Giant Stories:
A Musical Interlude
(Tuneful notes on Wellington’s heritage)
While Wellington’s literary accomplishments have put the town on a world stage for several centuries, it has an interesting musical lineage, too. From Victorian-era Church Music to Beatlemania and Glam Rock, this little corner of east Shropshire has featured in the lives of diverse composers, musicians and acolytes.
A Star Is Born
Reverend John Eyton’s appointment as Vicar in 1802 proved to be a watershed moment in Wellington’s literary story. The powerful preacher’s profile was such that his sermons provided local printers with a basis upon which to establish the town’s reputation as a centre of provincial publishing. Furthermore, the sheer volume of work at All Saints parish church necessitated the employment of an assistant curate, which drew more distant admirers from the evangelical cause to his side, adding another dimension to the town’s legacy. One man who answered the call was Henry Gauntlett, who arrived in 1804 for a short stay that lasted little more than a year. A noted theologian, he would eventually become a published author in his own right. So far as the town’s cultural heritage is concerned, however, his most notable Wellington-based achievement was the birth of his son Henry John in July 1805 — who was baptised at All Saints a few weeks later.
Acoustical Acquaintances
The young Henry would establish a reputation as a precociously talented organist but would bow to family pressure to train as a lawyer, and was for many years restricted to practicing as an amateur musician. In fact, he was only able to pursue music as a full-time career following the award of a Lambeth Doctorate in 1843, and set about building an enviable reputation as one of the nineteenth century’s most prolific hymn writers. His credits include Irby (better known as the music to Once in Royal David’s City) and the original version of Onwards, Christian Soldiers. In 1872 he would also compose a piece dedicated to his hometown, simply entitled Wellington. Gauntlett was also much in demand as an organist, and in 1846 played in the first performance of Felix Mendelsohn’s Elijah at Birmingham Town Hall. The great composer was in no doubt of his abilities, declaring:
“His literary attainments, his knowledge of the history of music, his acquaintance with acoustical law, his marvellous memory, his philosophical turn of mind as well as practical experience – these render him one of the most remarkable professors of the age.”
The young Henry would establish a reputation as a precociously talented organist but would bow to family pressure to train as a lawyer, and was for many years restricted to practicing as an amateur musician. In fact, he was only able to pursue music as a full-time career following the award of a Lambeth Doctorate in 1843, and set about building an enviable reputation as one of the nineteenth century’s most prolific hymn writers. His credits include Irby (better known as the music to Once in Royal David’s City) and the original version of Onwards, Christian Soldiers. In 1872 he would also compose a piece dedicated to his hometown, simply entitled Wellington. Gauntlett was also much in demand as an organist, and in 1846 played in the first performance of Felix Mendelsohn’s Elijah at Birmingham Town Hall. The great composer was in no doubt of his abilities, declaring:
“His literary attainments, his knowledge of the history of music, his acquaintance with acoustical law, his marvellous memory, his philosophical turn of mind as well as practical experience – these render him one of the most remarkable professors of the age.”
Gauntlett was inspired by Mendelsohn’s recitals of Bach’s organ music to begin a progressive crusade to redesign the English church organ on a continental system of operation. His evangelical zeal (very much in tune with Wellington’s own!) and notoriously thin-skinned character did not endear him to all, and he would achieve only mixed results. However, as the Victorian-era unfolded another Wellingtonian was busy establishing his own prodigious reputation as a skilled player, educator and composer.
The Rolling Thunder Review
Samuel Corbett was the son of a local ironmonger and lost his sight within just a few months of his birth in 1852. He would spend seven years studying music at the Royal Institute for the Blind in Birmingham before returning to Wellington, aged just 15, to become organist and choir master at Christ Church. Building on his academic success, Corbett would gain a Doctorate in Music from St John’s, Cambridge in 1879 — becoming the first blind person to do so. His career as an educator would eventually lead him across the country, and, as Professor of Music at the Midland Institute for the Blind in Nottingham, he would later devise a system of musical notation akin to Braille.
