22 October 2024
I have mentioned Chorley's before on this Blog – not far from my home, in Gloucestershire; situated in a beautiful wooded valley; and only half a mile from Prinknash monastery, where the chapel will be open. Today they had for sale a large early 18th-century portrait (among many) that attracted my attention by the incidental items included. I wonder if you saw them?
Chorley's catalogue was very informative – portrait of a lady seated at a pianoforte. A piano indeed! As you see (I hope) it is in fact a spinet – as would be expected at the date of this picture, which on stylistic grounds we can confidently date to the period 1720-1730. 'A lady'? Well, if you stretch a point. She is evidently a countess or someone of similar status. How do I know? Look to the other item in the background. I hope you can see it on your screen. It is a massive fluted classical column. It signifies rank.
Where have you seen a female portrait with a similiar composition? Queen Charlotte? Painted by Alan Ramsay, a far better painter than the dauber responsible for this picture. But it's typical of the time. The face is poorly modelled. Her head doesn't seem to belong to the body. Her left arm is very badly drawn. 'Circle of Jonathan Richardson' according to the catalogue. Richardson's name is not honoured by this speculative association. Nevertheless, it is typical of so many English portraits of the period, ridiculously elevated by art dealers and critics. [This one sold at £2800, plus commission.]
How about the spinet, that attracted my attention? It has ebony naturals, as you can see, and solid ivory sharps. The top note appears to be d3. It is basically out-of-date, if we assume the portrait was painted in or after 1720. But I recall that when she died in 1714, Queen Anne bequeathed her much loved Spinnet to the Master of choristers at the Chapel Royal, evidently hopeful that it would be valued there. Ladies of the highest rank in society played such instruments.
16 October 2024
I first met Theo in 1992/3. He came here to see a harpsichord I had for sale – a second-hand Italian-style instrument of four and a half octaves, made entirely from Lebanon Cedar (except for the action parts). The natural keys were of clear yellow boxwood and the sharps of re-cycled ebony. I loved it because not only did it look good, whenever you opened the lid the exotic fragance of Cedar gave delight even before you heard a note of music.
Theo appreciated it. He liked all things beautiful and exotic. And his idea was that his wife, who sat and played the harpsichord, would fill their Cotswold stone cottage with charming sounds while the harpsichord would be a beautiful item to place in their sitting room.
But Theo had a special request: would I tune it to A=432? This, he explained, was the resonant frequency of the universe. At that pitch the music would have an extra spiritual dimension. I might add that he was also a pioneer in 'colour therapy'. He had a number of lady clients who paid for consultations to set their lives in harmony by his advice in these matters. (He looked the part: a kind of mystic persona of indeterminate age, with a white beard and a certain personal charm that was hard to define.)
He bought the harpsichord, of course, and I tuned it, as requested to A=432 Herz, after delivery to their country cottage. But it did not end well. I had phone calls asking me to attend to the instrument because some notes were not playing. When I arrived I discovered that a couple of jacks were stuck in the registers, or were very slow in action. You could see the cause of the trouble very soon. There was an open wood-burning fire close by — charming and romantic, but very smoky. And Theo generally kept the lid open because he liked to see the cedar mouldings and the brass wires. So the soundboard was very dusty. They also had a large dog whose hairs seem to get everywhere. So I cleaned everything out, and it worked again — for the time being.
My memories of this came back to me when I saw recently, on the internet, a number of soothing music videos, vaunting the healing powers of this universal resonance at 432 Hz. But none of them tries to explain what frequency the other notes of the scale are, or what is the magic temperament that maintains this mystic harmony.
4 October 2024
A friend told me recently about his first visit to Hatchlands, and the delightful experience of hearing music from a Ruckers harpsichord. How beautiful the sound! How splendid the instrument was! I smiled, of course, and agreed: a beautiful sound!
A harpsichord player himself, of many years experience, he had never experienced such an instrument, close up. Recordings, yes. But that has much less immediacy. The sound of Alec Cobbe's splendid instrument, given a precise historic tuning, and in such an impressive room in that glorious National Trust house – who could fail to like it?
I said nothing to my visitor, except to agree that, standing beside such an instrument and hearing it so well played, is a delightful experience. But – and you guessed there would be a 'BUT' – what my friend saw and heard was not what he believed it to be. This was not Ruckers; not the celebrated Flemish harpsichord sound that once had been accorded the same prestige as Cremona violins. He, and many other visitors, come away with the most respectful reverence for the great Flemish harpsichord makers – but it is wholly misplaced. The luscious aural experience, the charm of the decor, and even the aura of antiquity, take us only to Paris, more than a century after the instrument left the Ruckers' workshop. Above the keys it says: ANDREAS RUCKERS ME FECIT ANTWERPIAE 1636. Very misleading.
Alec Cobbe's beautifully illustrated catalogue is more informative. He says, Ravalement by Henri Hemsch, Paris, 1763. So what you hear is the sound that pleased Parisian connoisseurs of the later 18th century. 'Ravalement' – yes, such a range of possible meanings. The keys are replacements. The naturals are ebony, in keeping with French taste. The touch is nothing like the Flemish original. The body of the instrument is 895mm wide – far wider than Ruckers left it, if indeed he did make it. The gorgeous pictorial panels and the painting under the lid bear not the least resemblance to its original style as a diminutive harpsichord with just 45 notes and only one set of 8' strings, plus an octave set. Nothing at all resembles the Flemish 17th-century original. Which would not be so bad, except that visitors go away (as my friend did) with the idea that Ruckers harpsichords sound wonderful. And it's not just here at Hatchlands that the misconceptions arise. In private or public collections, in Europe or America, what passes for the 'Ruckers sound' is actually the French ideal.
