Michael's Blog
11 August 2025
Maybe you remember this piano? 
Made by George Garcka in Rathbone Place circa 1789, but decorated in the style of Angelica Kaufmann retrospectively, circa 1905 – by Lizzie Dean, as I deduce, and sold by her husband George Frederick Dean to someone who loved beautiful things. If you have been following Michael's Blog for a few years, you will also remember similar pianos by Schoene & Co., and Longman & Broderip, likewise lavishly decorated by the same hand. There's one word to describe them – beautiful. They don't necessarily play, but the idea is there.
Long ago [1986] I recall another piano, by John Broadwood, with similar decorative treatment. It belonged to Charles MacKinnon, a young man with good taste who lived near Highclere Castle, whose frontage is well known to fans of a popular TV series, Downton Abbey. When this piano appeared in an auction I just had to go and look at it. 
You may imagine how gratified I was to see the hammers and dampers in excellent condition, and the strings as good as the day it left my workshop. But, it was also sad to see the tuning hammer and wedge still in the polythene packet where I put them, 39 years ago.
What drew me to view the auction was, as you may guess, a hope that this charming painting was attributable to the hand at work on the Garcka piano above. But I was disappointed. If this is Lizzie Dean's work, it must be an early example, lacking in the delicious classical refinement of her later pieces. Some of the same motifs are there: the vase, the flowers and the ribbon, and the colours match well. But it is less densely covered, and lacking in that assured classical style that Dean's piano decoration has in abundance. And of course, it lacks the vignettes and cameos that add so much to the effect. Satinwood borders, and pretty inlay seem to be a unifying feature, of the pianos that are selected for her work, and the date is usually about 1790. I had to tell the then owner that the date '1793', included in the painted decoration, was wrong. The piano dates from about 1805, so it was odd to see that this spurious date has somehow disappeared!
In the event, the piano sold well -- two bidders were prepared to take it to nearly £2000 (as a take home). I hope that it will be treasured.
29 July 2025
Pfeiffer seems to be the critical character. Carl A Pfeiffer to be exact. The family name suggests that, many generations ago, they blew trumpets and shawms. But since 1862 the family is well known for piano manufacture, with a factory near Stuttgart.
If you trace the origins of many ideas in German-language publications regarding piano history they very often lead to Pfeiffer. So, if you encounter a small harp-shaped Pantalon, you will almost certainly be told these instruments were devised and made by J. M. Schmahl of Ulm. However, no-one was able to find an example with his inscription. 
Sabine Klaus made a very thorough search but found no confirmation. 'Ascribed to Johann Michael Schmahl of Ulm' we so often see, usually with an optimistically early date. The origin of these ascriptions rests solely on a report of Carl A. Pfeiffer stating that he had seen Schmahl's signature inside a harp-shaped 'piano' dated 1771. The instrument in question has been examined by Dr. Klaus, but no inscription was found within it. This is beginning to look like a house of cards - insecure to say the least.
Maybe you saw the excellent German Tafelklavier sold this week at Mallams in Abingdon? [I show it below, 27 July.] It achieved a good price on the sale day, deservedly so. Its elaborate decorative finish suggests it was made for an important client (maybe a Countess?), and I was glad to see that no-one had 'restored' it in recent times. There are several other surviving examples from the same workshop [as I believe], but they are all unsigned. Characteristic features include the very open S-shaped curve of the bridge with neat scroll ends; the retro-Stosszungen Mechanik with Reiter dämpfung, and an unusual Moderator in the form of a triangular frame, operated by sliding a little stop inside at the right. I have seen two others in the store-rooms of German museums. And Tom Winter's update of Clinkscale-Online lists five more. All are listed as the work of P.J.Warth of Untertürkheim.
