Thank you for the music: Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all the earth:

Saturday evening in the Wheatsheaf. I'm trying not to drink too much, being on my second pint of cider, while Philip, Michael and Joshua are all at least on their third pint of old and mild. I spent most of the day either helping Michael with the pigs or Joshua getting feed and clean straw out to the sheep and the cattle. Now, as the beer starts to relax the men, they surprise me by producing instruments here at the table: Michael has a beautiful fiddle, Philip draws a tin whistle from his jacket pocket, and Joshua has a small harp, a rather celtic-looking instrument. Notwithstanding that the men are keen to begin their musical practice for the evening, I am full of questions.
Joshua is kind enough to explain that the harp has been in his family for five generations, since his great-great-grandfather brought his family to Suffolk from Betwys y coed when the family's butchery business failed. Michael's pride in his fiddle is quite evident as he unwraps it from the silk handkerchief in which it rests in its case. I am surprised to learn that it was made by his own grandfather, a cartwright known locally for his woodworking skill.

But all this is a distraction from the real purpose of the evening, which is to try out some new harmonies for Sunday's worship in the little church of King Charles the Martyr. The group expresses mixed feelings since tomorrow's service will probably be the last time the little west gallery quire will make their joyful noises since a local benefactor has bequeathed funds to the church for the installation of a barrel-organ. At least the instrument to be installed is a very fine specimen and fit for a house of God, not the typical hurdy-gurdy of the streets.

Richmond is the hymn tune the boys are rehearsing, and while I expected it to sound a bit odd in a pub, they actually get quite a crowd joining in lustily, although not singing the words John (later cardinal) Newman wrote. In fact, on Sunday morning the hymn is "My God, the spring of all my joys" by Isaac Watts, and when the quire begins to sing, (and play), to my surprise, the congregations turns their backs to the altar to literally "face the music" where Joshua is conducting on the tiny gallery.

For the completion of my account, I must credit my colleagues who have spent more time in the later Georgian and early Victorian eras. It seems that at some time in the mid-nineteenth century the leadership of the Anglican church felt that the church was in danger of becoming too romanized, too frothy and fancy, and not serious enough about the worship of God. The so-called Oxford Movement led to a simplification of the music, and dogmatic changes in search of a renewed holiness within the church. Sadly, many of the musicians that had once made up gallery quires were either persuaded that their music was unnecessarily elaborate, or otherwise felt unwelcome, and so sought the communion of more evangelical churches.