Is there any original Ruckers harpsichord now playable in its original state? The nearest that I know of is Thomas Twyning's Andreas Ruckers of 1740 [bought by Isobel Skinner in 1922, and now at Yale]. It remains a single manual. The stops still project through the right side cheek. And it has just the two registers - 1 x 8', 1 x 4'. The case has not been widened, but its keys are English replacements, when the missing notes of the short octave were inserted, long ago. But if you sit down to play there will be something like the original touch, and 'a certain silver crispness' in the tone that Twyning liked, with none of the lugubrious resonance that my friend, and students of music, attribute to 'Ruckers'.
There is a sample of its sound on the internet, if you search from the Yale collection. But it is electronically mediated, and you will not feel the touch.
12 August 2024
When three volumes from the Broadwood Archive arrived at the Bodleian Library (Oxford) in 1971, Charles Mould was one of the first to examine them. His delight in their contents is shown in the first two issues of The English Harpsichord Magazine in 1973/4. As he was then preparing a second edition of Donald Boalch's 'Makers of the Harpsichord & Clavichord' his eye was naturally drawn to the sales of harpsichords, their serial numbers, and of course any famous names he spotted – for example Gainsborough, Reynolds, and Clementi. What a great wealth of information was drawn to our attention!
John Broadwood's Journal makes fascinating reading for instrument collectors. And, naturally, it has been a primary reference used in many books and articles. But is that the only use we can make of it?
With so many names of clients, and their addresses, could we not analyse it for more meaningful content? If you do you will discover that at least 80 percent of Broadwood's clients were female. For every male who played the harpsichord or early piano, there were at least four women. Imagine a hall filled with keyboard music practitioners. You would see immediately that there is a very strong, I would say 'overwhelmingly obvious' gender bias. (In passing, I would say that you can use the data to examine other factors too; but that is another story.)
With Charles Mould's eminence as an authority on old instruments, following his editorial work on Boalch II, and his doctoral thesis, regarding Jacob Kirckman, it was natural that he should also be consulted by researcher Gillian Sheldrick when working on Thomas Green's Accounts in 1992. And again, he scrutinised the documents noting the names of harpsichord makers, drawing attention to several 'lost' names and their instruments, and the tantalising survival, in Hertfordshire, of harpsichords by Charles Haward, and Samuel Blumer – items unknown today.
But, again, there are other ways to examine these primary source documents. In 2002, in a paper given in Germany, I used them to demonstrate that more than 80 percent of square piano players in the 1770s were female. Is this important? (In case you are wondering, the answer is 'YES', from many perspectives.)
So, when I was able to examine a copy of 'Women and the Piano', by Susan Tomes, it was with more than ordinary interest. Harvard University Press are the publishers, and it's no surprise to see that it comes as a neat, 300 page hardback, well produced and pleasant to handle. You will recall that the same publisher produced Hubbard's Three Centuries of Harpsichord Making in 1965, and there is a palpable continuity in a material sense - the format, the paper etc. And since it sells for only 25 pounds sterling, this book is very affordable.
As you may see, it promises 'a History in 50 Lives' – most of them predictable – Marianna Mozart, Fanny Mendlessohn, Clara Schumann. You can guess the treatment too. Highly capable pianists and/or composers who were never given their due credit. It's a viable perspective, if you want to look at the world that way. I have highlighted Montgeroult on this blog some time ago, whose music I find pleasing, but not profound. And Miss Guest.
Susan Tomes' focus is exclusively on concert pianists - the highest peak of achievement as some would say, but how much more insightful it might have been had she thought more deeply about the profound but more subtle influences of Mary Marsh, Anna Maria Collins (Mrs Bertie) or the poignant fate of Elizabeth Randles.
Looking again at the cover, I see that it is 'Surely destined to become a feminist classic' (Judith Weir). Enough said.
! August 2024
In the centre of Oxford - Debenham's store remains closed.
From the window above the sign DEBENHAMS Thomas Taphouse looked out onto Broad Street, as far as the Sheldonian Theatre where the university's big events take place - formal degree ceremonies and such. But Taphouse was not part of that scene. He was the son of a farm labourer, from Berkshire, when hard times overtook the industry in the 1840s. But while most agricultural workers struggled to keep body and soul together, Thomas Taphouse and his father made a bold move to Oxford, and there set up a small business repairing and selling secondhand furniture. How they progressed from small premises in the west of the city (near Osney) to occupy a prime commercial position in the heart of the city is a bit of a mystery. But it is beyond doubt that where you now see the DEBENHAMS sign, there was in 1900 an elaborate Victorian frontage, marked as C. Taphouse & Son. What an amazing treasure house of musical items it was!
Starting as a humble piano tuner, and self-taught church organist, the 'son' (Thomas) accumulated the most impressive collection of historic instruments in England, as well as an amazing library of two thousand printed scores and manuscipts. The best description can be found in the Musical Times in 1904, when a visitor interviewed him for the benefit of posterity. Taphouse was elected Mayor of Oxford a year later, but died suddenly soon afterwards. At the Bate Collection, half a mile south in St Aldates, I have many times sat at the splendid Shudi & Broadwood harpsichord of 1781, putting it in playable order after the curator had almost given up. (The stops were jammed, and many plectra were broken.) Sad to say, the Bate's policy of allowing access to students and visitors (by prior appointment) has resulted in problems. The machine pedal has now been disengaged, and the tuning neglected. A pity.
