MOUNTING ON WINGS OF TONE.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 4033, 12 January 1932, Page 6

MOUNTING ON WINGS OF TONE.

In a moment or two Rubinstein, unannounced, came in, entering by a stage door at the left. He paused almost timidly. The men arose. Many shook hands with him, the conductor greeting him effusively. The reception lasted for several moments 1 saw that Rubenstein was tall and of a gigantic frame. There was something in his manner midway be tween an ecclesiastic and a schoolmaster. He smiled much, fairly closing his eyes as he did so. 11 is voice was singularly muffled, and ins gait somewhat shambling. He sat down before the Bcchstein grand which was ready for him near the footlights but the lights were not in evid,: . \ Km •> moment he rubbed ins ,ei ii.i uiber, pan iv iu Imii hi i.l.cm up. uartly as uncon s -iuiis f< r•,i judged he always did . :i. [I, Lent ovei the keyboard slightly, as though collecting all the traditions of Heelhovcn lie knew. Then without any other preliminary than the lap ol the bat. u, the uci'eiiru plunged prec ipilously into tli bittii Come.to (known as the

••Emperor" ) in K dal. The first thing to be done was _to play the chord and then pause. After the' pause, tiie pianist, unaccompanied, mounted on wings of tone towards the zenith. How he rose! The tones ascended like splintered sunbeams. The piano part of this concerto begins with a succession of daring and dazzling passages, all conceived with that austere grace which never flatters the senses, nor disturbs in the least Beethoven’s architectural firmness and seriousness of purpose.

Rubinstein till played with an intensity that swept ail previous retoids of piano playing from one's memory. His fingers appetred to us considerably longer than he needed them, and his dark locks fell over his massive brow, partly hiding his rugged features. His coat, a very long one, reached the floor at the sides of his chair. He did marvellous pedal work. His tone carried a pellucid quality undiearned of. We had heard no one produce that lone. It haunted oui ears ever after. Ho played the whole Concerto through to the end without interruption, there being no occasion for corrections. Modestly he arose. Then as if other engagements were pressing him, he went quietly out of the hall,, shaking hands cordially with several as he passed along.—Milo E. Benedict, in “Musical People in Retrospect.”