Peter Horton

SAMUEL SEBASTIAN WESLEY AT LEEDS:
A VICTORIAN CHURCH MUSICIAN
REFLECTS ON HIS CRAFT

“I HAVE MUCH PLEASURE IN WRITING THIS, THOUGH MY OPINION CAN ADD but little weight to the universal consent of all musicians in England, that Dr. W. is the first among us, both for extraordinary talent, and for unwearied diligence in improving that talent to the utmost. He is not only the finest organ-player that we have, but also a most accomplished musician.”¹ With these words (written in November 1841), Thomas Attwood Walmisley, professor of Music in the University of Cambridge, extolled the merits of his fellow organist and composer, Samuel Sebastian Wesley. Wesley was then 31, having been born in London as the first of seven children of an irregular union between Samuel Wesley, a composer and organist, and his housekeeper Sarah Suter. Named after his father’s musical idol, Johann Sebastian Bach, he received his early musical training as a chorister in the Chapel Royal, leaving in 1826 when his voice broke to embark upon a career as a professional musician. During the next six years he held several organists’ posts in the capital, besides assisting with the musical direction of the English Opera Company and trying his hand at composition, so that by the time he received his first major appointment — as cathedral organist at Hereford in 1832 — he had acquired a thorough knowledge of music. Until his death in 1876 he pursued the career of a provincial cathedral organist, and he gained an enviable reputation as the country’s foremost organist and church composer.²

Despite the success he achieved, Wesley never found life easy. Born into a family in which the “one consistent thing . . . was mentality, often rising to genius,”³ he could be extremely difficult to deal with, although capable of showing great kindness to pupils and close friends. Both at Hereford and later Exeter (where he moved in 1835) he was often at loggerheads with the cathedral authorities and by the early 1840s was anxious both to escape from the cloistered environment of a cathedral close and to bring public attention to bear upon the poor state of music in the cathedrals. Such an opportunity appeared upon the death in May 1841 of John Thomson, leaving vacant the Reid Professorship of Music in the University of Edinburgh. Wesley applied for the post, supported by an array of testimonials, including Walmisley’s glowing reference. His application was unsuccessful, but another opportunity had already arisen: the offer of the post of organist at the newly rebuilt parish church in Leeds where, only a few weeks earlier (on 18 October), he had “opened” the new organ. As Wesley’s pupil William Spark recorded, “he was so much impressed with the wealth of Leeds, and delighted to be asked by two rich merchants to select grand Broadwood pianofortes for them, that bearing in mind his disagreement with Dean Lowe at Exeter, he forthwith accepted from the vicar and church wardens the offer of organist at £200 per annum, guaranteed for ten years.”⁴

Wesley’s problems at Hereford and Exeter had undoubtedly been partly of his own making, and his own often fractious behaviour was ill calculated to endear him to his superiors. Nevertheless, as he wrote later, the cathedral authorities were themselves not blameless:⁵

Painful and dangerous is the position of a young musician who, after acquiring great knowledge of his art in the Metropolis, joins a country Cathedral. At first he can scarcely believe that the mass of error and inferiority in which he has to participate is habitual and irremediable. He thinks he will reform matters, gently, and without giving offence; but he soon discovers that it is his approbation and not his advice that is needed. The Choir is “the best in England,” (such being the belief at most Cathedrals,) and if he give trouble in his attempts at improvement, he would be, by some Chapters, at once voted a person with whom they “cannot go on smoothly,” and “a bore.” The old man knows how to tolerate error, and even profit by it; but in youth, the love of truth is innate and absorbing.⁶

Having now escaped from such circumstances he was able to criticize them without immediately jeopardizing his own career, and during his stay in Leeds he published two essays and an extended pamphlet on the reform of cathedral music, besides giving a series of lectures on Choral Music which covered much of the same ground.⁷ The notes used in the preparation of the last also give a fascinating insight into his thoughts on the role of music in the church service and the form it should take.⁸ Before proceeding to examine these writings, and in particular the vision of the cathedral service that inspired his work, a glance at the unique choral establishment at Leeds Parish Church and the man responsible for it, Walter Farquhar Hook, will help to set the scene.