There also, one may see the Spinnet by Harrison (1749) that was in the Taphouse Collection, and the much-admired unfretted clavichord by Hass of Hamburgh, 1743, which I never dared to pull up to an acceptable pitch as someone, whom I will not name, decided to repair cracks in the soundboard by cutting a huge square hole in the baseboard. It seems stable enough, but how can we trust a 'restoration' that has been so inadequately reported?
The first antique instrument that Taphouse ever acquired was another Shudi & Broadwood, with the extra half-octave in the bass, dated 1773. He would have done well to keep it, but was persuaded to sell to Henry Fowler Broadwood - for fifteen pounds! The late Charles West Wilson, a collector in Pennsylvania, told me that he thought it had the best sound of any harpsichord he had ever played.
18 July 2024
You may have seen this picture before: Edmund Blair Leighton is the artist. He was a wonderfully inventive painter, and usually very competent in his draughtmanship. But something has gone wrong here. Do you see it?
The right side of the piano has been extended to suit the composition. To place the clergyman where the artist wants him, and have his arm resting on the piano, Blair Leighton has distorted the structure of the piano. The right does not belong to the left!
But otherwise it is, as usual, wonderfully accurate, and well conceived. There is another painting by the same artist, with the same model, but there is no clergyman, and the composition works very well.
12 July 2024
If you have read 'The First Piano in England' you will be familiar with the name Anna-Maria Collins, the young lady who married Willoughby Bertie in Florence, in 1727. After the wedding they began on their long journey to England with their pianoforte made by Cristofori. As Mrs. Bertie she will have travelled the same little country lane that I did yesterday, from Godstow Abbey on the River Thames, a last mile to the west, to arrive at Bertie's home, a huge mansion and country estate at Wytham. How few changes there have been since! Wytham remains a tiny isolated village with quaint cottages, and a well-tended church where, looking for any memorials there might be to the Bertie family, I found instead the grave stone inscription to Colonel Edward Purcell (1656-1717). As the inscription confirms, he was a brother of Henry, gentleman musician to the Chapel Royal. Why Edward after an illustrious army career should be interred at this remote place is a mystery.
The phenomenal mansion of the Bertie family is just beyond the churchyard wall. But what a wall it is! There's no possible view of the house. The entrance gates are closed and impenetrable. A path nearby leads to the butler's house, but I reckoned my trespass might not be welcomed.
Here is the view that a casual visitor cannot glimpse. Beyond the wall, the eastern front is still much as it would have been when the new Mrs. Bertie first saw it. (Jan Kyp's engraving of 1708 shows very much the same appearance.) What a contrast with her earlier life as the daughter of an inn-keeper in Italy! (A superior sort of inn, no doubt, and a well educated young lady!)
But what would she make of this austere-looking manor house? It doesn't look attractive at first sight. Fifteen years later her circumstances were to change again, when her husband Willoughby succeeded to the title of Earl of Abingdon. Anna-Maria thus became a Countess! But she still continued her musical interests, as I deduce from the oucome of her children's lives.
Would it not be wonderful that some newly-discovered document confirmed that the first pianoforte in England was brought here to Wytham? But there seems no chance of anything useful in this line as the family papers were put to the flames by her grandson, the 5th Earl, in the nineteenth century. We are likewise at a loss for her portrait, though we can keep hoping for that, as it must have been a quality painting, judging by her status, and the portrait of Willougby.
The nearest that we come to any musical document is the catalogue of an auction in 1778 when the contents of Wytham were sold off – lock, stock and barrel, as they say. This was some 14 years after the Countess had died. But this surviving catalogue, in the Oxfordshire Archives, records the presence (in an otherwise bare room), of 'a harpsichord'. Evidently not a prized item, as there is no further information. Was this simply an old-fashioned instrument, no longer loved or played? Or maybe even the long-forgotten pianoforte from Florence? We'll never know.
London estate agents Savill's, are currently seeking a buyer for Wytham, having instructions from the current owners, a mysterious international entity called Effective Ventures Foundation. They hope for £15 million, but may have to settle for something less.
Long separated from the historic house, Wytham Woods, 600 acres of prime real estate, has been owned and run by Oxford University's environmental research department since 1943. If you apply online for a permit, you may gain free access to this glorious landscape paradise — and we did. Within these woods and meadows that once belonged to Bertie you find utter peace. Listen. You hear nothing but the natural sounds of birds and humming bees. Such peace! It is hard to believe that you are only three miles from the centre of Oxford, crammed with tourists, jostling to go they know not where.
1 July 2024
Readers who have followed this blog for a while may recall the extraordinary piano shown on this site on 1 November 2022 -- the most beautiful piece of nonsense that I ever saw. Beginning with a very ordinary London-made square piano circa 1815, mounting above it the remnant of a Southwell upright, complete with brass gallery; then decorating it with very tasteful paintings in the manner of Angelica Kaufmann. What a beautiful object!- created by G. F. Dean and his wife Lizzie, and sold from their shop in Davies Street, Berkeley Square. I believe it is now in Florida.
The cabinet showing here (to be offered at Toovey's Auction in Sussex) began in just the same way. There was a square piano, with what I believe are its original legs/stand. The glass-door cabinet that stands on it has been made by an excellent craftsman, using first-class materials, around 1900-1910. In England? I am not so sure.