Since none of them has an original inscription, any attribution to Warth rests entirely on a piano in Deutchesmuseum, Munich. Here's what Clinkscale has to say:
So, what remains is a 20th-century label, added by Carl Pfeiffer. He gave a surprisingly early date. I would have suggested circa 1790. If you investigate the provenance of the pianos ascribed to Warth in other German and Austrian museums, you find that Pfeiffer appears very often either as the donor, or as previous owner. None of them has any visible inscription. There is another piano [MIR 1142] in the basement store of the GNM in Nuremberg, with all the expected features, but slightly shorter compass [GG-f3]. It's not signed, and was not attributed to P.J.Warth when I examined it in 1995.
Doubts must remain over all instruments attributed to Warth. As there are no photographs of an original inscription, our only evidence for such attributions comes from Pfeiffer. Likewise, all of those Harp-shaped Tafelklaviere [Pantalons] ascribed to Schmahl 'circa 1770' depend on Pfeiffer's unverified testimony! Perhaps someone will one day research him and his work thoroughly?
Incidentally, as you see above, Pfeiffer's hand-writen label says 'Schullehrer', [school teacher] Hmm!
You might just as well describe J.S.Bach as a choir master!
27 July 2025
What's the point of a piano with NO PEDAL? The maker of this instrument put so much time and creative effort into its lavish decoration – sumptious materials, elaborate inlays – but we can well imagine the average modern pianist's disappointment. No pedal!
Press the right pedal on any modern black-lacquered piano to enter a wonderfully evocative echo-chamber – like the amusing effect of children's voices when five-year-olds run through a stone tunnel, shouting and laughing. Or the astonishing reverberations you hear if you clap your hands inside a empty cathedral.
To come anywhere near these effects on this piano you must take a hand from the keys and pull the [now broken] stop beneath the middle of the keyboard. The effect is miniscule compared with an iron framed instrument of modern times, and inconveniently it remains 'ON' until you push the stop knob back in. The two stops that remain projecting at the front are not for a divided damper lift, as I see reported, but for a divided Harfenzug [This translates as Harp Stop, but is not really the same thing]. Restle terms it 'Bürstendämpfung'. The fourth stop, easily missed at the right, operates the Moderator, for a more dulcet tone.
So, 'what's the point of a piano with no pedal?' Well, the creative possibilities are far beyond anything provided by a modern piano. For example, pull the left hand stop only and you might play a singing melody in the right hand accompanied in the left by a kind of pizzicato — have you noticed how many favourite baroque pieces consist of exactly that? A lyrical melody, accompanied by pizzicato strings? You can't do this on a Steinway.
Or you might employ the inconspicuous sliding stop above the treble keys to move the moderator frame forwards, thereby giving the piano a more dulcet tone - maybe for a minor section, emphasising the Affect. The culture of Veränderungen or varied tone colours, suddenly introduced to suit your music, was very much embedded in German music making in the eighteenth century.
A popular myth among musicians is that a square piano or 'Tafelklavier' was the poor man's instrument – rather like the upright piano as an alternative to the Steinway grand (for those with limited means). The instrument showing here makes this nonsense untenable. The fact is that elaborately designed and expensively decorated square pianos were not second-class instruments. Many players prefered them - usually chosing them for their pleasant tone - but maybe choosing the whole package – tone, decorative appeal, multiple stops and pleasingly regular shape. Do you recall the Pohman piano in a Chinese lacquer cabinet recently sold in the Chippedale sale at Christies? Obviously not a cheap instrument. Or the Adam Beyer square pianos supplemented with organ stops? Princess Kinsky had one in her splendid home in Paris. Cheap alternative? No, it surely was not.
21 July 2025
When you have completed a manuscript, a big one, more than a hundred thousand words, one of the most tiresome and unwelcome tasks is to compile an index. In former times you probably had a card file of the subjects covered, which made life easier. But few people write that way these days. Instead, your text is likely a Word file, and to compile an index, the first resort is a computer programme. It looks easy. A labour-saving route to an index! But Oh, what a poor result you get!