Hook had been appointed vicar of Leeds in 1837 and on arrival found himself in charge of a vast parish encompassing both the town and much of the suburbs, and served by fifteen churches. The population had risen from 53,162 in 1801 to 123,393 in 1831 and was still increasing.⁹ During the course of his ministry he was responsible for a large church-building programme and the subdivision of the parish, but his initial concern was with the Parish Church — a much altered medieval building — and in particular with the improvement of its internal arrangements to accord with his own moderate High Church views. Work started in 1838 but the whole structure was soon found to be unsafe and the obvious course was to demolish it and rebuild. Demolition began immediately and the new church was consecrated on 2 September 1841.

It was not only the building that Hook had found to be in poor condition. The choir (one of the earliest to be robed in the North of England) was equally run down, “the surplices in rags, and the service books in tatters” (DNB, IX, 1171). Determined that this state of affairs should be improved, he campaigned for — and against vigorous opposition achieved — the increase in the church rate needed to maintain the choir. A far more important development, however, took place early in 1841 as the new church neared completion: “A number of Churchmen [now] waited upon the Vicar (Dr. Hook), and requested that he would permit Choral Service to be daily performed after its consecration. This was gladly acceded to by the Vicar, who promised his utmost support, so long as funds could be provided to sustain the choir in such a state of efficiency that the services should be performed complete in all their perfection and beauty.”¹⁰ Hook recorded his progress in February 1841: “I am now fully occupied in preparing to form a choir, a subject on which I am profoundly ignorant; but John Jebb has kindly assisted me. . . . How I shall raise the money I know not; but this I know, a good choir must be formed. . . . My whole heart is set on this business.”¹¹

The Reverend John Jebb to whom he had turned for advice was a nephew of his former mentor, Bishop Jebb of Limerick, and himself a prebendary of the cathedral there. He was also one of the foremost advocates of the “cathedral” service. Its alternative, the model established by Frederick Oakeley at All Saints’, Margaret Street (and favoured by the Tractarians) was based on the idea of congregational participation in the musical portions; Jebb would have none of this and the “cathedral” model was therefore adopted at Leeds. By way of preparing the ground, Hook also commissioned Jebb to give a series of Three Lectures on the Choral Service of the Church of England at the Leeds Church Institute.¹² These were subsequently published and, according to the Parish Choir, circulated widely and “greatly contributed to promote a strong feeling in favour of the Choral Service” (“Church Music,” 3, 148).

On Jebb’s advice Hook had appointed a new choir master, James Hill, to superintend the establishment of choral services, but the organist at the old church, Henry Smith, initially continued in office and played at the consecration. For the inauguration of the new organ, however, a better-known player was wanted and, probably at the instigation of Martin Cawood (a wealthy ironmaster and amateur musician), Wesley was engaged. His subsequent appointment marked the final achievements of Hook’s ambition: not only had he succeeded in establishing a choir which was already the equal of most cathedral ones, but he had also attracted the country’s leading organist and church musician. The general satisfaction felt at this achievement is evident from reports in the local press: “We have hitherto abstained from mentioning that Samuel Sebastian Wesley, Esq., Mus. Doc., and now organist of the Cathedral, Exeter, had accepted the situation of organist and composer of this splendid church . . . [and] we cannot but congratulate our readers on the high acquisition which music will receive from having so distinguished a professional gentleman to reside in our town.”¹³

Wesley’s move to Leeds was a major turning point in his career. The attractions were obvious: only one daily service, no clerical interference (from a precentor) in directing the music, and a very generous salary. The choir, too, was well-trained and clearly left a favourable impression (as Hook reported): “Dr. Wesley says that our service is most sublime: beyond anything he ever heard in any cathedral” (Stephens, II, 134-135). Indeed, the realization that a higher standard of music could be achieved in a new church in a Northern industrial town than in one of the time-hallowed cathedrals must have strengthened Wesley’s determination to draw public attention to the fact that, as he wrote, “the musical arrangements at cathedrals are susceptible of infinite improvement” (Wesley, Selection, p. 2).