The historic piano that disappeared in this process of rebuilding and re-purposing, has some give-away signs of Irish work. The 5-panel front; the chunky no-nonsense legs, creating a stand several inches shorter than the piano; and inlay work around the plinth: these all suggest Dublin, circa 1795-1805. Sadly, the piano-maker's name is lost. Everything musical has been discarded. But I suspect this was once a square piano by Robert Woffington. There are a couple of other possibilities - Nicholas Southwell, perhaps. But win or lose, the quality of the cabinet work, both the original, and the twentieth-century upper part, deserve some admiration.
24 June 2024
Lady Radnor, at the piano, circa 1895: her portrait hangs at Longford Castle, near Salisbury, where she entertained many musical house guests. The story you inevitably hear concerns the suite of baroque-style dances, composed by Hubert Parry – originally intended to be performed by her ladies-only string orchestra – Lady Radnor's Suite, still a great favourite. In the UK part of it was heard on Radio 3 this very morning.
But that's not the story that always comes to my mind. Rather I think of her as the owner of the important historic harpsichord, that I conjecture she acquired in the late 1890s, soon after this portrait was made. This was none other than the only surviving instrument of Hermanus Tabel, now stored off site by Warwick Museum in a very unsatisfactory depot. I wonder where she found it – maybe in some forgotten storeroom at Longford Castle, maybe brought to her attention by a musical friend. It must have been in poor condition, whichever way it was.
She sent it to Broadwoods in 1899/1900, so that it might be restored and played again in her musical gatherings, I guess. It would be useful to know more about this, but unhappily there is no documentary record known, though I suspect that Broadwoods may have submitted some kind of report. And, of course, the place to look for it would be Longford Castle. As fas as I know, no one has done this. Several years ago I enquired of the castle's archivist/librarian, but it seems that it would likely be a very time-consuming task as the musical documents and correspondence of Lady Helen Radnor have not yet been collated and fully catalogued.
Herman Tabel, from Amsterdam, introduced many critically important innovations, working in London from about 1715. These laid the foundations for the success of Jacob Kirckman and Burkat Shudi (and some lesser-known instrument makers too, such as Blasser, Wilbrook and Blumer). The standard reference works, by Raymond Russell and Frank Hubbard, give quite insufficient credit to Tabel. This is compounded by the unfortunate intervention of Henry Fowler Broadwood (1862) when editing his father's ill-considered notes for publication. In these 'Notes & Observations' (originallly written in 1838) we read that Tabel brought to England the skills he had acquired in the workshops founded by Ruckers in Antwerp. This even draws Grant O'Brien into some misleading remarks in his book 'Ruckers: a harpsichord building tradition' in 1990. The truth is that Tabel did not introduce anything from the Ruckers tradition: all features of the Ruckers style were already well known in London, and certainly there were London-based harpsichord makers who were so familiar with Flemish instruments that they even ventured to build fakes – for example, the pseudo-Ruckers harpsichord at Ham House. Tabel, on the other hand, struck out in directions that others had never taken. Furthermore, there is no record that he ever worked in Antwerp, and nothing in his sole-surviving harpsichord to suggest it.
What a pity that we have no reports of Lady Radnor's correspondence with the Broadwood company!
17 June 2024
Supporters of the Cheltenham Coffee Concerts haven't seen much of Sophie this year, or indeed last year. The reason being that she has been in Cambridge (as a student at Magdalene College). The bonus in her absence is that she was the source of information that the Pepys Library has recently acquired what they say 'could be the spinet that Samuel Pepys bought from Charles Haward in 1668'. Well, indeed, it could be. But having inspected it last week I have to say that it is not visibly dated, which is a pity, because if it were we might readily show that this speculation is unwarranted. Sorry to be a sceptic, but it could date anywhere from 1666 to 1680. However, with no split sharps, and ascending only to c3 (rather than d3), it has fewer keys than any other extant specimen, which suggests that it is probably the oldest surviving spinet from any London maker – a treasure, if only for that reason.
It is a charming little instrument, beautifully decorated internally, as you may see from the photo herewith.
These arabesques, which continue onto the wrestplank, are very similar to the ornamentation seen on Flemish, harpsichords, so highly valued at the time this spinet was made, and appear blue rather than black. The bridge and nut (visually identified as pear wood) are very much lower than eighteenth-century examples, no more than 7mm high [my estimate] and the keys likewise are very dainty. The heads of the naturals are just over 31mm long, and the sharps [solid ivory] are very low compared with later instruments - about 8mm high. This surely implies a very different technique, and style of performance, alien to players accustomed to the organ, or piano.
The inscription above the keys reads: CAROLVS HAWARD FECIT.
It was the gift of Charles West Wilson of Pennsylvania, his wishes presumably dictated by the college's association with Samuel Pepys. The library also has a seventeenth-century chair which is said to be his, and the bookshelves are well stocked with ancient, leather-bound volumes. Earlier provevance for the spinet leads back only as far as Edmund Legg, the father of my late friend from Cirencester. There's no record of where he bought it.
23 May 2024
Sold this week at auction was a this well preserved copy of J. C. Bach's Opus 10, dating from 1774, in a period binding. Charming music – there are some quite nice recordings of these sonatas on YouTube with Miklós Spányi playing the keyboard part – well worth hearing.