Brian Robins' industry in preparing The John Marsh Journals for publication is admirable and astonishing: over twelve hundred pages, many with copious footnotes, some of them so obscure that you wonder how he ever found the information, and how long it took. But his INDEX came in for a lot of criticism.
Rosamond Harding in her magnum opus, The Pianoforte - its history, has two lists - her Index Nominum is the place to find the names of instrument makers and musicians; her Index Rerum locates the page or pages where she addressed various subjects (such as pedals, and their functions). Such a list, of course, cannot be created by a computer programme. It just searches for words. Most such programmes are simply looking for names, detected perhaps by capital letters not preceded by a full stop, as I deduce from the threadbare results.
Just today, looking through my biography of Mary Marsh*, fact checking was often needed against the John Marsh Journals. Two massive volumes; the principal source from which I reconstructed Mary's biography: here I might want to find the dates of her concert appearances in Salisbury, for example. But it is disheartening to see that she is not mentioned once in the Index! Extraordinary! The reason, I assume, is that John Marsh's musical sister is never once referred to as 'Mary Marsh', she's simply 'my sister'. Thus the Indexing programme can't see her.
What a fate! How invisible can you be!
* In its original form, 'Mary Marsh, the epitome of a !8th century female musician' was delivered as a paper viva voce at the Foundling Museum, November 2018.
14 July 2025
You may have seen this picture before! The story of the Mozart family tour of 1764-6, taking them to Paris and London, is a favourite topic, inevitably enhanced by this illustration – surprisingly there is no other image from those years, though they were treated as sensational everywhere they went. Melchior Grimm, arranged for the painting, from Mr. de Carmontelle, and for the engraving, so that multiple prints could be made.
Do you see what they have done?
In all advertisements for concerts, the featured performance would be given by 'Miss Mozart, aged 12, and Master Mozart aged '7' [actually 8].' Concerning Miss Mozart, Marianna, her abilities were phenomenal. Her father writes to his friends in Salzburg that in Paris she played all the latest music by Eckardt and Schobert, so excellently that she provoked Schobert to jealousy. (Eckardt's music is often very awkward, as anyone who tries them will know.) Later, in a letter from London, (June 1764) Leopold writes: 'my little girl, although she is only twelve years old, is one of the most skilful players in Europe.' You would never guess, would you? She is displaced from the keyboard by the novelty of her little brother - 'upstaged' by him in their concerts, and relegated to a place in the shadows in this picture. Even when we allow for a little over-indulgence from her father, there can be no doubt she was outstandingly good. But she is made to look like an inferior, redundant character, holding a piece of music in the background.
24 June 2025
A Broadwood square piano dated 1792 has much to commend it. It's so pleasing to see so many original strings, and the serial number '1755' so fresh looking and untouched. To be sold today [24 June] at Chorley's Auction Rooms near Cranham, I can imagine many would-be collectors taking some interest in it. Some even rate this type as their 'favourite' among square pianos, but they come with some disadvantages.
The soundboard nearly always has visible cracks - in this piano there are three; two of them extend across the whole board. And very often there is a complementary depression, so that the board is hollowed like a spoon. These defects are not attributable to the timber shrinking, as some have suggested, but is principally caused by movement of the hitchpin block, where it has parted from the case side. A tell-tale sign that you should always look for is an opening at the right side of the block (a crevasse as it might be termed in mountaineering circles) as shown in the picture here: it is characteristic fault in these early Broadwood pianos.
A gap of one millimetre might be ignored, or filled, but as one may see here, the void is more than that. It is surely unwise to make and fit new strings without attending to this, because as soon as tension is applied to to the strings, the movement will increase; the gap will widen; and the soundboard will again be under stress.
