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We all admire the ‘Classical’ pianos that were made in south Germany and Austria in the last quarter of the eighteenth century, and most of us would like to own one. The first one that I was fortunate enough to play, many years ago, was this lovely Heilmann in the Colt Collection.

The nearest I got to owning an original example of this type was when such a piano (with no maker’s name) appeared in a Piano Auctions sale in 2004. This piano was in a poor state, having been discovered in a cellar in London, together with a Sedan chair and other items – the sort of things we all accumulate over the years. Its estimate was £500. I joined the bidding for a while, but realised that the action was getting too hot for me. It was knocked down for £4000. However, its lack of a soundboard did provide a unique opportunity for the amateur enthusiast to examine, measure, and photograph the internal structure. (The Welmar sign went for £80 as a separate lot).
At this point I should again record my debt to Piano Auctions, Bonhams, and other auction houses for their understanding and tolerance of enthusiasts like me. The auction viewings provide unrepeatable opportunities to examine and record historic instruments like these.

Together with the excellent plan of a Lengerer piano drawn by Christopher Nobbs, these data provided an excellent starting point for the amateur builder. In most respects the Lengerer resembles the pianos of J.A. Stein, but I had to deviate from the plan, of course: I preferred a ‘square’ tail – but I did retain the same internal structure to provide the same active soundboard profile as the Lengerer. (This design is very similar to the ‘Piano Auctions’ piano.) Additionally, I strengthened the wrestplank area by a yoke, as used by Walter, and replaced the wooden gap brace of the Lengerer by an I-shaped iron piece.
The main structure is pine; much of what I used was scaffolding planks. By law, these have to be strong and free from defects. The timber merchant I got them from had had them in stock for some time, and was happy to be rid of them, but this suited me fine, as they were well-seasoned! South German makers usually built the visible parts of their piano cases from walnut or cherry; mahogany was not easily available in that part of the world. Some twenty years ago, I had bought a very large cherry tree directly from a timber yard, and this stock was nicely seasoned.

The structure of the base is something of a hybrid, based on about six pianos of this type plus a bit of engineering logic… the triangulated braces are knocked tightly into position, and should provide good torsional rigidity without excess weight.

The soundboard is a copy of the Lengerer – the five short bars are relieved underneath the bridge

Lack of space is something of a problem for me – there are five other pianos partly visible in this picture, as well as the nameboard of a sixth! I hope that my efforts may encourage others who do not have the advantage of a large workshop.

The action is entirely conventional, with wooden kapsels and cloth bushing just tight enough to prevent the hammers bouncing too much. All of the action parts are made of pear-wood, except the hammers themselves, which are lime (graduated from 10mm wide bass to 4mm treble). The coverings are vegetable-tanned goatskin (two layers in the bass) over harder brown leather. The originals in the Lengerer were probably bare wood, but this was a bit too much (or should I say too little) for me! The keyboard is made of lime, and the natural coverings are ebony. The sharps are ebony, topped with ivory recycled from an old upright.
I know that the lead tail-weight will be controversial! Fear not, the touch is not heavy. The balance weight is about ten grams, which means that an old British ha’penny placed on the key-head will prevent its return. Without these weights, the action would not work at all. And the weights are only about six grams, so it could be worse! True, most originals managed without tail-weights, but my hammers are quite light, and the ebony tops quite chunky. Yes, I did undercut the key-heads, but not severely.

Here we see the all the strings and action fitted, but not the dampers. These form an entirely separate unit, which can be lifted out in one piece. Because the action is supported by the usual ‘sled’, this can also be removed quickly without disturbing the dampers. In this picture, the front part has been polished (shellac followed by beeswax) but the rest is unfinished – as it will be until summer!

As work proceeded, I was fortunate enough to have the support of an assistant. Here we see the floating panels of the solid lid being checked for fit. The damper-cover is in place in this picture, but not the music-desk yet.

And here, set up with the candle-boards extended. We can also just about see that the lid-fold is unconventional: instead of the front (fall) portion folding back flat towards the tail of the instrument, this one has a ‘concertina’ fold. This is sheer necessity – the authentic fold would take up too much room, and mean that I couldn’t squeeze past to reach the spinet, the Houston, or the Clementi!

As I mentioned earlier, I can’t finish the lid (and the polishing) until the good weather arrives and I can take it outside. In the meantime, the tuning is settling down nicely, the whole thing is completely stable, and I enjoy the sound it makes. I don’t really know much about Viennese Pianos (“Nor anything else!” I hear your cry) but our very good Friend Tom Strange from South Carolina writes:

“If it’s sounding a bit reedy, then I think you’ve hit on an authentic sound there.... The best understanding of an authentic sound is a rich nasal sort of expression, that seems more dynamic than you would think, but of course never approaches the din from a modern grand. The treble should be very clear and sweet though short in resonance, the tenor robust and slightly edgy, the bass clear and raspy.”

Certainly I have had a lot of fun, and learnt a lot as well. Purists may object that this is not a faithful copy of any historic original, but there again, all the old makers had their little ways. And this is my piano! I do hope that my efforts will encourage others to ‘have a go’. If anyone has any questions at all, I will be delighted to help if I can.

A Friend has suggested that a few pointers to suppliers of ‘hard-to-find’ items may be helpful.

Some of these are easy – the strings (red brass, yellow brass and iron) are from Malcolm Rose*. The vegetable-tanned goatskin hammer-coverings are from Harmaton Leathers, Higham Ferrers, Northamptonshire. (The same goat provided the hammer-coverings for my Clementi.) I actually made the main hinges, and the nameplate surround was a redundant ‘0’ from a door-number, but David Law* can supply many lovely items of brassware, including his lovely tuning -hammers. The tuning pins I made myself, from 4” iron nails. This is lots of fun: they look ‘real’ (not too perfect) and are very cheap. And bashing the red-hot iron is very satisfying.

Perhaps, though, for the ‘kitchen table’ builder, the biggest problem may be getting timber (whether pine, cherry, or whatever) tamed and finished to manageable sizes. I have a nice saw and a planer/thicknesser, but these cost very much less than a piano... However, if you just have nowhere to put such things, I do understand. Is there a small woodworker (shed-builder? kitchen fitter?) near to you that could do these jobs on a cash basis? Or is there a Friend (in the right part of the world) who could help?

Please ask if you are stuck for any other bits & pieces! If I don’t know the answer, we will put out an appeal on the website. That’s what Friends are for.