The title page, showing here, includes not one, but two glaring errors — a letter missing from Bach's name, and an extra letter in Lady Melbourne's.
She bought a new harpsichord from John Broadwood in May 1773, soon after her husband was elavated to the peerage (thanks to her astute cultivation of the right people!). This was a double manual with pedals for the machine stop and swell, which I guess was installed in their impressive newly-built London home in Piccadilly. Lady Melbourne also had a harpsichord at their country home, Brocket Hall near Hatfield, where Thomas Green went to tune, 1770 to 1779. This instrument is the puzzling mystery item, listed in Boalch as by 'Bach & Nofree' – found in Green's Account book. It was probably a much older, simpler harpsichord than the Shudi & Broadwood, formerly owned by her sister-in-law, Anne Lamb (the unmarried sister of Lord Melbourne). We find her paying for Green's visits until 1768, enigmatically recorded in Green's Accounts as 'Miss Lamb at Brocket Hall', .
12 May 2024
BRUGES: horse-drawn carriages on the cobbled streets; carillon concerts in the evening from the Belfort tower; charter boats cruising the canals of the old town, filled with visitors; dozens of restaurants around the market square and almost every citizen ready to converse in English — this Flemish town is well prepared to welcome foreign tourists, and never disappoints.
In the days when I used to exhibit my instruments, and mix with the international set of makers, the Flanders Festival was always a highlight. This year their rotation of special interests brings back the pianoforte competition so I have no doubt there will be a good attendance for the makers' exhibition in early August. That is when the semi-finals and final of the pianoforte competition reach a conclusion. I don't envy the judges. Almost forty contestants were showing in the preliminary round this weekend. What a phenomenal standard they all reached! How can you eliminate any of them? Not easy!
Every one of them had amazing dexterity. In this first round, they had to choose one of C.P.E. Bach's fantasias; one of Kalkbrenner's Etudes; and a third piece of their own choice from the classical repertoire, each piece to be played on a 'historically suitable' fortepiano. The prestige of this festival is clearly revealed in the geographical origins of the competitors. Every European region seems to be represented, together with the expected cohort of Japanese players; Korean pianists, and some from South America. You name it, they were there. And what astonishing skill – such deft touch, such rapidity of execution, and so many replica fortepianos of a good standard [though we could not see the makers identified].
I chose the photo showing here for its pictorial quality - not for historical technique. But it is typical in many ways, in particular that the ubiquitous Anton Walter style Viennese fortepianos, circa 1800, were much the most numerous. There were also some that purported to be copies of J. A. Stein. This just shows how prevalent such instruments are nowadays in conservatories, worldwide. It's good that they play well, and mostly sound credible. But is this really representative of the whole European landscape when Haydn, Mozart and CPE Bach were alive? Did Bach, in Hamburgh, ever play on such instruments? [One brave young lady played on a German square piano, but I cannot say I enjoyed it, and I doubt it will win her much favour with the judges.] And why, when playing Kalkbrenner's music (as they were required to), did most contestants play on replica Viennese pianos? For those who don't know Kalkbrenner well, let me say that this composer spent almost the whole of his life in Paris and London, and had a close professional relationship with Pleyel. Very few conservatories seem to have any such pianos, or so it appears.
Tomorrow, Monday, the list of semi-finalists will be announced. And when they get to Bruges in August they will have the choice of a much wider selection of instruments – English and French, as well as the expected Viennese examples – restored pianos as well as replicas. So let us hope that English and French pianos will be played with the same kind of panache that we saw in the preliminaries this weekend.
It is not clear to me how long YouTube will keep the Livestream videos playable. But for the present they are there, on YouTube, so everyone may form their own opinions. I saw one contestant who really grabbed my attention with thoughtful playing, but I hesitate to give the name, as I have found from previous experience that the judging panel usually give only a minor placing to my favourites!
23 April 2024
Many Broadwood square pianos can be found on YouTube, but rarely the early type – as patented by Broadwood in 1783 – with brass underdampers. So it was with some curiosity that I listened to this new upload by Anders Muskens. He is well known by now for his recordings on a Longman & Broderip square piano, but here is something different, and interesting. The recording quality is excellent. So well played. And such a pleasure to hear the piano sounding so good. It was an added pleasure to discover, at the end, that this is a piano that I had here for restoration some years ago.
Full marks too for some new repertoire. Schubart – I have often quoted his remarks on instruments to be found in his Aesthetic der Tonkunst (c.1785) but here we have a sample of his compositions – and they are, in my judgment, very attractive.
Why is this music being played in a dungeon? I'll let you find out. It is explained in the video. Anders Muskens link.
7 April 2024
Joseph Merlin (the inventor and musical instrument maker) was not one of the 'common' or ordinary breed – nor did he wish anyone to think him so. He went to ridiculous lengths to foster his image as an eccentric and out-of-the-ordinary personality. Well-bred ladies were quite taken with his antics.
But when it comes to musical instruments, especially keyboard instruments, musicians were well advised to choose reliability, and ease of maintenance, which is just what you should NOT expect of a mad-cap inventor. It shows in all his work. Here you see an example. The man on the floor is attending to the organ pipes, concealed underneath this square piano. The piano itself is labelled 'Joseph Merlin' but it was probably made by Celson or Verel, the long-suffering craftsmen whose task it was to make Merlin's 'inspirations' a reality.