As a composer of light music tunes, his local routes were certainly in evidence in titles such as The Wrekin Polka (1870) and Captain Webb, The Channel Swimmer (1876). In April 1879, he returned to Wellington to officially open the new Bevington and Son church organ at All Saints — which is still in situ today. Corbett’s stellar performance was reviewed within the pages of the parish magazine and gave “full proof of the superior talent and proficiency in music which had recently gained for him a distinguished degree at Cambridge University.” In fact, so overcrowded was the event, the maestro was called back to give a second ‘grand recital’ two weeks later where, according to the magazine, his “wonderful control” caused the instrument to reverberate “with the thrilling representation of rolling thunder.”
The Rolling Thunder Review
Samuel Corbett was the son of a local ironmonger and lost his sight within just a few months of his birth in 1852. He would spend seven years studying music at the Royal Institute for the Blind in Birmingham before returning to Wellington, aged just 15, to become an organist and choirmaster at Christ Church. Building on his academic success, Corbett would gain a Doctorate in Music from St John’s, Cambridge in 1879 — becoming the first blind person to do so. His career as an educator would eventually lead him across the country, and, as Professor of Music at the Midland Institute for the Blind in Nottingham, he would later devise a system of musical notation akin to Braille.
As a composer of light music tunes, his local routes were certainly in evidence in titles such as The Wrekin Polka (1870) and Captain Webb, The Channel Swimmer (1876). In April 1879, he returned to Wellington to officially open the new Bevington and Son church organ at All Saints — which is still in situ today. Corbett’s stellar performance was reviewed within the pages of the parish magazine and gave “full proof of the superior talent and proficiency in music which had recently gained for him a distinguished degree at Cambridge University.” In fact, so overcrowded was the event, the maestro was called back to give a second ‘grand recital’ two weeks later where, according to the magazine, his “wonderful control” caused the instrument to reverberate “with the thrilling representation of rolling thunder.”
Fleeting Connections
In the twentieth century, Wellington’s record of musical attainment would prove equally interesting and varied, as birthplace of improvisational musician and film composer Steve Beresford, and home to members of ‘80s chart-topping band T’Pau. At Wrekin College, Brian Epstein’s two-year term of academic underachievement would propel him headlong into the family business and, indirectly, fame as manager of The Beatles. Across town, in Church Street, words and music would make an even more fleeting connection at the offices of the Wellington Journal and Shrewsbury News, Shropshire’s leading newspaper of the period.
In the late 1950s, a young cub reporter arrived at the weekly publication en route to finding fame as part of the Glam Rock movement. Ian Hunter, leader of Mott the Hoople, would only hold down the post (one of about forty jobs he later estimated!) for relatively short period, citing his lack of skill at shorthand as a contributing factor to his all-too-brief tenure in the role. One of the many “mundane tasks” Hunter was asked to perform (which included reporting on Shrewsbury Town reserves games!), was having to visit the Reverend AT Agnew for the weekly church news. “I hated doing that because he was a bachelor who had 32 cats and his place bloody stank to high heaven.” His position with the ‘paper lasted for around three months!
Fleeting Connections
In the twentieth century, Wellington’s record of musical attainment would prove equally interesting and varied, as birthplace of improvisational musician and film composer Steve Beresford, and home to members of ‘80s chart-topping band T’Pau. At Wrekin College, Brian Epstein’s two-year term of academic underachievement would propel him headlong into the family business and, indirectly, fame as manager of The Beatles. Across town, in Church Street, words and music would make an even more fleeting connection at the offices of the Wellington Journal and Shrewsbury News, Shropshire’s leading newspaper of the period.
In the late 1950s, a young cub reporter arrived at the weekly publication en route to finding fame as part of the Glam Rock movement. Ian Hunter, leader of Mott the Hoople, would only hold down the post (one of about forty jobs he later estimated!) for relatively short period, citing his lack of skill at shorthand as a contributing factor to his all-too-brief tenure in the role. One of the many “mundane tasks” Hunter was asked to perform (which included reporting on Shrewsbury Town reserves games!), was having to visit the Reverend AT Agnew for the weekly church news. “I hated doing that because he was a bachelor who had 32 cats and his place bloody stank to high heaven.” His position with the ‘paper lasted for around three months!