drinks and is a bit mad in addition, was unfortunately in my carriage, and by terrorising me with his awful appearance he made me learn by heart a speech I was to prepare for Dr. Scannell on the morrow, its purpose being that he should be invited again to Farran Ferris for a show. He then presented me with a prayer-book and fountain-pen, which, however he took back again saying he would post them to me. (They never did arrive). He then actually brought me home on a side-car, though I was of a mind to duck when he brought the jarvey into a public-house for a drink on the way. One could pity the poor fellow for his kind-heartedness and disreputableness.
