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7. The Parish Church Choirs

The origins of the ‘traditional’ parish church choir, clad in cassock and surplice and occupying stalls in the chancel, is nothing like as ancient as is commonly imagined. The first recorded instance of such a choir is dated 1818 when six men and six boy choristers led the worship at Leeds Parish Church. Not long after this St James’s Church at Ryde in the Isle of Wight followed suit. The model for both was the cathedral choir.

There may have been other, unrecorded examples of this innovation but they were probably few and far between. The pioneers of the Oxford Movement were not concerned with ceremonial matters, but their successors, the so-called Ritualists, were and by about 1860 surpliced choirs were widespread and not confined to churches that had embraced the revived High Church tradition. Those that had were encouraged by J. M. Neale, the medievalist and hymn writer, who believed that, since the chancel was always intended to be the place for those leading the worship, and since choirs had this role, the chancel was the place – the only place – where they ought to be. For the most part, however, the changes were a reaction against the dull west gallery singers, in their ordinary clothes and with their often casual behaviour, and were motivated by a desire that worship should be more seemly.

It was not to be expected, however, that the removal of the singers from one end of a building to the other, combined with an investment in robes, would inevitably lead to an improvement in performance. In fact the standard of music remained low, though some brave attempts were made to remedy this. The short-lived Society for Promoting Church Music (1846–51) encouraged choirs to do better and supplied its members with well-written simple music. In 1888 a Church Choir Guild was formed, with the support of Archbishop Frederick Temple of Canterbury and Sir George Elvey, the organist of St George’s Chapel, Windsor. The Victorian desire and energy for improvement had now reached this part of the church’s life and in 1905 the Guild became the Incorporated Guild of Church Musicians, expanding to include organists and others involved in the making of music. Later the prefix was dropped and by this time the Guild had embarked on an ambitious educational programme, with its own certificates and diplomas related to the leadership of worship. In 1961 it took over the administration of the Archbishop’s Certificate in Church Music and in 1988 it became ecumenical. The Church Music Society, started in 1906, also aimed to raise standards and Sydney Nicholson’s involvement in its work was one of the factors that led to the founding of what became the Royal School of Church Music.

Another initiative, which proved to be of great importance, was the founding in 1864 of the College of Organists, which was given a Royal Charter in 1893. This was the idea of Richard Limpus, the organist of St Michael’s, Cornhill, in the City of London, and had the initial aim of ‘elevating and advancing our professional status’. Although membership was not confined to church organists, most of the professional organists were employed by cathedrals and churches. As the college expanded and involvement in high-quality music increased generally, this changed, but ambitious church organists and, later, choir directors have always looked to it as an institution that upholds the highest standards and awards prestigious diplomas. Few professional organists are without the ARCO, or, more commonly, the FRCO and there is also a diploma in choral directing. The college also moved into the fields of education and training and now has links with all the major music schools in Britain. It has a busy programme of lectures and recitals, as well as an important music library, and over the years has numbered some of the most distinguished musicians among its presidents. Its influence on the standard of church music has been considerable, though the number of organists and choir directors who have obtained diplomas is relatively small.

That the college was founded by a London parish church organist is a pointer to the fact that during the latter part of the nineteenth century there were here and there, in the cities and larger towns, highly competent organists who began to work wonders with their choirs. This was particularly so in the City of London, as reported by Charles Box, a well-informed and reforming church musician who published in 1884 Church Music in the Metropolis. He included a survey of the music performed by each of the 68 churches within the City during the previous three years, based on visits (sometimes more than once) by himself and a few collaborators.

These churches, obviously, cannot be regarded as typical of those of the Church of England as a whole. Their location, number and in most cases their financial resources make them exceptional, but not quite as exceptional as they would become during the twentieth century when wartime bombing reduced their number and huge economic and social changes decimated the size of the City’s population. Today there are only 22 parishes, augmented by 12 Guild churches that do not normally have Sunday services.

The parishes of the churches surveyed all had resident populations. Most were, by modern standards, small – under 1,000 – but a significant number had 6,000 or more. A few were held in plurality, but normally each had its own rector or vicar, possibly a curate or two, and churchwardens who had civic as well as ecclesiastical responsibilities. Mattins with a sermon, followed by Ante-Communion, and Evensong and sermon, were normal every Sunday, and in a handful of churches, influenced by the Oxford Movement, there was a Sunday Eucharist. Weekday services were not uncommon.