Two recent developments — the rise of the Oxford Movement and the establishment of the Ecclesiastical Commissioners — had both served to bring ecclesiastical matters before a much wider public than hitherto. Established in 1835 in the wake of the Reform Bill, the Commissioners were specifically instructed “to consider the state of the several Cathedral and Collegiate Churches in England and Wales with reference to ecclesiastical duties and revenues,” a task which naturally included a review of their musical arrangements.¹⁴ They found that the relative positions (and salaries) of the cathedral clergy and other officers had changed radically since the time of their foundation. The dean of St. Paul’s was also bishop of Llandaff and had a total income of £8624; the minor canons and lay clerks who formed the choir received an average of £32 and £21 respectively, plus a share of the “Cupola money” paid by the public to see the building.¹⁵ St. Paul’s was by no means atypical. At many other cathedrals endowments originally intended for supporting the choir and music had been diverted to the chapter coffers. Where “Cupola” (or “Tomb money” as it was called at Westminster Abbey) was not available, another solution was to offer the minor canons livings near the cathedral and free them from their statutory duty to be present at all services. Neither the low salaries nor the absenteeism of the minor canons promoted efficiency: at Hereford Cathedral (where all the adult members of the choir were in holy orders) there arose the situation for which Wesley wrote his well known anthem “Blessed be the God and Father”: “This Anthem was written for an occasion (Easter day) when only Trebles and a single Bass Voice were available.”¹⁶

In those cathedrals where the choir was composed of both minor canons and lay clerks, the former had frequently ceased to take an active part in the singing and merely intoned the responses and collects. Such a situation inevitably led from bad to worse. Not only was the choir now depleted, but as the minor canons came to do less, so less was expected of them, and it was by no means unknown for totally unmusical persons to be appointed to vacancies.

This state of affairs had developed gradually over the past two centuries. Now, with reform in the air, it was finally judged to be intolerable. The Commissioners’ proposals, however, met with little favour from musicians because their effect was to legalize many existing abuses. Thus it was that the bishop of London could state: “It is not our intention to tax the musical powers of the Minor Canons,” and thereby officially sanction their present non-choral role ([Taylor], p. 60). Endowments were not to be returned to choirs but included in the general redistribution of income. As Wesley himself wrote, “a very strong probability exists, that Cathedral property will be taken away for objects in which Cathedral localities have but a remote, if any, interest, such as the building of Clergymen’s houses, and the erection of school buildings, in far distant places” (Wesley, A Few Words, p. 76).

The publication of the Commissioners’ first four reports the following year immediately prompted one musician, H. J. Gauntlett, to enter the debate with a series of trenchant articles which highlighted the poor treatment accorded to cathedral music and musicians as well as the unsatisfactory nature of their proposals.¹⁷ The time was clearly ripe for a concerted attack on the attitudes (largely clerical) which had led to such a state of affairs.

It is clear from his notes that Wesley knew Gauntlett’s articles and was influenced by these and the similar publications of Edward Taylor and Jebb.¹⁸ Although approaching it from different positions — Taylor as a professional (but not church) musician and Jebb as a cathedral dignitary — both stressed the historical aspect of the subject and went to considerable lengths to underpin their arguments with documentary evidence. Indeed, both devoted considerable space to an attack on what they saw as the spoliation of the cathedrals by the Ecclesiastical Commissioners. After referring to cathedral statutes Taylor continues: “These tell us what Cathedral Music was designed to be, and what it was, — the evidence of our own senses will tell us what it is, — and the Ecclesiastical Commissioners’ Reports, and above all their Bill, clearly indicate its future fate” ([Taylor], p. iv).

