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Updated: June 7, 2025
Also Rubinstein's dramatic works, now mostly dismissed by foreigners as his weakest productions, may in due course be accepted as his finest creations.
And all Rubinstein's upbraidings, all the eloquent logic of Laroche, could move him to nothing but the reiterated statement that, years before, at his court-martial, he had been conscious of no fault for which to lower his head; whereas this time alas! he had been guilty of many more than one: of laziness; of preposterous vanity; finally, worst of all, of that unpardonable cowardice and self-consciousness whereby he had lost his final hope of scraping through the ordeal by means of his native wit and the experience and influence of the concertmeister Gruening.
"But I'm in hopes I've done a bit, I think, towards it with Mr. Rubinstein's help, though he doesn't quite understand my methods. But you, gentlemen I came in to hear if you'd anything to tell about Guyler. What did he think about what John Purvis had to tell us this afternoon?" "He wasn't surprised," answered Purdie.
Liebling was Rubinstein's pupil. I haven't met another woman on this trip to whom it is so well worth the while to talk." "All due respect to you, a matter of taste," said Doctor Wilhelm. "Let him alone. My saviour is displeased," said Ingigerd. It was evident that occasionally she stood in awe of Frederick.
This time he ceased absolutely to follow Rubinstein's harmony, and, retaining simply the melody, changed, however, to a minor key, he produced an odd, rhythmical little series of syncopations so rich, so strange, and withal so unlawful that when, omitting the conventional cadenza, he plunged into a coda of his own, Rubinstein flew furiously to the piano and would have struck the youth's hands from the keys but for a gesture from her Highness so imperious and so unmistakable that the great pianist's angry protests died upon his lips, and he joined, perforce, in the tumult of applause that ended the unparalleled performance.
At a little past midnight he left his former home, somewhat comforted in heart and mind. However, he went to no more rehearsals; and speedily gave his associates to understand that he wished the subject avoided; though he failed to notice that his wishes were also Rubinstein's. Nicholas, however, was harassed to a point of fury with all the world.
The "Italian Symphony," something of Glinka's, one of Anton Rubinstein's short orchestral commonplaces, were played with the usual brilliant finish. With the intermission came palpitation, a dry mouth, and a vague impression of Laroche's biting truths anent Anton's stupidity as a composer, and his strange influence over hard-headed Nicholas.
He now sat more erect, his face, eyebrows raised, turned to Blizzard, his ears recalling to him certain moments of Rubinstein's playing. But Blizzard no longer hated his piano. It had stood up nobly to his assault. It was a brave instrument, well-bred, a friend full of rare qualities for a friend to show off.
In fact, Ysaye's standpoint toward music had a good deal in common with Rubinstein's and he often said he wished he could play the violin as Rubinstein did the piano. Ysaye is an artist who has transcended his own medium he has become a poet of sound. And unless the one studying with him could understand and appreciate this fact he made a poor teacher.
It appears to affect the corners of the eye; the electric film is perhaps divided by the approach over the skin to another and damper tissue. But hyperaesthesia sometimes spreads to the upper cheek. Madame de Maceine saw Rubinstein's hallucinatory picture with the corner of her eye. A shock even as slight as a bit of thistledown blown against the cornea might be ill timed at a street-crossing. Mr.
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