Any experienced piano maker would understand that to design a practical combination instrument of this kind, you must consider how the organ tuner is to access the pipework and mechanism. The solution (as experienced men knew well) was always to place the pipes in a cabinet whose doors can be removed (or opened) to expose the pipes for tuning. You see the same arrangement in the so-called 'chamber organs' used so often in baroque concerts. The keyboard sits at the top, while the pipes are contained in a box underneath. Remove the doors and you can get at the collars on the pipes to adjust the tuning. Of course, you may wish to have an assistant to press the keys, which is just what you see the lady doing in the photo. If you are unfortunate enough to have no assistant you will probably place a lead weight on the key – but then you have to keep moving it for each new note when you are working at the back. Merlin makes the task doubly difficult.
It is much the same with his down-striking hammer mechanism for pianos (originally invented to adapt harpsichords to produce both sounds). With careful adjustment (prior to sale) perhaps it worked well. But the mechanical parts depend on precise regulation, and are so short that it is prone to failure. The beautiful tone of the grand piano recently restored by Ben Marks and Chris Nobbs is charming. The sound, as recorded on a CD is superb. What is more, the instrument looks beautiful. But setting up the mechanism must be a very difficult task, and its durability, as it left Merlin's workshop, very doubtful.
And what can we say of Merlin's clockwork music recording device, fitted with rolls of paper and pencils, as preserved in the Deutches Museum, Munich? Could this ever have worked? Reliably?
As I reported in The Pianoforte in the Clasical Era, the philosopher Jeremy Bentham was quite fascinated by the possibilities of Merlin's combination piano-harpsichord, offered to him for 60 guineas (though reputedly it cost 110 guineas when new), but he suspected that a grand piano from Broadwood or Stodart would be more reliable. 'The tone is very sweet' he wrote, but 'the complexity renders it proportionately liable to be out of order'. He adds, 'I shall buy it, then immediately regret [it]'.
23 March 2024
If you're reading this page you have probably admired some historic square pianos. Perhaps you own such an instrument. But, what music will you play?
If you have a square piano by 'Longman & Broderip' (for example) and it is in good order, you may be tempted to select one of Joseph Haydn's sonatas. Many people do. And of course, it will sound very well. But I found nothing of this sort in Miss Bassett's collection. Her music was offered as Lot 758 at Chorley's Auction Room last week.
It is no hardship for me to visit their saleroom, just a few miles from Cheltenham, found in the monks' former workshops at Prinknash Abbey. Thirty years ago the brothers used to make and sell a distinctive type of pottery, silver-grey in colour, popular with visitors to their shop. But now, their numbers are declining, and their beautiful grounds, given by a well-wisher, are not so well maintained. Visitors are welcome to wander in the Old Monastery Garden, where a lovely stream trickles rather musically down the hillside. Or, if you are feeling energetic, there's an inviting walk uphill through the woods to the monastery chapel. On a sunny day it is very beautiful. I often find others there who appreciate the peace, and tranquility, making their way to this haven of holiness.
For some time now auctioneers Chorley's have been disposing of property that belonged to the Strickland family of Gloucester – portraits, furniture, and books. This month they had a bound collection of music that bears the signature of Julia Strickland (circa 1830 I'd guess). But I see the collection was begun much earlier, about 1770, and the young lady who began it was, like many young people, practicing her handwriting on a spare leaf near the beginning. Miss Bassett, Crofton Hall, Wakefield, is written in the most polished hand. Also Dear Mama, in a much less elegant style.
Her music, at least within this volume, is composed entirely of songs, which I think we may imagine Miss Bassett sang herself. On the title pages you may read the name of many famous singers of the day: Tenducci, Rauzinni and Signora Storace.
Crofton Hall is no more. But a little search on the Internet reveals what it looked like. There is a useful list of the book's contents on Chorley's auction website, including 'The Dying Negro', a popular purchase around 1790, printed by Longman & Broderip in aid of the funds for the Abolitionist Movement, the anti-slavery cause led by William Wilberforce, MP.
On a lighter note, you may have heard the lugubrious arrangement of Tom Bowling sung every year at the 'Last Night of the Proms'. Here in Miss Bassett's collection is the original, composed and published by Charles Dibden, along with several other pieces by him.
Haydn sonatas? Well, they may sound excellent on a Longman & Broderip piano, but that's not what most people were playing, and hearing.
18 March 2024
A sight that cannot be repeated – four identical harpsichords (made and supplied by Tom Goff) lined up for a performance of Bach at the Royal Festival Hall in 1951. The players include George Malcom and Thurston Dart, and the music they're about to play is (you've guessed it) – BWV1065 – a pioneering rendition that many understood to be a great step forward in rendering Bach's music in its original form.
Splendid in appearance, thanks in great measure to the superb cabinet-making skills of J.C. Cobby, these four newly-made harpsichords are deliberately remeniscent of the historical design of Jacob Kirckman, and none the worse for that. But do you notice some departures from the Kirckman example? Reverse colour keyboards we need hardly mention. From the beginning of the harpsichord revival black naturals were expected – a visual reminder that we are not looking at any sort of piano, but a representative of 'ancient' music, a different concept.
Yet Goff was very much in favour of incorporating technological advances, learned by the piano trade. Do you see the extra-wide keyboard end blocks? I think they are not arbitrary, but they're there to make room for the cast metal frames that mimic the grand pianos of the modern era. This permits the bottom boards by which Kirckman closed the soundbox to be dispensed with. Substantial beams of timber (at an angle to the spine) replace the 18th-century framing. Needless to say, the keys owe much to later piano designs – so the players' sensation of the touch was comfortably like the keyboard they were accustomed to.