Like Jebb and Taylor, Wesley based his argument for the improvement of cathedral music on a comparison of what it was intended to be and what it actually was. Because he was a composer, however, historical matters were much less important to him than an appeal to the emotions. This appeal is expressed most clearly in the notes he prepared for his lectures:

Now should we not say if it is decidedly that music should be employed in our worship of the Divinity, that it is our duty to see that the best efforts and those alone, are devoted to an object which is perhaps among the most important it ever falls to the task [of] humanity to execute, must we not agree in the principle that whatever forms a part of our National worship should be the best of its kind. That our Architecture, our music and all the details of religious establishments as well as the more important matters of our liturgy itself should possess a degree of merit and excellence unattained to in things designed merely for our own uses and gratifications, that they should be the most cared for, the objects of our highest and wisest and most enduring [endeavour].

(Lcm MS 2141f, f. 48).

Indeed, his thoughts on the subject center in his vision of the Anglican cathedral service as the pinnacle of an art form:

That I prefer the Choral Service of the church to any other public mode of worship whatever . . . I do most [blank] assert. I admire its pervading feature that of separating in its offices everything which might tend to remind the congregation of the earthiness of its ministering servants, all of whom appear in garments unlike those of their common use, while almost everything uttered is unlike the ordinary language of mankind. Language, and that only of the most exalted character and connected with music of the most simple and I do not hesitate to say . . . of the most sublime character, [means that] the individuality of the ministering servants scarcely anywhere appears. Its object had been to command the attention of congregations to heavenly things, the sermon is an innovation — originally it formed no part of the Choral Service but was delivered outside the Choir, sometimes indeed outside the Church, the views of it projectors being of a higher character than to sanction man’s individuality as an integral part of the creature’s worship of the Creator. . . . The object of man’s assembling thus was to address God, not to be addressed by man, to have their thoughts by the magnificent effects of architecture and music more effectively wrested from common pursuits bringing all heaven before their eyes to use the words of Milton.

(Lcm MS, 2141f, f.7).

Something of the same idea is to be found in Jebb’s lectures: “In the constitution of her Choirs, the Church of England has made the nearest possible approach to a primitive and heavenly pattern. Her white robed companies of men and boys, stationed at each side of her Chancels, midway between the Porch and the Altar, stand daily ministering the service of prayer and thanks-giving. The whole idea and arrangement is beautiful and holy” (Jebb, Three Lectures, p. 18).

There can be little doubt that Wesley’s surroundings at Leeds Parish Church played a part in shaping his vision of the ideal choral service. The combination of a handsome gothic building, a service conducted with a degree of reverence and solemnity unknown in most cathedrals, and an eloquent sermon certainly produced a strong effect on a contemporary visitor:

The service was conducted according to the strict letter of the rubric, and with a fervor and solemnity of manner, which gave it a proud pre-eminence over those similar establishments where the pure and beautiful language and formularies of the Protestant church are sacrificed to the rapid and careless manner of the officiating priests, who seem not to feel what they utter; who appear to discharge their duty for a salary, and are indifferent how it be done, so it be got through. . . . The prayer for the church militant, the absolution, the consecration of the sacred elements, and the administration of the Holy Sacrament, were all said and performed with becoming solemnity. . . . We had never previously seen or heard the services of the English Church so impressively conducted; and we left that house of God fully impressed with the conviction, that the influence of the example here set would rapidly effect wondrous changes in the manners, habits, and religious opinions of British society, from which manifold blessings, spiritual and temporal, will inevitably follow.

(Leeds Intelligencer, 14 October 1843, p. 7).

To Wesley the choral service lay outside the sphere of everyday things, thereby allowing one to escape from the harsh realities of the world. In so conceiving it he revealed one of the most important facets of his personality, a strong attachment to the ideals of Romanticism. Church music, he wrote, “bends the mind to devotion, removes all impression of mere sublunary things, and brings home to man an overwhelming sense of his own insignificance and the majesty of the Eternal” (Wesley, A Few Words, p. 45). This union between the music, language, and architecture in the service of religion is a theme which recurs many times in his writings. Yet as he was only too painfully aware, the weak link in this partnership was invariably music. Choirs were depleted, inefficient, and even more importantly lacked good music — especially contemporary — to sing. Having therefore described the ideal choral service, he now proceeded to outline his views on the types of music, both ancient and modern, that should be employed. His words here have an especial interest because they not only reflect his interest as a composer in the contributions of past generations, but they can also be compared directly with the music known to have been in use at Leeds.