The remedy seems quite drastic, in prospect, because the strings must come off. The soundboard must be steamed out (with the opportunity to mend the cracks thoroughly, and check the ribs underneath). While the space is clear, the hitchpin block must be replaced with a new one, drilled carefully to replicate the side and down draught on the bridge. Replacing the red cloth is of course no great problem. In this piano the hitchpins themselves look good, so the temptation is to trust them for further service. That is unwise. The Broadwood hitchpins you see here are 1.6mm diameter, bent severely to the right after fitting. This stresses the metal on the elbow so eventually they develope fractures and often snap off, leaving part of the pin embedded in the block. Too often the result is that tuners, or would-be restorers, hammer in cut-off nails to replace the broken pins. The appearance is bad, and the damage to the block [unseen beneath the cloth] is much to be regretted. Better to make a new set. I prefer mild steel as being less likely to suffer the stress fractures of the originals. If they are blued or plated they should not rust. Making them 1.8mm diameter is an additional security worth considering.
Good points of piano, No.1755, are that the interior damper-lifting mechanism remains in place, though the pedal connected to it is nonsense. There also appears to be a second pedal for a lid-swell, incomplete and probably never finished. The bridge on the soundboard is in remarkably good condition – not broken, not distorted, not even discoloured. Broadwood's brass under-dampers are graduated in size and weight, so it is always good to see a complete set.
The black nail that can be seen among the hitchpins above, was intended to support an inner spruce cover board - one of the few items now missing. It would be good to think that this piano might receive a thorough and thoughtful restoration. [NOTE: resulting hammer price £350 (add 30% in fees). 25 June]
9 June 2025
If, like me, you read the interview with Frank Hubbard that appeared in the Harpsichord Magazine, way back in 1975, it probably left you disappointed – as it did me. I was curious to know about the man behind his excellent book, 'Three Hundred Years of Harpsichord Making'. But what I read fell far short of answering any of my questions, or satisfying my curiosity.
So it was with great pleasure that I discovered a far more satisfying account of him, in his own words, to be found through the Hubbard Harpsichords website. It is the transcript of a talk he gave at Indianna University in 1973. He takes us through his disillusioned days reading English Literature at Harvard, and his friendship there with William Dowd. Sitting at his designated place in the Widener Library, he reports, supposedly studying texts assigned for his course, his eyes often strayed on the bookshelf beside him, where he found books full of fascinating pictures of old musical instruments. But, I need say no more -- you can read for yourself --- I hope you will. Go to www.hubharp.com -- disregard all the commercial stuff about harpsichords -- and seek out the biography page. The upshot was that Hubbard's first attempt at a musical instrument was (like mine) a violin inspired by the unique book by Heron-Allen, Violin Making as it was and is.
What I found particularly fascinating was Hubbard's description of life at the Dolmetsch workshops in Haslemere, as he experienced it in a very abbreviated 'apprenticeship' there, circa 1950. Leslie Ward was the general manager; 'tall, lean, bald, shrewd and grasping.' He spoke in an accent that left Hubbard baffled. I guess it was deep Sussex, as my wife's uncle, Vic Hall, spoke it. He lived all his life in a village just a few miles from Haslemere. Hubbard is much more generous in his description of 'Brown', who has since morphed into the gent of Scottish ancestry, Andrew Campbell Douglas - 'the neatest workman I have ever known'.
Of all his brief pen portraits, the one I would most like to hear more is Leslie Ward. I have seen his stamp so often inside historic keyboard instruments. L. WARD. Sometimes I have admired his work. But inevitably, I have also been disappointed – never more so than in his interventions in a Pohlman square piano at Osterley Park. This wonderful National Trust property is full of excellent reminders of Robert Adam's vision, and has some first class exhibits. But, upstairs, in a room not open to the public, they keep other pieces, not so important – a kind of graveyard for items of doubtful virtue. When you see Pohlman's piano (1773) you are immediately disconcerted. Did Pohlman really make those ebony naturals? No, he didn't. Did Pohlman really fit red cushion felt in the dampers? Of course, not. These changes all date from the Haslemere restoration circa 1950.
This is perhaps the most disapppointing example of Pohlman's work that I encountered on my travels.
