Michael's Blog
10 April 2026
Was there ever a more stark warning? Hobby restorations of historic instruments nearly always end in disaster. I have seen so many. But this surely is the most regrettable - bordering on tragic. On a day trip to Birmingham in 2022, I was able to examine what I hoped would be a splendid piano by Schoene & Vinsen, with superb decorative embellishment added circa 1905 when it passed through the hands of George Frederick Dean in London. How beautiful it is! How pretty, and how convincing the improvements done by the self-effacing artist.
It is such a pity we do not know her name. At least, we do not know for sure. I have suggested that the artist was Lizzie Dean, the life and business partner of George Frederick. The evidence is slender. She was enrolled as an art student in the 1890s [before marriage] but there is no way of pinning this work on her, as indeed was always the intention. Dr. Mathias Wit, my highly-valued German correspondent whose expert knowledge of painted square pianos from Paris is second to none, points out that if her signature cannot be found on any of these pianos, my attribution is pure speculation. But, of course, the whole performance is intended to be anonymous.
Unhappily, long after 'Anon' added her flowers and vignettes, someone decided to transform what the Deans sold as a purely decorative piece into a fully-functioning musical instrument. The broken soundboard came out, to be replaced with a glaringly modern one. The skimpy 5mm tuning pins that Schoene supplied were replaced with 6mm square-headed zither pins. The delicate mouldings around the soundboard were replaced with what looks like handyman moulding strips from a local hardware shop. And, I guess, not long after, the seismic pressure that caused the old soundboard to crack, then erupted in a yawning fissure at the right, opened into an unwelcome 'smile' where the outer case meets the baseboard. To remedy this it will be necessary to scrap the soundboard, and begin again, but not before securing the structural defects. Oh, I almost forgot, there is also the matter of the missing pedals, three I suspect, replaced by clumsy modern knee-levers.
It's a lovely decorator's piece, and an intriguing musical anomaly, with its 18th-century aesthetics and additional notes in the treble, but it seems there will not be a happy ending. At its first appearance in Fellow's Auction rooms it made a surprisingly good price. But then, when the buyer had time to think it through, it was sold again in the same rooms at only half the price. What will happen this time? Half again is my guess — but we will see what results on Monday next.
4 April 2026
A message from Sam Lawrence, son of Alastair: The funeral of his father, Alastair Lawrence, is scheduled for 8th April, at St. Hilda's Church, Whitby, at 12.15pm. His health, as I know, was in decline in recent years.
As CEO of John Broadwood & Sons, Alastair has lived near Whitby for many years. He was a much liked and respected jazz pianist and has the distinction of being fined £200 by the police for attracting a crowd when he played [busking style] in York during the so-called COVID pandemic in 2021. Alastair showed them his printed permit to play music in public but after wavering awhile, the police fined him anyway. Alastair also held a doctorate from York for his study of the development of the English Grand Piano.
My first encounter with Alastair was many decades ago at Finchcocks in Kent. Later he lived in Norway where he assured me so enthusiastically that the air is so clean. So it was a surprise when he returned to live in England. Contact with him was sometimes difficult as he resolutely declined to embrace the internet or have an email address – but late night phone calls from him were frequently about my book 'Broadwood Square Pianos' which he often recommended to his clients. R.I.P. Alastair!
31 March 2026
Disappointment: I have now heard from Yale Univ. Press. My hope (and my expectation) was that they would be happy to publish 'Harpsichords, Pianos & People', but they have declined. 'It is too specialized' for their lists, I am told. Yale, I thought, was very suitable because two illustrations, not superfluous but central to the text, come from Yale's Paul Mellon Collection of British Art, and moreover, Yale's Morris Steinert Collection owns the world's least modified Ruckers harpsichord in playable condition – which I intend to use as an illustration. [Long ago Thomas Twyning, vicar of Colchester, was frustrated that he could not sell it at any price. 18 guineas was all he wanted, but in those times no one wanted an old-fashioned harpsichord!]