Like most contemporary musicians he subscribed to the belief that music was steadily moving towards a state of perfection, and in consequence he viewed condescendingly the works of earlier periods as the products of composers “fettered . . . by the deficiencies of imperfect art” (Wesley, Service in E, p. iii). Antiquity alone was insufficient to commend a work; it must also possess that feature which to him mattered above all others, expression. Certain short late sixteenth or early seventeenth century anthems passed the test, among them Richard Farrant’s “Call to remembrance” and “Hide not thou thy face from us,” but few service settings were worthy of performance. Most suffered from the “same jog-trot emphasis . . . from the first word to the last, let the sentiment be what it may” (Wesley, Service in E, p. iv). Among later composers Wesley praised Henry Purcell, Maurice Greene, and William Boyce, and anthems by all three regularly appeared in the service lists at the Parish Church.¹⁹ Contemporary English composers, however, receive no mention in his writings and the only recent works known to have been in use at Leeds are three anthems by Thomas Attwood (d. 1838), two by William Crotch (d. 1847) and the Evening Service in B flat by Walmisley (1845). In contrast the Leeds anthem book contained at least six works by Mozart, Beethoven and “the pure and beautiful SPOHR,” his favourite composer (Wesley, Service in E, p. vii). It was to them that he looked for musical salvation, and his own works certainly reflect the qualities he sought; many years later he referred to “the manner in which the words are expressed” as being one of his main achievements:²⁰ “Since the greatest works of the best German writers — Bach, Handel, Mozart, and others, have dawned upon us, no musician of eminence has devoted his time to the preparation of church music which might to some extent embody and exhibit the finest qualities observable in the works of these great and immortal men, particularly as regards that most important feature in vocal composition, expression, fashioned, of course, in a church garb” (Wesley, Selection, p. 2).

Words had always meant a great deal to Wesley, and it was his fortune to be able to marry them to music which enhanced their power. Much thought clearly went into the preparation of his texts. Verses from many different sources — the Old and New Testaments, the Book of Common Prayer and Paradise Lost — are frequently juxtaposed and then rearranged to give the exact meaning he wanted. Small changes — often no more than the omission of a word or two — abound, but invariably improve the verbal rhythm or correct the accentuation and by so doing help create that blend of words and music so important to him. Indeed, much of the success of Wesley’s music lies in the fact that he possessed such an instinctive feel for word setting, and this, coupled with his strong religious bent, gives his most inspired passages their exceptional emotional power. His thoughts on the subject are clearly expressed in the preface to the Service in E: “The subjects to be treated are so various, of such grand and universal application, — as necessarily to divest composition of its ordinary features; rendering almost every species of amplification of a particular subject either difficult or impossible; and this, too, in connection with words which seem, in the musician’s judgement, to demand of him the most exalted efforts of which his art is capable” (p. i).

Word painting as such held little appeal for him, but the relationship between words and music had clearly exercised his thoughts: “Purcell and Handel [were] wrong about to thee all angels. My Father also (to some little extent) about He hath put down the mighty; it is our business to sing of his praise of his having done these things not to describe by music our own little notions of the means employed by God in doing them. . . . Father’s service exalted the humble, (novel and charming).”²¹ Through the resources of melody, harmony, and vocal and instrumental scoring, music was the ultimate means of expressing his emotions, and it is always the musical, not the verbal, element which is dominant. Within a few years of Wesley’s writing these words, however, his music underwent substantial changes of both form and style, changes which are also reflected in his writings.

