Adam Beyer was one of the most prolific and successful piano makers in London during the eighteenth century. Most of his output was in the form of square pianos, instruments which he manufactured to extremely high standards and sold at premium prices to discerning clients. His workshop was located in Compton Street, Soho from 1768 to 1800.

Beyer Square Piano No. 122 

Square piano by Adam Beyer, 1774 [No.122]

An example of his early period square pianos is shown above. It has a 58 note keyboard, three hand-operated stops at the left [just visible] and rests on a simple trestle base. This example, restored in Michael Cole's workshop for a private client, is noteworthy for being the oldest known instrument of this type equipped with an original pedal. It operates a series of levers to raise the front flap of the lid, enabling the performer to create contrasts of loud and soft, or more accurately speaking, muted or open tone. But what distinguishes this instrument, and others from Beyer's workshop, as compared with ordinary pianos by Zumpe & Buntebart, or Pohlman is the marvellous accuracy of the workmanship. This can be seen immediately in the quality of the ivory keys, the scrupulously neat inlay work. The same attention to detail will be found in the hammers, dampers and every internal part.

Beyer Piano Keys No.19 

Keys from an early Beyer piano [No.19]

Notice in the keys shown above how Beyer has carefully tapered the height of the sharps from front to back; an unusual feature in English instruments.

For detailed information on this maker and his instruments follow the link 'Adam Beyer, Pianoforte Maker'. About half of Beyer's surviving pianos are now in museums of one kind or another.

Many reference books state that Adam Beyer was an economic migrant from Germany, and that he was one of twelve piano makers from Saxony who had worked for Gottfried Silbermann and supposedly arrived as a group in London in 1760 (collectively dubbed in popular histories 'the Twelve Apostles'). There are gaping holes in the credibility of this story. First, it can be shown that Beyer did not arrive in London in 1760. During the 1750s he was resident in St Pancras parish, working as an organ builder. Second, it is clear that when he bought a house in Pond Street, Hampstead in 1782 he must have been a British citizen — yet, unlike foreign-born instrument makers such as Jacob Kirckman, or Burkat Shudi, there is no record that Beyer ever applied for Naturalization. There is, of course, no compelling reason why he should do so, because, unlike many European cities no permission or licence was needed to set up in trade. However, only British citizens could legally buy or inherit land — yet this he did. On his death he left a quarter share in his house to each of his four daughters, devolving upon 'their heirs and assigns forever'. So it is beyond doubt that he owned the freehold, and therefore it appears he was then a British citizen. Yet strangely, the piano maker James Shudi Broadwood, writing in 1838, says that Beyer was a German. Searches in the archives of every city in Germany that has been proposed as his birthplace have proved negative, as have similar searches in English church records. This mystery is still unresolved.

Adam Beyer died in January 1804 and was buried in the church yard at Hampstead, where his younger brother Lorence who was closely involved in the piano-making business had been previously interred. From Adam's marriage with Ann Lewis (St Anne's, Soho, on January 13th, 1760) there were four daughters, and there are many living descendents. One of them is a baroque violinist with an extensive discography, so the musical connection lives on, while another line has produced eminent academics. Adam Beyer also had a son, Adam Samuel Beyer baptised on 2 January 1774, but unhappily this child died as an infant. His mother also died before 1782. Lorence Beyer was never married. So the piano business died with Adam. But the instruments were so well made, and so durable, that their owners often cherished them long after they had ceased to be useful. One example, No. 440, made in 1779, stood at the foot of the stairs at Cusworth Hall, Doncaster, for 180 years, never opened, and simply used as a side table. It is now in the Bate Collection at the Faculty of Music, Oxford.

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