Herbert Howells
Sermon, Jesus College, Cambridge, 14th May 2017.
Voluntary: Tranquillo, ma con moto from Six Short Pieces (Howells), Introit: Salvator Mundi (Howells), Responses: Rose, Psalm: 147, Canticles: The St Paul’s Service, Anthem: Seek him that maketh the seven stars, Voluntary: Flourish for an Occasion (Harris)
Readings: Isaiah 40:21-31, 2 Corinthians 4:1-12
In the name of the Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Amen.
If you’ve even circled on the outskirts of English Choral music you will have come across Herbert Howells. I guess in Jesus College Chapel, I am, as it were ‘preaching to the choir’, in this regard.
It is his music that every chorister wants to sing, every organist wants to play and most people want to listen to. With over twenty settings of the evensong canticles, exquisite anthems, carols, organ preludes, rhapsodies and the much loved hymn tune: Michael….. Howells is a giant of twentieth century Anglican Church music. Whenever we have Howells on the music list at Ely Cathedral, the numbers seem to increase. Could Herbert Howells music be part of our cathedral mission strategy? Why are people still drawn to his music, like moths to the light?
Herbert Norman Howells was born in Gloucestershire in 1892. His father, a plumber, was the organist at the local Baptist church, where the young Herbert would sometimes deputise. He was a child of musical promise. This lead to a move to the nearby Church of England Parish where one can only assume there was a greater musical heritage to tap into. As a chorister and organist, he was schooled in the Anglican Repertoire and tradition.
When he was 16 he became a pupil and organ scholar under Herbert Brewer at Gloucester Cathedral. It was here that Howells met Vaughan Williams, and was enraptured by his Fantasia on a theme of Thomas Tallis. His musical pedigree was enhanced at the Royal College of Music studying under Stanford, Parry and Wood. Whilst at college his output was largely orchestral, and secular, and he was tipped for great things. At the time it was said he had the potential to significantly contribute to the future of British music more than any man of his generation.
A turning point seems to have been when his second piano concerto received bad reviews in 1925. The criticism hurt Howells, damaging his confidence, and resulted in something like a creative block for a number of years.
Much of his early musical promise went into abeyance but he was nevertheless respected as a very fine teacher at the Royal College. Then in 1935 came a tragedy which shaped his life and musical output profoundly.
His nine year old son, Michael, died of polio on a family holiday- Howells found himself paralysed by grief. Stunned into musical silence. What faith he may have had, emptied itself out into nothing.
His young daughter Ursula, encouraged him to write, and channel his grief into music. From this moment there began to emerge like a green shoot from the stone cold earth, a sign of life. Though his music seems to carry death with it- it also carries a yearning for resurrection, a sign of resurrection, a sound of resurrection.
But this is not the sound of resurrection like the Hallelujah Chorus, there is no sound of trumpets raising the dead to life. This is joy restrained.
It is the sound of a resurrection something like the sound of the poignant Easter hymn, Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green. A 15th Century French Carol set in the Dorian Mode.
Similarly, Howells music also sounds the resurrection in a minor key, it is the sound of the resurrection as heard in the Gospel of Mark- which leaves the disciples confused, fearful and full of doubt with no easy answers. It is the sound of a resurrection in which Christ still bears the wounds of the nails in his hands and the spear in his side. It is the sound of a resurrection which speaks of a Father weeping over the lifeless body of his beloved son.
Howell’s association with Cambridge, as Organist of St John’s, brought him back into the world of church music, and his canvas was expanded once again by the aesthetics of Anglicanism, the college chapels and cathedrals. He was captivated by the language of their liturgy, their beauty, their sound world and the purity and power of the human voice. He was encouraged to compose again.
It is said that the most English of all his musical qualities was a remoteness- an ethereal distance. Some said this was due to his looking back to the music of the past and drawing upon tudor composers, like William Byrd and Thomas Tallis. Some think this quality was influenced by the countryside of Gloucestershire- which gave birth to an unfolding beauty, a sense of space and big skies, and a propensity to elevate to mysticism. It has been said that his music appeals to those who prefer incense to sermons -it does not evoke certainty- it does not have the upfront confidence of his mentors, Stanford, Wood and Parry.
Howell’s music is almost translucent- it’s a window into something else, seeking, searching, yearning and longing for something impossible to grasp. But at the same time there is a sensuality, an intimacy and intensity about his music, its’ rises and falls, it’s sinuous, lyrical lines climaxing and fading to nothing.
It would also be naïve to think that a figure like Herbert Howells did not embody many ambiguities within himself, as we all do. As ‘treasure in an earthen vessel’, his marital infidelities were well known, his ego delicate, and what personal faith he may have had was rocked by the death of his son. At the end of his life, in conversation with his daughter, Ursula, he stated that he was certain there was nothing beyond this.
That a self-confessed agnostic could write some of the most transcendent and ethereal 20th Century music in praise of God, is as remarkable as a light shining out of darkness, and as curious as an empty tomb.
Howells music causes the listener to lift up their eyes and wonder, waiting patiently for the Lord who will renew their strength that their spirits may soar with the wings of eagle. His genius is found in works of comparative miniature, creating music for the words of the Gospel that would be sung only in houses of prayer. How well he must have known the songs of Mary and Simeon, how much he must have poured over these texts holding each word up to the light and letting it speak through his carefully crafted notation.
The Hymnus Paradisi can possibly be thought of as his greatest choral work, and for this piece, which is regarded as a memorial to his son, he chose the texts very carefully. Some music was taken from an unfinished Requiem Mass he had been working on prior to Michael’s death, this was complimented with words from Psalm 23, The Lord is my Shepherd and 121, I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills.
The final words of this work, were chosen because Howells himself said, he wanted to end on a note of hopefulness. He was searching for a text which might fit and eventually came upon the following words from the Salisbury Diurnal,
Holy is the True Light, and passing wonderful,
lending radiance to them that endured in the heat
of conflict, from Christ they inherit a home of
unfading splendour, wherein they rejoice with
gladness evermore. Alleluia!
Woven through this and almost every other work, is what we might want to call an essence of mystical Anglicanism, a spacious and generous expression of Christianity where those who seek may find, and those who doubt are welcomed. His music often expresses a holy radiance, a passing wonderful, which does not dazzle, but rather shimmers. For a man who suffered the deepest of griefs, sounding the resurrection was never far from the shadow of the cross. His music responds honestly to God and echoes the fallibility of human existence in the light of Christ.
The music of Herbert Howells sounds a resurrection in which there is a profound and heartfelt sense that sorrow may endure for a night- but joy comes in the morning, like wheat that springeth green.
On Voice 
Leave a comment