Cambridge and Yale have both turned me down. In such a situation, rejected authors are prone to wonder 'If I had supplied a different sample chapter, would it have been better received?' But I sent what I thought would most appeal to them. So, they have seen/read 'Buying a Harpsichord', a chapter which features George Romney's magnificent double portrait of Lord Thurlow's daughters and their Kirckman harpsichord, plus an analysis of the procedure by which it was acquired -- How Thurlow deputed a third party to buy it, dismissing the spinet on which his girls had previously played, chosen by their music teacher. Yet, Thurlow knew nothing about music himself! My chapter continues with the procedure by which so many other harpsichords were bought, a procedure that was so open to corrupt practices, as contemporaries well knew, (giving a gratuity to players who would demonstrate and recommend instruments), which in turn led to so many counterfeit instruments (notably Robert Falkener's pseudo-Kirckman harpsichords). Thereafter, we move on to the gender issue, whereby 'Gentlemen' purchased the instruments, though it was the wife or daughter played. The actual player was rarely consulted. Ah, well, too specialized!
Now I have to decide – do I proceed with publication under the 'Tatchley Books' brand? Do I just abandon five years' work? Or do I put it before one of two academic publishers where I have been promised a better reception? What is to be done? I recall Rosamond Harding's note concerning 'An Anatomy of Inspiration' [her best selling book] — 'it was rejected by six London publishers and I was about to throw it away,' she wrote. But she saved up, and published it herself, with the help of 'Mr. Heffer'.
Many people have contributed over the last six or seven years – John Watson, Chris Nobbs, Prof. J. John of Miami, and many others – it would be criminal to let their contributions sink into the silent pit. So perhaps the only honourable procedure would be to see it through the press myself. When publishing 'Broadwood Square Pianos' in 2006 I knew it to be too specialized for a commercial publisher, but the whole print run of 500 is now sold, with some over-run copies too, and some people have been kind enough to say how much they enjoyed it, and learnt something.
Perhaps I should put a list of contents on this website ... and solicit your opinions? And then there is the matter of quantities. A print run of 500 might sell slowly and leave unsold stock for someone else to deal with.
16 March 2026
From time to time I hear Bach's Prelude No.1 in C. It came up again last week, unsolicited, on YouTube, performed as usual on a grand piano of modern manufacture. But whenever I hear it, a very different experience springs to mind. This occurred in the home of Alan Legg in the little Cotswold village of Somerford. He was showing me several 18th-century square pianos that he thought I might buy from him, as he had by then given up his antiques shop in Cirencester. The cause of his retirement was the aggravating onset of Parkinson's Desease. His hands would be shaking involuntarily, a humiliating and vexatious affliction.
It was on that occasion, and only on that day, that he showed me in another room a dainty little clavichord he made himself, some years earlier. It was an attractive instrument, in pale mahogany with (as I remember) green hareswood inlay edged with boxwood. When I asked if he played it recently, he responded with that Bach prelude spontaneously, and without any hesitation, which was very gratifying. He played the whole of it without fault, and what was most pleasing, the affliction of Parkinson's disappeared, as if it had never been. Of course, it started again once he finished the music.
I have heard that people with a stammer or speech impediment experience similar freedom when singing.
25 February 2026
A very presentable square piano by Frederick Beck, 1787, to be sold by auction in Toulouse, features an extravagant music desk in the form of a centre-folding lid, a form that is rarely seen. I presume it is original. If so, it is the earliest example of this design that I have seen. The auction house gives no pictures of the interior, but the outside is certainly attractive as a decorative item. Beck, who sold a great quantity of pianos to Parisian clients, much of it through Pacal Taskin, continues to surprise me with the innovative variety of his designs. At Margaret Debenham's suggestion, she and I compiled a paper on his life and work, a few years ago, prompted by his joint project with the famous Swedish inlay specialist Christopher Furlohg — a commode with a square piano inside, that is now in the Lady Lever Art Gallery at Port Sunlight.
In the process, that is to say, while researching and writing that paper, many surprises came to light, including clear evidence that the strange, cabriole legs under the 'First Fleet Piano' in Australia, that I thought looked spurious, were not so unusual after all, as there are at least three surviving specimens of Beck's pianos resting on such stands. But it was a fashion that led nowhere. Whereas the fashion for classically fluted conical legs in Louis XVI style endured well into the 19th-century.
A good early example is seen under the Erard square piano below, to be offered in the same auction sale at Marc Labarbe's Saleroom in Toulouse next month. 
This Toulouse auction has a very pretty Erard square piano dated 1783, with extraordinary decorative appeal. Undoubtedly a genuine early example of Erard's work, it has not survived without regrettable interventions. The soundboard is a replacement, from many years ago, and the external paintwork, attractive as it may seem, is likely to date from the late nineteenth or early twentieth century. The vendor bought this piano in 1969 from antiques dealer Paul Labatut in St Germaine [Paris] along with a reputed provenance in which it was originally a gift from Marie Antoinette to an untraceable Duke. Antiues dealers have so many stories!