Hitherto Wesley had concentrated almost exclusively on verse or full-with-verse anthems consisting of a succession of separate movements (or sections) scored for full choir, various combinations of verse (solo) ensemble, and solo voices, and lasting for up to twenty minutes in performance.²² All had included substantial solo arias — movements which rank among the finest of their type — and in many cases obbligato organ parts as well, and each had been written in a thoroughly contemporary idiom. From henceforth arias are most notable by their absence and the organ parts much less independent. What prompted this change of heart is not clear, but when taken in conjunction with Wesley’s own words on the subject, it becomes clear that a significant change had taken place:

Solo singing in the Church, I confess, I do [not] think should be much encouraged. I do not think it should be absolutely prohibited, but the portions of the service set apart for music are meant to be the voice of the people, and altho’ perhaps our music should not altogether be restricted to chorus, still I think the Solo should be a rare exception, and in almost every instance so mixed with chorus that the individuality of the singer may not attract that attention to himself which belongs to the sense of the words, and for a higher purpose.²³

It is perhaps not entirely coincidental that Jebb held similar views: “And besides, [in the performance of full anthems] . . . there is less room for that personal exhibition to which the more modern compositions so largely administer. Disregard of self is one of the chief moral characteristics of Catholic Christianity: and the sinking of the individual in the ministerial office should always be borne in mind in Christian worship” (Jebb, Three Lectures, p. 27). Nor should it be forgotten that Hook, too, would probably have supported this view and might have discouraged the use of solo anthems.

Of one thing, however, there can be no doubt: the most important anthems written at Leeds (“Cast me not away” and “The face of the Lord”) are both in a radically different style from their predecessors. The contrast becomes even more apparent when it is remembered that they were written in 1848, only four years after the completion of the other major work of the Leeds years, the Service in E. Completed at the instigation of Martin Cawood (who paid Wesley for the copyright), the Service in E is in the composer’s most expansive style and includes an important organ part. Its combination of dramatic choral writing, a vivid, up-to-date harmonic vocabulary, and an independent accompaniment make it one of the landmarks in the development of the form.

The anthems (and the evening canticles of the Chant Service in F written two or three years earlier) are far more restrained. In all three the organ does little more than double the voice parts or provide harmonic support for a unison vocal line. The change in musical style is even more pronounced. Largely turning his back on those influences which had coloured his earlier works, Wesley now revealed a new debt to Gregorian chant (in the Chant Service) and the vocal works of the late Renaissance. It is surely not coincidental that this transition took place around 1844-46, the period in which he was most actively involved in the study of earlier music, particularly for his Liverpool lectures.

Despite his deliberate use of an archaically inspired idiom, Wesley never allowed his own voice to become submerged, and thereby avoided the artistically dead pseudo-antique style he had earlier condemned. Indeed, by combining contemporary harmony with “word-setting and vocal texture . . . not inferior to some of the best work of Byrd or Morley,”²⁴ he achieved in “Cast me not away” a wholly satisfying synthesis of ancient and modern. The style of the anthems, however, was destined to be short lived. Within a year of their first performances Wesley had left Leeds for the more traditional surroundings of Winchester Cathedral where, two years later, he returned to a form he had neglected for the past decade, the extended full-with-verse anthem.²⁵ “Ascribe unto the Lord” (1851) and its successors, “By the word of the Lord” (1854), “Praise the Lord, O my soul” (1861), and “Give the King thy judgements” (1863), inhabit a different world from “Cast me not away,” a world as different as Winchester Cathedral is from Leeds Parish Church.

Why Wesley should have done this remains a mystery, and one can only assume that he considered the two Leeds anthems to be experimental works and chose not to pursue that line of development further. The musical language of “Ascribe unto the Lord” and the other later anthems sits firmly in the mid-nineteenth century tradition he had previously cultivated, although two Leeds features did have a lasting influence: the abandonment of the solo aria and (with a few exceptions) the avoidance of elaborate organ parts. All in all there is no reason to doubt that his views on these two subjects had undergone a fundamental change.

In retrospect, therefore, the years Wesley had spent at Leeds can be seen to form a watershed in his career. He had gone there full of energy and enthusiasm, glad to escape from Exeter; he left seven-and-a-half-years later regretting his move. Paradoxically he was then even more securely established as the country’s leading church musician, but his career as composer had already passed its peak: “I was earning a fine income [at Exeter] & loved the County of Devon but I packt up, I gave up all — & much it was — & went to Leeds . There — attached as I am to nature, to Scenery, fine Air, & all the advantages of the Country, & disappointed as I was with Dr. Hook & his powers to either aid his Church Music or me — I soon bitterly repented of leaving Exeter & when this place was vacant I offered for it & was elected.”²⁶ Perhaps his most important achievement, however, was to set down his views on church music and, by bringing them before a wider public, at least partly achieve his goal:

Let us indulge a hope that the claims of this subject will find support, and that its merits will be better understood. Amongst the dignitaries of the Church are several distinguished persons who are fully alive to the high interests of music, and who do not forget that whatever is offered to God should be as faultless as man can make it. Music should not be compelled to bring her worst gift to the altar! Is it too much to ask of them some public effort in support of Cathedral Music? . . .

