The work, however, is too well-known to call for any lengthened description. Suffice it to say that it is more consistent than the majority of his larger compositions can be said to be, since it keeps on a high level plane throughout. In this respect his earlier dramatic cantata, "The Martyr of Antioch," while possessing some splendid numbers--among the finest he ever wrote--is strangely lacking. He wrote only two avowed oratorios, "The Prodigal Son" and "The Light of the World," but it cannot be said that they had anything more than a temporary success, and they certainly cannot compare with either "The Golden Legend" or "The Martyr of Antioch" in originality or effect. They contain music, no doubt, that many would like to have composed, but they are altogether lacking in that power which compels, and which these works undeniably possess. The production of "The Golden Legend" not only enhanced Sullivan's already great prestige, but marked him, without question, as the foremost British composer of the day. For years its popularity seemed to be quite inexhaustible, and if to-day there are found British composers working on a higher plane, and this cannot be questioned, there is, equally, no doubt that it not only marked an important stage in his own career, but in the reputation of England as a musical nation. As an instance of the interest it aroused in the country, it may be mentioned that Sir Charles Hall['e], at whose Manchester concerts the appearance of works by British composers was, to say the least, infrequent, found it necessary, in order to meet the demands of his subscribers, to issue an announcement of its early production. He, further, invited Sir Arthur Sullivan to conduct it, and so great was the demand for seats that a second performance was found necessary to meet the call. For many years oratorio has been the favourite medium of expression by British composers. To George Frederick Handel we must look for the origin of this evident fact. From the time of William Boyce, his contemporary, through the line of Samuel Wesley, Dr. Crotch and other distinguished British musicians, down to the mid-nineteenth century, we trace the progress, and over it all, is the fatal influence of imitation. Indeed, this feature became an obsession over their minds, to such a degree, that until quite recent years, students were taught in all the English schools of music to regard the technique of composition rather as the end in view, than as the medium by which they could express any original thought that might be in them. It is certain that even thirty years ago this was a definite and soul-destroying fact. Such prizes as were at the disposition of the schools of music, were invariably awarded to the student who displayed the greatest facility in illustrating the rules of the pundit, rather than to the one who evinced any trace of original thinking.