In Bülow’s Classroom

Hans von Bülow had a reputation for being even harder on pupils than Liszt. In Liszt’s classes, people sometimes cried—but his charm could soften the sting of criticism. With Bülow, the fear was purer.

He taught in large groups. Students would sit and wait while Bülow called someone up without warning. The chosen player would walk to the piano in dread, aware that every mistake might be met with a cutting remark—while everyone else, “sitting on needles,” was relieved it wasn’t their turn.

One day an English girl was called. Nervous and awkward, she played with a stream of errors. Bülow listened, then exploded—not in rage, but in that dry, deadly teacherly way. His verdict became famous:

“Ach, Gott! You play the easy passages with a difficulty that is simply enormous!”