If the effect of these pages should happily be, in any way, to contribute to so desirable a result, the writer will have cause to rejoice.

(Wesley, A Few Words, p. 75).

Several factors had contributed to this achievement. Wesley had gone to Leeds dissatisfied with the state of music in cathedrals and already turning his attention to its reform. By a happy quirk of fate, the writings of Jebb and Taylor appeared shortly after this and provided an additional stimulus, while the invitation to lecture at Liverpool gave a further outlet for his thoughts. Above all, however, the practical experience of working in Leeds Parish Church had shown him what could be achieved given a good choir and music. From an amalgam of all these influences Wesley’s own vision of the choral service, the practical proposals for its improvement, gradually emerged.²⁷ Behind these lay his guiding principle that music was an art of equal value and importance to the visual arts, and that the church musician was first and foremost an artist in the service of religion: “The principles of Music are of no narrow and limited application: they belong not merely to one country or nation, or even to one world, but are universal and natural: surely then we are warranted in affirming that the good which might here be done should be done for Music’s own sake, and in humble imitation of that example of perfect accuracy and order displayed in all His works, by the incomprehensibly Great Author of all things.”²⁸

____________________

¹ J . T. Lightwood, “ S. S. Wesley — A Sad Story,” Choir and Musical Journal, 32 (1941), 117.

² For biographical information on Wesley, readers should consult Paul Chappell’s full-length study Dr. S. S. Wesley, 1810-1876: Portrait of a Victorian Musician (Great Wakering: MayhewMcCrimmon, 1977), or Betty Matthews’s brief survey, Samuel Sebastian Wesley 1810-1876: A Centenary Memoir (Bournemouth: Kenneth Mummery, 1976). Nicholas Temperley has provided a critical assessment of the composer in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 20 vols. (London: Macmillan, 1980) and of his church music in the chapter “Cathedral Music” in The Romantic Age 1800-1914, ed. Nicholas Temperley, Vol. 5 of The Athlone History of Music in Britain (London: Athlone Press, 1981). Watkins Shaw writes perceptively of Wesley’s character and achievement in “Samuel Sebastian Wesley (d. 19 April 1876): Prolegomenon to an Imagined Book” (English Church Music, 1976, 22-30). The history of English church music is covered by J. S. Bumpus in A History of English Cathedral Music, 2 vols. (London: T. Werner Laurie, 1908; rpt. ed., Farnborough: Gregg mternational, 1972) and, more critically, by E. H. Fellowes in English Cathedral Music, 5th ed. rev. by J. A. Westrup (London: Methuen, 1969).

³ Ernest Ford, “The Wesleys,” Monthly Musical Record, 47 (1917), 152.

⁴ William Spark, Musical Reminiscences (London: Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent & Co., 1892), p. 166.

⁵ For a discussion on the general state of cathedral choirs readers should consult Paul Barrett’s article “English Cathedral Choirs in the Nineteenth Century,” Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 25 (1974), 15-37. The Organists and Composers of S. Paul’s Cathedral (London: Bowden, Hudson, 1891) by J. S. Bumpus also contains much of general interest as the situation at St. Paul’s was by no means atypical.

⁶ S. S. Wesley, A Few Words on Cathedral Music and the Musical System of the Church (London: F. & J. Rivington, 1849), pp. 11-12.