Regrettably, they were weak in tone. Despite Goff's selection of extra strong birds' feathers, the resulting tone was no match for the orchestral instruments you see here. His answer was to turn to modern technology once more – and amplify the sound using hidden microphones, with cables leading to speakers, distributed along the front of the stage behind strategically positioned plant pots.
Raymond Russell would have none of this. To his great credit he spoke at a conference organised by the Royal Musical Association (when many harpsichord makers were present, including Tom Goff) advocating a return to historical concepts of a resonant body, as he had experienced it when playing restored instruments, from his collection, finding such resonance so much more acceptable than electrical amplification. [Proceedings RMA, 1955-6, at Taylor & Francis website, see 'Harpsichord since 1800'.]
But there is in our days a further aberration – since most people's experience of the harpsichord comes chiefly through recorded sounds, ensembles that include a harpsichord are often manipulated by record producers, using clever technological advances available to recording engineers. Surely, there's only one way to appreciate the true sound of a harpsichord and that is in person, in an appropriate aural space – not the Royal Festival Hall. But full marks to Raymond Russell for calling this out.
4 March 2024
Extravagant inlays, and contrived symmetry when closed, this 'square piano' by [Augustus] Leukfeld exhibits all the strangeness of William Southwell's work. It is to be sold at auction near Cambridge this week. The auctioneer, (Rowleys of Ely) declines to hazard a reading of the maker's inscription, but if you have followed this Blog for a couple of years or more you will have seen a line engraving of Leukfeld's premises in Tottenham Street, with his porters loading just such a piano - ludicrously attired in tailcoats as they place the finished piano in a small horse-drawn dray.)
A flurry of activity in the university town sees a fresh-to-market square piano by Frederick Beck at Cheffins also with a very modest estimate. I guess it has not been played in years, but it appears that everything is there, internally, and though it's not dated it has the characteristic features of Beck's pianos circa 1780.
And with Fellows Auction rooms in Birmingham offering the beautiful Schoene & Vinsen piano showing below there is plenty on offer to tempt collectors and musicians.
22 February 2024
My admiration for the work of Schoene & Vinsen is second only to my endless delight in the decoration of this piano - which, as I explained before on this Blog, was most likely the work of Lizzie Dean and her husband, antiques dealer George Frederick Dean, in London about 1900-1910. It is a masterpiece of decorative enhancement.
But when I saw it last year at Fellows Auction Rooms in Birmingham I was not tempted to bid for it. The structural problems, and regrettable interventions it has suffered make its re-instatement as a musical instrument very difficult. It seems someone else has now recognised this, because it is to re-appear in the same rooms on 5 March. Let us hope that it will find a new home where its decorative appeal and musical merit will be restored. It deserves a place in any collection where European Classical arts are appreciated. The buyer (if one can be found) must be prepared to spend plenty of money if it is ever to function again musically.* The vendor evidently hopes to recoup his losses. A year older, a little wiser. *Hammer price £1030.
If you wish to remind yourself of the instrument and my comments it can be found on an earlier section of this Blog under the date 1 March 2023. [Go to the bottom of this page and select the year.]
11 February 2024
If you are familiar with the music of J.C. Bach you can imagine what a delight it was to begin Saturday morning with one of his most charming chamber music compositions – the one we know as the Septet in C. This music was recorded many years ago [1987] by the English Concert, directed by Trevor Pinnock – a delightful recording in which he played on an early Broadwood square piano from Finchcocks Museum. In Chelteham we heard this music as a quartet, 2 violins and cello, with the keyboard part rendered by Catherine Thomas on triple harp.
As you may see, an excellent attendance was there to hear this rare event at St Philip & St James', in Cheltenham. A breathless hush came over them, with not a single fidget. Such a charming performance!
Charles Avison composed the trio that followed, he who rubbished Vivaldi, claiming that such poor music would be soon forgotten. But Avison's music fell flat after J. C. Bach, for me at least, but the hour-long concert hit a new high with the audience when Handel's harp concerto was delightfully played as we've never heard it before, with the original Welsh-design triple harp, such as the composer would have known.
5 February 2024
The severe damage done to music and concert-giving by government restrictions of 2020 is receding into the past. People are going to concerts, thank heaven, mingling and chatting happily as they did before. So, at last month's Coffee Concert 170 people came to hear an hour's music and gave generously, to swell the funds for further events. Next Saturday in Cheltenham we will have the pleasure of a quartet of excellent players performing Handel and J. Chr. Bach. And I shall have a treat ... hearing for the first time (in ensemble) the sound of the triple harp, an instrument that is so rarely heard today outside Wales. The organiser is of course Warwick Cole, but with both of his daughters away at distant universities, the coffee and tea dispensary may not be up to former standards.
Later this month we have another unusual treat when Gordon Busbridge, who before retirement was head of music at Cheltenham College, has brought together friends and colleagues to give a charity concert that will include J.S.Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No.1, which I have never heard in live performance since the days, long gone, when I played the bassoon part in an amateur ensemble, of more enthusiasm than ability. Gordon's musicians will be using modern instruments, but it is good to know that live music is back.
23 January 2024
Insomnia afflicts many people in old age. But it has benefits. Last night, at 4 o'clock, I was reading again from the beautifully bound letters of Mendelssohn, translated by Lady Wallace in 1863. She did well.
