Interview

1. Where were you born and what events in your early life made you interested in playing the violin?

Where was I born? Oh, dear, must I go back as far as that? It was ages ago! In Newcastle, on April 8th, 1884, and I was called the ‘Opera Baby'.

Why? Because my father, Mr. Edmund Felix Hall, was a harpist in the Carl Rosa English Opera Company, which toured all over England. My mother always accompanied him, and while at Newcastle I was born; the company took a great interest in this important event, and called me the ‘Opera Baby.’ I may go a little farther back and tell you that my grandfather was a landscape painter and a harpist; my father, his brother, my mother, and sister are all harpists, and I ought to have been one too, I suppose. I did start; but hated it, and used to hide when my father wanted to give me a lesson. I wanted to learn the fiddle. My father had his own ideas on the subject; I had mine, and I stuck to them (Griffith, 1903).

Even when eight years old, I was determined to be a great violinist. I heard a lady play a concerto of Paganini, and I was bound I would play it too. With only a little help from my mother, I learned it in a few hours, and then played it for my father. He was astonished, and gave up to me. I had my beloved violin lessons (Holmes, 1906).

2. What role did mentors play in helping you develop the interests and talents you have as a
violinist?

I studied under several well known teachers, including Edward Elgar, who later became an
internationally-acknowledged composer, August Wilhelmj, Max Mossel, Johann Kruse and Otakar Sevcik.  I was the great Sevcik’s only English girl pupil. He said I was the most gifted pupil he ever had.

It was while I was with Kruse that I first heard about the Czech violinist, Jan Kubelik. I saw an
announcement that he would give a recital in London on the 19th of June, 1900. I went. It was a red-letter day in my life. I went mad over his technique.  As soon as the concert was over I went behind and waited outside his door, determined to see him if I had to wait until two o’clock in the morning. After what seemed to me a long time he came out, followed by his accompanist. I rushed forward and said, "Oh, will you hear me play?"

I elected to play one of the very pieces I heard Kubelik play the previous evening, the “D Minor
Concerto” of Wieniawski, which was the success of the evening. Kubelik was enthusiastic. “You must go at once,” he said, “to Prague to my old master, Sevcik" (Griffith, 1903).

3. What was the world of music like for women violinists when you entered it?

I benefited from the eminent women musicians that preceded me and whose brilliance made
obsolete the long prejudice against women violinists. The first was Wilma Norman-Neruda, followed by other well known English performers including Teresina Tua, Emily Shinner, Camille Urso, Gabriele Wietrowetz, Marie Soldat, and the American, Maud Powell.

These women also gave legitimacy to a woman’s ability in instrumental performance and, as
a result, the public was ready to recognize our gifts. I was lucky enough to attract the generous and long-term support of a group of music patrons and professional musicians. Without their assistance, my family’s lack of money would have prevented me from reaching the heights of my profession that I have.

4. How did the major cultural, economic and political situations of the time impact your work?

The well-known English composer, Ralph Vaughn Williams, wrote and dedicated The Lark
Ascending to me in 1914. It is a work for violin and orchestra that was inspired by a George Meredith poem about the skylark. This was the greatest tribute paid to me, but his composition was halted by the outbreak of the First World War. He was actually writing sketches for it while watching troop ships cross the English Channel. He was observed by a small boy who thought he was jotting down a secret code and informed a police officer who subsequently arrested the composer.

The work was not completed until 1920 when Mr. Williams and I worked together on revisions
during our stay at Kingsweston House near Bristol. I gave the premier performance in December 1920 in conjunction with the Avonmouth and Shirehampton Choral Society. My first public performance followed on June 14, 1921 at the Queen’s Hall in London with the British Symphony Orchestra under conductor Adrian Boult.

5. What were the methods you used as a violinist and what were your major accomplishments?

Despite the obvious contrast between my appearance and that of Paganini, there is nevertheless a link in the method of our playing. There was something weird, supernatural about Paganini, whom it has been said that I approach in technique.

I am so small, thin, no muscular development at all. My arms are mere skin and bone, but I seem to have a secret source of vast power, both mental and physical, that allows me to perform terrific feats of execution. But, it is a triumph of mind over matter, not force.

6. What were the key opportunities you had that led to turning points in your life and music?

When I was fifteen years old, I met Jane Roeckel, a pianist and music educator who dedicated much of her life to helping musicians in need. Upon hearing of my talent and my extreme poverty, she persuaded my father to permit me to be educated and cared for in London for three years. She arranged financial help and a plan devised by Jane Roeckel and her husband, I was able to study with the great Sevcik in Prague for almost a year and a half.

The legend that has been made of my personal history as “Cinderella” came from these people, my “fairy godmother and godfather,” who helped me escape from poverty and a life contrary to the development of my musical gifts.

7. What personal choices did you make to become successful?

Very soon after my interview with Kubelik, I had to choose between staying with my family or leaving so that I could develop my musical abilities to my full potential. I chose to study with Sevcik, but was lucky enough to get financial assistance for my family in my absence.

I was made a ward of the Chancery. You do not know how I want to help my family. I have offered my parents a regular income if they will only let me have my little brother, Teddy. We are so fond of each other, and I want him to get strong and well (Griffith, 1903).

8. What hardships or roadblocks did you have to overcome in order to be a violinist?

My memory of my family’s home as a child was of the scampering and squeaking of rats that could be heard through the walls. But, our home was always filled with music playing by my father and several relatives and friends. Our family was so poor that my father had to come down to playing in the streets.  We all had to play in the streets and in the vestibules of hotels. My mother, my sister and I took turns assisting him to earn a livelihood. Sometimes just my mother went out with father and she did the collecting, while my sister and I stayed at home. My sister and I had to do all the housework, as we could not afford to keep a servant. Times were very bad. I hated collecting money, but I played in the streets until I was thirteen.

9. What kind of limitations did you run into as both a violinist and a person?

When I was fifteen years old, I competed for the first Wessely Exhibition at the Royal Academy of Music and won it, but was unable to take it up. I had to decline it because my father was too poor to pay my living expenses in London and said I was needed at home to help with three younger siblings.

I realized after I had studied under Johann Kruse for a year, that I had learned from him all that all he could give me. It was when I saw Kubelik play in London that I saw immediately that he had something that I had never been taught, and I felt sure it was from his teacher. I heard all his concerts, and I resolved that I, too, would learn that wonderful technique (Holmes, 1906).

10. What personal stories (anecdotes) best illustrate how you became successful as a violinist?

When I was studying, I often worked fourteen hours a day, getting up at four in the morning. I remember before I left home to study at the Conservatoire in Prague with Sevcik, my little brothers used to become very angry with me when they could not persuade me to play with them. They would complain, “Marie is always, for ever and ever, plactising, plactising” (Griffith, 1903).

I was always determined to be at the top, and I’ve always had plenty of energy and perseverance (Holmes, 1906). “You are a second Kubelik," people say, I hear. I am not a second anybody or anything. I want to be myself, with a method and style of my own (Griffith, 1903).