On the other hand, when I examined the only known spinet by Wilbrook at Parham Park, I found fewer interventions of this kind. The jacks are evidently replacements, whether antique or modern I'm not sure, but the strings are sensible, and the quill plectra have not been replaced with sole leather, as was so often done in former times. And it still plays - tolerably well, I might say, and not grossly out of tune.
After a year, frustrated by the Dolmetsch attitude to historical authenticity, Hubbard teamed up with Hugh Gough, in London, providing us with another memorable pen portrait. He later went to Paris.
Frank Hubbard has been hugely influencial. His decision to concentrate on French double-manual harpsichords, which he says was the joint decision of himself and William Dowd,has a legacy still with us, in concerts and recordings.
30 May 2025
Not square – and not a piano – but a fascinating survival from the late middle ages. This upright harpsichord [clavicytherium] has long been credited as the earliest surviving string keyboard instrument. And this seems to be confirmed by a recent, succesful attempt to date it by dendro-chronology. And if anything,this may push it father back into history than was previously agreed.
1470 is the newly proposed date for it. But what was it for? And who played it?
At the Royal College of Music, behind the Royal Albert Hall in Kensington, there is to be a conference on 24 June assembling experts from Europe and America to consider these questions.
But I don't hold out much hope that there will be anything useful reported about suitable repertoire!
22 March 2025
My brief visit to Gardiner Houlgate's auction room in Corsham produced an unexpected bonus. I was not expecting to see the 1790 fortepiano by Matthew & William Stodart, but there it was, sitting at the foot of the metal stairs to the mezzanine floor. What a handsome instrument! Naturally, I tried the keys – such an agreeable touch. Such an excellent tone! Of course, it had been sold in the previous sale (at a reasonable price) so what it was doing here I do not know — but I was happy to see it again.
Nearby was this excellent harpsichord by Shudi & Broadwood (1785) offering me the chance to compare some of its technical details with a sister instrument (Shudi & Broadwood, 1781) that I worked on at the Bate Collection, some years ago. Two days later this suberb example of eighteenth-century craftsmanship, by an internationally famous maker, was sold at a hammer price of £25000 (and it struggled to get to the reserve). Compare this, if you will, with a harpsichord of very similar appearance, sold in the same rooms in June 2022.
To avoid confusion let me make it clear – this photo is NOT a Shudi & Broadwood, but an instrument that was catalogued both here and in the most respected sources, as 'Andreas Ruckers, 1614'. Hard to distinguish isn't it? Well, this 'Ruckers' sold at an astonishing hammer price of £180,000 (plus commission).
On this page, under the date 10 March, below, you may see the outcome of ill-advised alterations to an ancient instrument, in that instance the intervention was only to the makers' inscription. The piano that had been foolishly altered made a very disappointing exit at £420. Yet, in the 'Ruckers' harpsichord showing above, you see a much more heavily compromised instrument. In the 18th century, in London, in the same era as the Shudi & Broadwood, this harpsichord was given a total 'makeover' – new keys, new jacks, mahogany veneer, lid, stand and pedal. Later, in the mid-twentieth century, it was again comprehensively rebuilt in Switzerland, with new internal bracing.
Such is the 'magic' of the Ruckers name! Two ostensibly English harpsichords, veneered in mahogany, with the usual brass fittings; both having pedals to change the stops: one purporting to be Andreas Ruckers' work, sold at approximately £200K and the other, in far better condition, by Shudi & Broadwood, sold at only a fraction of the price. One was just about as original as can be. The other compromised in the fullest extent. Such topsy-turvy auction results!
19 March 2025
For many years this strange little instrument was exhibited as part of the historic collection in Broadwood's London showroom, together with the fake Broadwood square piano now at Fenton House. And like the '1774 Broadwood' it has been subject to poorly-considered 'decorative' additions. The worst feature is the painted flowers to either side of the perfectly genuine Broadwood inscription – sprays of flowers poorly done would never have been approved by Broadwood. And, let us be clear, this piano is from Broadwood's workshop, evidently a special order for an established client. The gentleman in question was Sir Peter Burrell, who in 1796 (the date of this piano), was elevated to the peerage as Lord Gwydir.