⁷ Wesley prefaced both the second edition of A Selection of Psalm Tunes (London: R. Cocks & Co., 1842) and A Morning & Evening Cathedral Service (London: Chappell, 1845, henceforth referred to as the Service in E) with essays on the reform of cathedral music, while A Few Words on Cathedral Music and the Musical System of the Church is devoted to the subject. In the early months of 1844 he gave a series of lectures on Choral Music at the Liverpool Collegiate Institution.

⁸ Although A Few Words has been the subject of critical comment, less attention has been paid to the two prefaces and none to the lecture notes (preserved in Royal College of Music [Lcm] MS 2141f). Neither has any attempt hitherto been made to relate changes of style in Wesley’s music to his written views on the subject.

⁹ Dictionary of National Biography, 22 vols. (London: Smith, Elder & Co., 1903), IX, 1171.

¹⁰ Anon., “Church Music in Leeds,” Parish Choir, 3 (1850), 148.

¹¹ W. R. W. Stephens, The Life and Letters of Walter Farquhar Hook, 2 vols. (London: Richard Bentley & Son, 1878), II, 125.

¹² John Jebb, Three Lectures on the Choral Service of the Church of England (London: J. G. F. & J. Rivington, 1841).

¹³ Leeds lntelligencer, 1 January 1842, p. 5.

¹⁴ [Edward Taylor], The English Cathedral Service, its Glory, — its Decline, and its Designed Extinction (London: Simpkin, Marshall, 1845), p. 37.

¹⁵ H. J. Gauntlett, “The Musical Profession; and the Means of its Advancement Considered,” Musical World, 3 (1836), 211-212.

¹⁶ S. S. Wesley, Blessed be the God and Father (London: Hall, Virtue and Co., 1862), p. 1.

¹⁷ H. J. Gauntlett, “ The Musical Profession; and the Means of its Advancement Considered,” Musical World, 3 (1836), 129-135, 161-167, 193-198, 209-213; 4 (1837), 33-40.

¹⁸ In addition to Three Lectures Jebb also published The Choral Service of the United Church of England and Ireland (London: john W . Parker, 1843).

¹⁹ From 1846 the Leeds Intelligencer published the weekly service lists.

²⁰ British Museum MS Add. 35019, f. 124.

²¹ Lcm MS 2141f, f. 2. The works by Henry Purcell and G. F. Handel here referred to are settings of the Te Deum. While their precise identification is impossible, it is probable that Wesley had in mind Purcell’s festal Te Deum in D major, and Handel’s Utrecht Te Deum. In the latter work the words “To thee all angels cry aloud” are allocated to a pair of alto voices in an obvious attempt at simple word-painting. The reference to Samuel Wesley is to the Magnificat from his Service in F in which word-painting is again employed: that Samuel Sebastian had himself done the same in his Service in E (around 1843-44) reveals the extent to which his views on the subject had changed.

²² The terms full, full-with-verse and verse anthem are here used as follows: a full anthem is scored for full choir throughout; a full-with-verse anthem opens and closes with movements for full choir but includes movements for solo voices or verse ensemble; a verse anthem opens with a movement for solo voice or verse ensemble.

²³ Lcm MS 2l4lf, f. 18 v. 25 r. Wesley’s omission of ‘ not’ from the first sentence is apparent from his original wording: “Solo singing in the Church I confess, I am not desirous to see promoted.”

²⁴ Arthur Hutchings, Church Music in the Nineteenth Century (London: Herbert Jenkins, 1967), p. 103.

²⁵ For an account of Wesley’s time at Winchester see Alan Rannie, The Story of Music at Winchester College 1349-1969 (Winchester: P. and G. Wells, 1970).

²⁶ Royal School of Church Music manuscript album of autograph letters, f. 40.

²⁷ In the course of this article no attempt has been made to examine the practical proposals that Wesley made for the improvement of choirs and the training of musicians. A discussion of these may be fom-id in Peter Horton, “ The Music of Samuel Sebastian Wesley (1810-1876)” (D. Phil. thesis, Magdalen College, Oxford, 1983)

²⁸ S. S. Wesley, Reply to the Inquiries of the Cathedral Commissioners, Relative to Improvements in the Music of Divine Worship (London: Piper, Stephenson and Spence, 1854), p. 8.