What Was It Like to Study Under Anton Rubinstein
Although not always the case, genius is often a bad teacher, at least when it comes to instructing the common student. Such is the case with the pianist-composer Anton Rubinstein, whose odd teaching style, nonetheless, managed to inspire the legendary pianist Joseph Hofmann.
By Joseph John L. Verallo · June 14, 2026

In his book Piano Playing, Joseph Hofmann offers musical advice, ranging from the specific and technical to his personal convictions. Towards the end, he gives his account of his studies with Anton Rubinstein, of whom he was his only private student.
At the time, Rubinstein was living in a hotel in Berlin. He would have lessons with Hofmann on a Bechstein, which Hofmann noted was “shockingly out of tune” to the indifference of Rubinstein. As a performer, Rubinstein often took liberties with the music he performed. As a teacher, however, he was a “stickler for the letter,” telling Hofmann to follow everything on the sheet exactly as written. When confronted about this double standard, Rubinstein replied:
“When you are as old as I am now you may do as I do—if you can.”
This humor was another characteristic of his teaching. Hofmann recalled an instance where he had brought Liszt’s transcription of Schubert’s “Erl-king.” During the lesson, he admittedly played “several false notes besides very poor arpeggios.” Rubinstein remarked:
“Erl-King is a spirit, a ghost—so play this place in a spiritlike way, ghostly, if you will, but not ghastly with false notes!”
Rubinstein, it seemed, had no time for beginners and taught only advanced pianists. He also had no time for elementary matters like fingering and expected the student to figure it out all on his own. Once, when asked about the fingering for a difficult passage, he replied:
“Play it with your nose, but make it sound well.”
Hofmann also noted two rules his teacher had when conducting lessons: first, that he never bring the same piece more than once; and second, that he never bring Rubinstein’s own compositions. The first, Rubinstein explained, was because “he might forget in the next lesson what he told me in the previous one, and by drawing an entirely new picture only confuse my mind.” The second, however, he never got to explain to his student.
Rubinstein enforced this second rule even when the time came for Hofmann to perform the composer’s own concerto. Despite being the conductor, Rubinstein still declined Hofmann’s suggestion to run it by him, telling his student:
“It is not necessary; we understand each other!”
They did have one rehearsal, in which the composer embraced Hofmann afterwards in front of the whole orchestra. Hofmann did not describe how the actual performance went, but there is little reason to doubt its success.
After the event, he returned to his master’s hotel to ask for his autograph, to which Rubinstein reluctantly agreed to give. Hofmann then asked his teacher for another lesson. The latter replied that he would no longer offer them. Confused, Hofmann asked, “Why not?” Rubinstein answered:
“My dear boy, I have told you all I know about legitimate piano-playing and music-making.”
The words were bittersweet, but the two artists understood each other. Sadly, Hofmann would never see his master after that, as Rubinstein would pass away soon after in Saint Petersburg.