During similar nocturnal readings I had read of his journey to Italy; of his wonderful time in balmy air at Ischia and Capri; his hugely enjoyable music making with Madame Erdmann (playing mostly Beethoven) and his friendly meeting with Mozart's son in Milan. But in these last nights' readings he is journeying north through Switzerland when the pleasure of the scenery is lost through relentless heavy rain [in August]. The rain continues, monstrous floods ensue, but he has sent his baggage onward to Interlachen so he is forced to wade through streams and clamber over fallen rocks to get there, only to find that they could not or would not give him a room. So he turns about, and treks back to Unterseen.
But there he is happy. The floods slowly subside, leaving broken bridges, and the remains of houses floating down the muddy streams. But in Unterseen he is given a room with a little old piano, dated 1794, and there, waiting for better days he composes songs that he hopes his sisters will like. The piano he does not despise. 'Though seven and thirty years old, it has plenty of good things in it.' He wanted some music paper to write on, and 'they referred me to their Pastor, and he to the Forest Ranger, whose daughter gave me two neat sheets.'
When the weather relented he left Unterseen to continue his travels, but not before giving to the Forest Ranger's daughter three little dances he had composed for her, on the little 1794 piano. I hope she treasured them. What would someone not give for these manuscripts today?
15 January 2024
In Paris in 1791 there were many empty houses – such was the fear among the wealthy that it was only wise to get out and take refuge elsewhere. Furniture, valuable books and musical instruments were left behind. Who knows what would happen if you were seen to be packing up and taking everything with you in the nightmare world of the Terrour.
I can't say that I ever discovered who it was that first suggested the idea of confiscating the abandoned musical instruments – the excuse being that these valuable instruments would form the basis of a collection for the proposed National Academy – which, of course, never happened. As Hubbard reported long ago, many fine harpsichords were burned for firewood some years later.
A professional violinist, Antonio Bruni, was deputed in 1791 to enter the empty houses of those who were condemned in the savage justice of the times, or who had fled, and his lists make a fascinating study. He was expert in assessing the violins he found, but rather out of his depth when putting a value on keyboard instruments. There were few houses that had neither a piano or a harpsichord; many had both.
Madame Marie Leopoldine-Monique, otherwise Princess Kinsky, left behind a piano-organ combination instrument of recent manufacture [1788], by Adam Beyer of London — painted white, if you please! Ownership of an organised square piano was, it appears, not unusual among wealthy Parisians. There was another example by Adam Beyer, dated 1775; a Zumpe & Buntebart of 1771; and two very recently made examples from Erard [1790 and 1791]. It is an imponderable question whether these instruments were prized as status symbols, or truly enjoyed for the musical pleasure of the two sonorities in combination. This is a rare experience in modern times. I have often heard a grand piano and a church organ played together to accompany a choir, in which what you gain from the piano is simply a rhythmic emphasis, rather like the part played by a chittarone or bass lute in many baroque ensembles these days. But I suspect that Zumpe, Beyer, Pohlman and others aimed instead at a very different result - having the 8 foot flute tone supporting the square piano.
If you would care to see and hear something of this kind, here is a link to a YouTube video showing the Joseph Merlin organized piano of 1784. It is the one we last saw at the Colt sale in Bethersden, recommissioned. Though there may be limitations to this offering in terms of recording quality, a more sophisticated recording is promised to follow.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfHBA7uogjo
[The demonstration/performance begins with J. C. Bach, around 35 minutes in.]
My thanks to Chris Nobbs.
4 January 2024
Rain in England has been relentless during the autumn. Water butts overflow. Drains cannot cope. And rivers have burst their banks. Tewkesbury, for example, has been recently cut off by road in every direction. It's not a good time to be working on musical instruments, unless you can afford to keep dehumidifiers running 24 hours.
This reminds me of the sadly neglected harpsichord in Warwick, the only remaining instrument by Herman Tabel. To view it I had to make an appointment, months in advance, and when the waiting time was over, make my way to a council depot on the outskirts of the town. Here they keep all sorts of awkward or unwanted items, for example, bags of soil from archeological sites, and museum exhibits that are not currently displayed. The museums' town centre building has been refurbished, but they do not have sufficient display space. So, musical instruments that featured so prominently in the 1960s, when they had additional space in St. John's House, on the Leamingon side of town, were withdrawn from view when that supplementary space was wanted for something else. In former times I recall visiting to see the Tabel harpsichord and seeing incidentally the exquisitely inlaid lute from Hamburg – both items that were bought for Warwick Museum when a former curator (long gone) was enthused about early music. [See Michael's Blog for 2017, 17 May]
Raymond Russell (The Harpsichord & Clavichord) and Frank Hubbard (Three Centuries of Harpsichord Making), the two most important books on this subject, give very inadequate attention to Tabel. So it is sad that this unique instrument has not been on display for decades, and doubly disappointing to discover that it has been removed to this wretched depot, where there is no possible means of controlling the conditions, and worse still, to see a metal bucket nearby to catch the rainwater coming through the leaking roof.
Such inadequate stewardship is commonplace these days, I find, when museum curators are under pressure to provide exhibitions suited to children, and families, with hands-on gadgets, and interactive displays. Important and rare items have to be removed to off-site storage. A better outcome for Tabel's harpsichord would surely be to put it back through the auction rooms, where hopefully another museum could acquire it, preferably in Britain, or perhaps in Amsterdam, where the maker was in trade before he came to London.
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