The size of the congregations was often very small – 15 to 20 people, though there might be more on special occasions, and in a few places every seat was occupied. But virtually every church had its surpliced choir of between 12 and 20 voices – boys, men and sometimes women – who may sometimes have received a modest honorarium for their services. There were a few professional choirs and, at the other end of the scale, some churches had contingents of charity children who tried to give a lead. Every church had its organ, some of them the work of great builders, such as ‘Father’ Smith and Renatus Harris, and Box had a high opinion of the quality of the organists, whose number included Doctors of Music.

His verdict on the choirs was much less flattering, and their quality was on the whole not very high, though some were outstanding. He also complained about ‘the great variety’ of worship offered in the church, but what he describes appears today to have been remarkably uniform. The psalms and canticles were usually chanted, but professional and other competent choirs used a service setting for the canticles. Every choir, with very few exceptions, attempted an anthem (Handel was popular) with varying degrees of success. Hymns Ancient and Modern was most commonly used and some congregations were said to ‘sing with great gusto’. The prayers tended to be intoned, rather than read, by the priest, and the use of the organ before and after services was regarded as important, requiring congregational attention.

Box also ventured beyond the confines of the City to a number of other, mainly prominent, churches in Westminster, Southwark and the West End. Most of these had large congregations drawn from parishes of 10,000 people and more, and the music of the worship was virtually the same as that to be found in the City. If the result of his research is not, at least in scale, an accurate reflection of what was taking place elsewhere, it indicates a considerable change from the situation almost a century earlier when the Bishop of London, in a charge to his clergy, complained of the low standard of music in their churches, particularly in the singing of the psalms which, in most places, was the only choral music used:

In country parishes this is generally engrossed by a select band of singers, who have been taught by some itinerant master to sing in the worst manner a most wretched set of psalm tunes in three or four parts, so complex, and so totally devoid of true harmony that it is altogether impossible for any of the congregation to take part with them.

In London and Westminster this business is in a great measure confined to charity children, who, though they exert their little abilities to sing their Maker’s praises in the best manner they can, yet for want of right instruction to modulate their voices properly, almost constantly strain them to so high a pitch as to disgust and offend the ear and repel, instead of raising the devout attention of the hearers; and it is generally a contest between them and the organ which shall be the loudest and give most pain to the ear.

Significant improvement in church music generally had to await the wider renaissance in English music that began at the turn of the twentieth century, and even then the pace of progress varied considerably. Since there were upwards of 15,000 churches, most of these in rural areas, this is hardly surprising.

The report of an Archbishops’ Committee, Music in Worship, published in 1922, occupied only 55 pages but was considered valuable enough to merit reprinting, with minor amendments, in 1932, 1938 and 1947. It did not comment directly on the state of the church’s music at any of these times, but it emphasized the importance of high standards and warned against the ‘trivial’, ‘tawdry’, ‘superficial’, ‘inherently poor’, ‘small minded’ and ‘cheaply sentimental’. This suggests enough of these musical vices as to require attention. The report also emphasized the importance of good congregational singing and in order to raise standards generally made a number of proposals, including the setting up of a Central Council on Church Music, diocesan music committees, and diocesan inspectors of choirs. Less ambitious perhaps was its suggestion of choral societies, day conferences, summer schools, music competitions and hymn festivals, though none of these were widely adopted – at least for several years. Interestingly, the report recommended that ‘given the proper balance of harmony’, the old village orchestras should be reinstated to accompany the hymns, the rest of the singing to be unaccompanied. The Committee, on which Sydney Nicholson served, did however prepare the ground for the inauguration of his Royal School of Church Music which achieved most of its aims.

The next official report, the work of another Archbishops’ Committee, Music in Church (1951), indicated however that the notable efforts of Nicholson and the RSCM had borne only limited fruit. It spoke of the ‘listlessness’ of much parish worship and urged that church music should be ‘noble and restrained’ and never ‘mawkish or sentimental or suggestive of secularity’. The ‘noble language’ of the Book of Common Prayer was extolled, as if its continuing use might be under threat. On a positive note, an improvement in taste and performance was recorded, though the Commission was worried about the problems of parish choir recruitment and a marked increase in the number of professional musicians leaving church posts. In spite of the RSCM’s initiatives, lack of training facilities for church musicians remained a problem and the report ended by stressing the importance of maintaining voluntary church choirs, ‘preferably with boys’ voices’.