Another teasingly enigmatic inscription in front of the keys, added in the 20th-century, records a later owner – Mary A. Crawley, a name that seems familiar to many. Search the internet and you will be reminded that this is the name of a well known and much loved character in Downton Abbey – a TV drama set, as it happens, in just the period when the real Mary Crawley owned this curious little piano.
10 March 2025
When I visited Augustine Ford back in 1993/4 my quest was to examine his Adam Beyer square piano. The aim was to assemble as much information as possible, for an article in the Galpin Society Journal, which duly appeared the following year. (Available on this website.)
At his home in Kew, near the famous botanic gardens, it was a great surprise to see just how many square pianos he had, most of them squeezed in to one room, downstairs. There was much to see, so I was quite busy writing notes on each instrument. I recall a particularly handsome piano by Nicholas Southwell, but I don't remember seeing the Frederick Beck piano that appears in auction rooms at Corsham this week. What a surprising design!
Quite honestly, at Corsham I was expecting to see a 'dodgy' instrument – if not an outright fake. The instrument is so dubiously inscribed as to make sceptics of any potential bidders. The purported maker's inscription on the soundboard reads 'Beck & Corrie, 1791' followed by the usual swirl, but when compared with the neatness of Beck's customary signature, this lettering looks clumsy, and anomalous. Worse still, the inscription above the keys is awkward and unconvincing.
'F. Beck' is of passable standard, but after it comes a puzzling blank filled with some very unconvincing swirls. Look how tentative these are. Hold this board up to the light, so that the neon strip lights in the room reflect in the varnish, and you see that the space between Beck and Londini was scraped away and, though the shellack varnish matches in colour and consitency, an oval ridge catches the light where the surface was not cut down and polished. Taking the soundboard inscription as our clue, we might suspect that someone has removed the name of Corrie. But if that were so the inscription ought to have the Latin plural 'fecerunt'. Here is what we see:
Here we see again the poor quality of the swirls, and the incompetent lettering after 'fec'. Clearly, it did say 'fecerunt' originally. See too, how the green myrtle leaves were added later, obscuring part of the date.
Why would anyone deface an instrument in this way? Clearly it has to be someone who is unaware of their own incompetence. --------------
Now to the instrument itself. As the auction catalogue reports, it has an unusual type of Prellmechanik. Among London-made square pianos it has no precedent or antecedent. A one-off. Or is it?
This is in principle the mechanism used by Ignaz Senft of Augsburg c.1790, first noted by Rosamond Harding [1931] with her drawing of Berlin's No. 1280, [Pruessicher Kulturbesitz]. I gave a more complete drawing of this in The Pianoforte in the Classical Era, page 161 [1998]. The principle is Prellmechanik, or flip action, with reversed orientation [i.e. not 'retro' as we expect to see it], with an under-lever to improve the velocity ratio. It works well. Given a fair run, it was probably a great improvement on Zumpe's 'English' action, or indeed the more common retro Prellmechanik mit Trieber, used after 1790 by makers from the western areas of Germany. We are left to wonder how this German innovation appeared in London, and why it never 'caught on'. [There's more about this in an Appendix to The Pianoforte in the Classical Era, in which I proposed an unambiguous binary classification system for piano actions.]
9 March 2025
It is becoming rare these days to see unusual instruments in auction sales, but Gardiner Houlgate, in Corsham, near the famous, picture-postcard village of Lacock, have three items of interest in this week's offerings. A rare early clavichord; a puzzling square piano apparently by Frederick Beck; and a unique miniature square piano by Broadwood – much to consider – so I intend to travel there tomorrow to examine them. Report to follow.
View Blog for July-Dec 2017 here
View blog for Jan.to June 2017
Return to Michael Cole's Home Page.