Maybe the auctioneer is realistic when he estimates about 3000 euros. We'll see. The keys, by the way, were most likely upset by heavy-handed porters, putting it down on a hard floor -- they can be put to rights in five minutes.
My thanks to Dr. Mattias Witt for drawing this instrument to my attention.
8 February 2026
On a dreary winter morning about 220 people began their weekend with a fun musical event in Cheltenham. For many it was their first encounter with a Broadwood square piano. Many said as they left, "What a great way to spend Saturday morning!"
Beethoven is not famous for Scottish folk songs, but his contribution to Thomson Scots Musical Museum provided some of the music, including his ludicrously classical settings of Auld Lang Syne and Highland Laddie. Everyone went home smiling. Of course, some lingered a while to ask questions of the players and peer inside this weirdly unfamiliar instrument. If your prior experience of Haydn's trios is confined to Steinway pianos or recordings by the Beaux Arts Trio, today's quietly-spoken rendition was something of a culture shock!
3 February 2026
Saturday sees an unusual event.
A square piano played in a public concert is rare enough, but to hear and see one in a small ensemble? Well the last time I saw that was in Leominster, several years ago, and it was obvious sitting among strangers, they liked it. The music was Haydn's – the so-called Gipsy Rondo trio. You rarely see people at a concert so deeply attentive.
So, I mention this in advance in case anyone reading this Blog lives near enough, and is interested enough to take advantage of it. The venue is St Philip & St James, Cheltenham: Saturday morning. 10.30 for coffee and cake, music from 11 to 12 o'clock. The piano is the one showing here. Broadwood 1818. Not one of his best, but good enough for this purpose. In addition to the Haydn trio, I am advised that we will hear Beethoven at his most ludicrous – giving his version of Scottish folksongs – to end with Auld Lang Syne — as Beethoven imagined it.
29 January 2026
So, the Oxford sale went much as expected. How many bidders were able to squeeze into Mallams saleroom I do not know. But some lots were sold to 'room bidders'.
The triple portrait I have previously described, awkwardly composed, and much the worse for want of attention, was taken well beyond £5000, meaning that to take it away the lucky winner must stump up more than six thousand pounds. The only justification can be a special interest in the persons shown. As an 18th-century painting, of some size, it does not impress. And, as I mentioned, it is such a disappointing likeness of Esther.
Having an ex-library copy of Burney's History here (rebound in recent times, but entirely secure) which has good paper, and all its contents where they should be, I was gratified to see Mallams copy reach £1600 (well over two thousand pounds to take away). Many years ago its binding was gaudily extravagant, but is now badly rubbed. Like several other books in this sale it had a possibly authentic inscription as 'from the author'. An impressive number of items of interest to Fanny Burney's fans were keenly contested, Evelina, and her other novels, plus her well-known portrait by Reynolds, half length, but said to be a copy. It made almost four thousand pounds [hammer price]. If I had not a copy of Charles Burney's Tour through France and Italy I would certainly have bid for Mallams' offering, a tidy first edition, that surprised me by making less than a hundred pounds. For anyone interested in 18th-century music, it is such pleasant and informative reading – an object you would treasure for a lifetime.
26 January 2026
The Oxford Union is perhaps the university's most famous appendage – a forum where some of the ablest students have an opportunity to hone their debating skills. A praiseworthy initiative when it was founded by students in 1825; inevitably, in recent times this has attracted some notoriety for the 'post-colonialist' and neo-Marxist opinions expressed by its youthful participants. But they are young: there's time. Many readers may recall with amusement, as I do, Thomas Sowell's laughing confession that he was a convinced Marxist for many years, as a young man!
Groups of visiting tourists (of which there are many) mingling with Saturday shoppers in the city centre rarely venture down one of the less-inviting side streets, where the Oxford Union building can be found. Almost directly opposite we find Mallams, a long-established auction house that maintains a toehold in the city. Their rooms are small — quite the opposite of Mallams' Abingdon premises. So, for their forthcoming 'Library Sale', they have stuffed in as much as possible. Throw in a modest number of prospective bidders, viewing the offerings, as I was, and it seems quickly congested. One of the larger items on view, and unmissable in the room, is the large triple portrait showing Richard Burney (dancing master), his son Charles Rouseau Burney (musician) and at some sort of keyboard, Esther, Charles Burney's eldest daughter – an outstanding but forgotten pianist. It's clearly not by a professional artist. It's awkward. It's poorly designed. And, what I regret most, it shows an utter want of skill in the likeness of Esther – the 'artist' clearly has no better understanding of human anatomy than Cassandra Austen (who drew the only likeness we have of her famous sister, distorted as it is). On English bank notes we see one of many attempts to give a more credible rendering of Jane's appearance.
