Rubinstein and Grain

1895

How the Two Great Musicians Were Brought Together In London.

"My impression of Joachim as having the worst hat in London had its pendant," writes a correspondent, "in my recollection of Rubinstein as having the thickest boots. No musician was ever less of an exquisite. He had no affectations. He wore black broadcloth with a nap on it of the kind that parsons used 60 years ago and a soft felt hat, and, notwithstanding this prosaic setting, looked like a Japanese Beethoven — like a Beethoven that had fallen off the side of a teacup.

"He had not, I fancy, much humor, but he had great good nature, and once I saw it tested. It was during his second visit here, when all London was mad over him, and there was something like a Paderewski fever prevalent, and they were fortunate who could hear him play in private. At this party all musical London was assembled, and he was one of the first guests asked to play. Every one knows how excited he used to get over the piano and how fond he was when his work was over of the solace of a cigar. So this night he withdrew from the instrument with his host, and the grateful fragrance of a weed asserted itself from the little anteroom, whose door was discreetly closed.

In due time the hostess had to call on another guest, and there was some interest to see who could succeed Rubinstein.

"She asked Mr. Corney Grain. She was almost a bride, new to the ways of London life, but it was often afterward pointed out as evidence of her savoir faire that she should have called on the one musician in the room whose absolute opposition of style made rivalry impossible. I remember Corney Grain sang something about

"Meet me when the lark's asleep,
Ere Flora fills her dewy cup,
When festive beetles homeward creep
Before the early morn is up.

"He was sitting with his back to the door, a back even then of commanding proportions, and gradually the fragrance of that cigar became more and more in evidence. The door opened first a little, then a little more, then completely, and at last Rubinstein glided out, with Felix Moscheles by his side, and stood near the piano delighted with what he listened to. The artists were introduced. I remember the evening as well as if it were last night. It was the more memorable because that night he did not break a string." — Pall Mall Budget.