This proved to be much easier said than done. When the former choirmen returned from war service, few of them resumed their places in the choir stalls, and others, who were rebuilding their careers in the post-war world, found other claims on their time. The recruiting and retaining of boy choristers became even more difficult. Church schools, located in most parishes, had always been a reliable source of supply but, following a major reform of education, children moved at the age of 11 to larger state secondary schools, often several miles away from their homes. Rival attractions offered boys the choice of a range of alternative activities and school work was more demanding. Television offered greater excitement than most choir practices and after the 1950s declining congregations, combined with a wider acceptance of secular values, became a serious threat to recruitment.

In spite of all these problems, however, it was still possible in a significant number of places to retain, and even to build, a strong voluntary choir of men and boys. A local population of sufficient size to provide the requisite number of volunteers was an important factor. But even more important was the presence of a skilled, enthusiastic and imaginative organist and director of music. These could, and in many places still do, work wonders, often with no specially talented singers. The number of them, however, was also in decline and the deteriorating standard of music that resulted from the overall decline proved to be a deterrent to the recruitment of serious organists and choir members. Women and girls came increasingly to fill the vacant places and in many places to restore standards.

Meanwhile the energetic work of the Royal School of Church Music made a noticeable impact in the parishes keen enough to make use of its services. And a change of direction was required as an increasing number of parishes adopted the Eucharist as the chief act of Sunday worship. Choral Mattins disappeared very quickly and, although Evensong remained as an alternative option or a second service, it also went into decline, more slowly, yet inexorably, so that by the end of the century it was sometimes difficult to locate.

Enthusiastic choir members and those who valued tradition (usually the same people) lamented the loss of opportunity to sing the psalms and canticles, though the number of choirs that could chant them well was considerably smaller than the number of those who attempted them week by week. And the music for the Eucharist offered much less scope for a distinctive contribution by the choir, since there was a strong emphasis on simplicity and congregational participation. In some parishes questions were asked about the need for a choir at all, and there were suggestions that the presence of a robed choir might actually discourage congregations from wholehearted singing. More widely, serious questions were being raised, somewhat belatedly it might seem, about the wisdom of the church’s faith in the nineteenth-century cathedral-style of worship as the pattern for the parish churches. Might not a small group of unrobed singers, placed in the middle of the congregation, be more effective?

None of which was encouraging to the musicians, and before long another unforeseen development raised even more difficult questions. The revived Evangelical movement which started in a small way in the 1960s began to grow rapidly, so that during the closing decades of the century it spread widely in the parishes and began to exert significant influence. Its approach to worship favoured the informal and the spontaneous and placed little, if any, value on the disciplined style of the traditional choir. Moreover, its new hymns and songs were designed for accompaniment by guitars, drums and other percussion instruments rather than by the organ. Before long, questions were being raised (though not in evangelical circles) about quality, appropriateness and standards, and it was not only the ultra-traditionalist and the pessimists who spoke of ‘a losing battle’.

As early as 1970 Lionel Dakers, shortly to become a dynamic Director of the RSCM, lamented in an important book, Church Music at the Crossroads, ‘That all is not well with the music of the church is evident to most of us. It is undervalued by the demise of many parish church choirs. Those responsible for the music are often discouraged and disheartened.’ Almost a quarter of a century later, and in spite of the heroic efforts of Dakers and those he inspired to join him, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York prefaced the report of yet another Commission, In Tune with Heaven (1992), with a solemn assessment: ‘The resources of the church for producing music are under pressure, and there is evidence in some circles that standards are falling and interest diminishing.’ The distinguished Commission itself was equally realistic and reported, ‘The maintenance of a traditional choir with a repertoire of traditional church music is becoming harder by the year.’ But it also recognized, in a report that occupied 320 pages of analysis and recommendations, that ‘in some respects music in the church continues to flourish’, and it also acknowledged that the level of attainment in most cathedrals is ‘probably higher than it has ever been’.