Literature there exists in abundance in Mallams. Dozens of books by or about Fanny Burney (Esther's sister); a complete copy of Burney's History, in an extravagant binding; and manuscript collections of family papers. All of this leads me to conclude that these items have been sitting in Oxford for more than half a century, in private ownership. I guess they will attract some institutional interest – and maybe that is a good outcome. At least future scholars will know of their existence, and have access.
A short distance away, the Ashmolean Museum is always worth a visit. My attention is so overwhelmed that after an hour examining so many displays my brain is reeling from this overload of information. On route to see the Pre-Raphaelite paintings (which never disappoint) you must pass the magnificent Kirckman harpsichord of 1772. Readers who have followed this Blog for soe time will know that there used to be free concerts featuring this instrument, but on asking the room attendants I find that they haven't had one in several years.
20 January 2026
She was always overlooked by later comers, who wrote so many books about Charles Burney and his family. Percy Scholes wrote endlessly about The Great Doctor Burney, two volumes (Oxford, 1948), full of often wayward prose that we easily forgive, on account of his very evident enthusiasm for his subject. Annie Raine Ellis [followed by many others] put a lifetime's effort into documenting every last detail about the life of Burney's second daughter, Frances (alias Fanny, and later Madame D'Arblay) – novelist, diarist, and some time attendant to Queen Charlotte. There is also an edition of the letters and diaries of Susan Burney (the third daughter), which I have been unable to find anywhere. But the eldest? Esther? She was so much more admired in her lifetime: her amazing talent as a musician was always praised. When she appears in modern texts it is most often as the piano player [using a Zumpe square] who played the duet by Müthel, the other part being taken by her husband on the harpsichord. They played it twice for guests (by request) in a private concert in St Martin's Street in 1775. And again at Streatham for Mrs. Thrale and her guests.
In fact she played all the latest music from the best composers of the era, with such great dexterity and expression that her sisters, and indeed everyone fortunate enough to hear her, thought Esther's playing beyond anything they ever heard from any other player - including the famous Jane Guest.
But Esther never played in professional concerts, and never published any music of her own. So, she is virtually ignored by modern anthologists. What an unsatisfactory outcome! Her father whose opinion everyone seemed to respect, wrote to a friend: 'she was a better player at seven, than I was at seventeen.'
The picture here is the only known image of her, and soon it is to be sold by public auction. I will report back when I have examined it.
11 January 2026
Saturday's concert was well attended, and as I was stationed by the exit, to collect donations, many people said how much they enjoyed the music.
Here you see three of the five players — they were joined by two violins for the full ensemble.
The format of these coffee concerts provides a useful template that might be successful elsewhere. The audience profile is important to establish. From the photos that show the listeners you can see that they are predominantly senior citizens, and to attract them you should recognise that a morning concert, with a chance to have a chat with friends over coffee, is very much preferable to a commitment to an evening outing. The music lasts about 60 minutes. And the repertoire is not too challenging. Perhaps surprisingly, the decision to give free admission (all receipts being donations at the entry or exit, or at the coffee counter) does not produce a financial disaster. The venue requires a substantial sum, booked far in advance; professional players are paid for their services; yet the residue is always enough to plan the next event. Recent attendances average about 160 to 200. We can just about cope. We put out extra seats if necessary. Only once was the attendance too much for us.
Of course, this format would not work in remote rural locations. However, in Cheltenham there is, as you might guess, a demographic that includes a large percentage of older residents, and we draw a much valued cohort from Cotswold villages who, having tried one of these Saturday morning events, return often.
The other factor worth considering is that, with free admission, and a relatively short programme, young families often come – not many yesterday, but they do come often. An interesting comment from one senior lady as she was leaving: 'What's wrong with teachers today? When I was learning the violin my teacher always encouraged us to go and hear professional players.' She's so right! How useful such experience is to aspiring musicians.
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