Handel, after a long struggle, during which he had gained and lost a considerable fortune, abandoned the conflict and, forsaking Italian opera, left the country for a time to seek a restoration of his health, which had become seriously threatened. Upon his return he decided to make sacred music the medium by which he should regain both the fame and fortune which he had previously acquired. This decision, momentous as it was for the whole world, was peculiarly so for England. It had two results that may be said to be diametrically opposed, for while he soon began to make converts to music by presenting it in a religious guise, among thousands who had for long eschewed it as being anti-Christ, he, at the same time, by the sheer weight of his colossal genius, not only overwhelmed the native composer and rendered him distrustful of his powers, but imbued the people of the country with the conviction that music was not a natural English gift, and that for all serious effort in the art, it must be sought from the foreigner. That this impression became deeply engrained in the minds of Englishmen is as evident to-day as it ever was, and it is a common-place among those who cater for public entertainment, that the production of serious works by English composers spells financial loss, with one single exception. To what other cause than the lack of individuality or national genius can such a state of things be attributed? It cannot be seriously contemplated for a moment that because the composer is an Englishman his countrymen will not listen to him. The case of Arthur Sullivan proves the very contrary. His music, if not great, had English characteristics, and the public were not slow to recognise the fact. At any rate, they came to believe in him, and the reception accorded to his "Golden Legend" proved that they were not only willing, but eager to readjust previous convictions so soon as anything appeared that seemed to warrant it. Unfortunately, this work had not sufficient strength, originality, or nationality to stand the stress of time, but it disproved once and for ever the absurd contention that the English people would not accept any serious effort in music because it had been written by an Englishman. Its lack of _staying_ power seems to be attributable to the want of sufficient national character, redolent of the soil, which appears to be so essential to lasting endurance. At any rate, one cannot read without being moved the following words which appeared in the _Daily Telegraph_ after a recent performance at the Norwich Festival, 1911. They were contained in an article, not only brilliantly, but even sympathetically written, yet this is what it says:--