In his magisterial survey of England in the year 1815, the French historian Élie Halévy could not explain why England, which had in the eighteenth century achieved a measure of distinction in fine art and literature, had failed to do so in music. He argued that not only should music have been immune to Puritanical strictures on art and theatre, but the most prominent of the Puritan sects – Methodism – encouraged singing, and Anglican churches were increasingly introducing organs. But the rise in the quality of sacred music that might be expected from competition between denominations did not occur. For Halévy this suggested something lacking in the English as such. Although such a sweeping generalisation is hardly warranted by observations made at a specific point in time, a similar opinion was frequently expressed by contemporary commentators.

In 1813 a contributor to the Examiner deplored the aristocracy’s low level of taste, which inhibited the advance of good music in England. The writer thought that only through the exertions of the ‘middle orders’ would England ever advance in musical taste. In a slightly later issue the same sentiment was expressed in even more uncompromising tones:

Another writer opined that the acquisition of artistic taste was of little interest to ‘the great majority of this trading, taxed, and war-devoted nation … except that species of it which is musical; and even with regard to that, the best judges have agreed that “the English are not a musical nation”’. And in the following year a review in the Literary Gazette included the following remark after praising an English singer: ‘We are proud of this singer. Ours is not a musical nation, and we therefore feel the full merit of national musical talent whenever we meet with it.’ The same view of England was expressed in an article on Haydn and Mozart: ‘Ours is not a musical nation; but we are anxious that in this, as in all the fine arts, our taste should be formed by hearing the best models perfectly executed.’