The word ‘pre-Reformation’ is almost sufficiently sweeping and spacious to provoke hasty calculations about the true bulk and vastness of the unseen part, the submerged part of the English musical iceberg. As a nation, we are certainly insular; the greater part of our traditions lies beneath the surface; and we often refer in terms of icy contempt to the noble efforts of our musical forefathers, who were intent upon outstripping their continental rivals. Writers on early organ music are frequently out of sympathy with, and consequently unkind to, our English composers. Gabrieli and Titelouze are lauded to the loft, if not to the skies; while the works of our hempen homespuns—Allwood, Burton, Coxsun, Farrant, Kyrton, Preston, Redford, Rhys, Shelbye, Shepherd, Strowger, Tallis, Taverner, Thorne, and Wynslate—are passed over with scarcely a mention. The reason is not hard to seek.

May I ask you to consider with me some questions such as these:—Whether, historically, musicians and listeners, have known what they wanted acoustically and have made demands upon, and modelled, a building type. Or whether conversely an existing building has been the deciding factor? Whether we are now in a historical era quite different from the past and ought to make clear acoustic demands? And if so what demands? And what degree of consent have we on the present musical situation and its vital needs?

My purpose this afternoon is to trace the development of the three-movement symphony-overture in England during the eighteenth century, as composed by English composers and not by visiting foreigners, whose works will only be mentioned in so far as they contribute to our knowledge of the native style. I use the hyphenated expression ‘symphony-overture’ advisedly, as its two component terms were completely interchangeable throughout the whole period under review; both signified a piece of music, usually for a full band of players, which could be performed either before or during a theatrical representation, or as a separate item in a concert. Both words had long been familiar in this country; ‘symphony,’ a word of Greek derivation, seems to have been the older in English usage, although more familiar as a term referring to various instruments of the hurdy-gurdy class than to any specific kind of music.

Bedecke deinen Himmel, Zeus,
Mit Wolkendunst,
Und übe, dem Knaben gleich,
Der Disteln köpft
An Eichen dich und Bergeshöhn;
Musst mir meine Erde
Doch lassen stehen,
Und meine Hütte, die du nicht gebaut,
Und meinen Herd,
Um dessen Glut
Du mien beneidest.

Ich kenne nichts Ärmeres
Unter der Sonn', als euch, Götter!
Ihr nähret kümmerlich
Von Opfersteuem
Und Gebetshauch
Eure MajestÄt,
Und darbtet, wÄren
Nicht Kinder und Bettler
Hoffnungsvolle Toren.

The years round about 1860 marked an important change in Liszt's life. His term as court conductor at Weimar, which had begun so successfully and which had seen the production of so many important works on the Weimar stage, as well as the composition of some of Liszt's own greatest works, was drawing to a close in an atmosphere of disillusionment. In 1858 had occurred the demonstration on the occasion of the first performance of Cornelius’ Barber of Bagdad, a demonstration which Liszt took to be directed against himself and which caused him to offer his resignation to the Grand Duke.

There are today signs that Arne is at last emerging from a cloud of doubt as to his musical ability, a cloud originally laid on him by Dr. Burney, who wrote in his General History of Music: