=Source.=--_The Times_, May 19, 1857.
Of Herr Rubinstein, his compositions, and his performances, we would
rather not speak, but just now that there is so much charlatanism
abroad, to the detriment of genuine art, silence is not permitted. We
never listened before to such music--if music it may be called--at
the Philharmonic Concerts, and fervently trust we may never again. So
strange and chaotic a jumble as the Concerto in G defies analysis.
Not a single subject fit to be designated “phrase” or “melody” can
be traced throughout the whole dreary length of the composition;
while, to atone for the absence of every musical attribute, we look
in vain even for what abounds in the pianoforte writings of Liszt
and others of the same school--viz., the materials for displaying
mechanical facility to advantage.... As a player, Herr Rubinstein
(who, when a mere boy, paid London a visit in 1843–4) may lay claim to
the possession of extraordinary manual dexterity. His execution (more
particularly when he has passages in octaves to perform) is prodigious,
and the difficulties he surmounts with apparent ease are manifold and
astonishing. But his mechanism is by no means invariably pure; nor is
his manner of attacking the notes at all favourable to the production
of legitimate tone. A pianist should treat his instrument rather as
a friend than as an enemy, caress rather than bully it; but Herr
Rubinstein seats himself at the piano with a seeming determination to
_punish_ it, and his endeavours to extort the power of an orchestra
from that which is, after all, but an unpretending row of keys,
hammers, and strings, result in an exaggeration of style entirely
antagonistic to real musical expression.