Chapter 1 sets out the historical context for the revision of the Dominican liturgy in the mid-thirteenth century. It opens with a discussion of the scope and challenges of the corpus of ‘pre-Humbertian’ Dominican books dating from before and during the revision period; the surviving books can be used to complement our understanding of the development of the Dominican liturgy, particularly with regard to the mass. Then, drawing on early legislative documents and other Dominican writings, the chapter charts what is known about the protracted revision period and the reception of the revised liturgy. A narrative emerges of a search for liturgical uniformity that took several years to achieve, beginning in 1244, first assigned to a commission of four (unnamed) friars, and finally completed by Humbert of Romans in 1256.

Chapter 4 is the second of three chapters to consider an aspect of the material production of Dominican liturgical books. Music scribes, termed ‘notators’, are the focus of this chapter. Their work is first contextualised through a discussion of the Dominican regulations concerning notation, and the antecedents which may have influenced these Dominican rules. The chapter then turns to the three Dominican liturgical exemplars: Rome, Santa Sabina, XIV L 1; London, British Library, Add. 23935; and Salamanca, San Esteban, SAL.–CL.01, which were copied in Paris in the mid thirteenth century. The musical palaeography of each exemplar is examined in turn. Numerous notators are identified across the three exemplars, only one of which, potentially a Dominican cantor, copied notation in more than one exemplar. The majority of the notators appear to have been professionals. Beyond the Dominican sphere, this has implications for understanding professional medieval music book production in the milieu in which books of Notre Dame polyphony were made, as well as numerous other chant books.

Chapter 10 brings together the trends in material production and liturgical revision presented across the book. It first discusses what the three thirteenth-century Dominican liturgical exemplars (Rome, Santa Sabina, XIV L 1; London, British Library, Add. 23935; and Salamanca, San Esteban, SAL.–CL.01) reveal as a microcosm of Dominican and Parisian book production, contributing in particular to our understanding of the working practices of professional music scribes or notators. It then shifts focus to the liturgical contents of the exemplars, charting the types of changes that were made at different stages of the Dominican liturgical revision, and considering what these changes reveal about the agendas of those involved in the revision. Finally, the status of the first exemplar is reconsidered, offering new insights into the process of revising the Dominican liturgy.

The aria Erste Liebe, Himmelslust, WoO 92 (previously known as Primo amore, piacer del ciel), is the longest Beethoven composed, far exceeding those in Fidelio or his other dramatic and stage works. As one of his earliest arias, its origins have remained somewhat obscured because of limited surviving evidence, while the Italian translation copied into the autograph manuscript (now in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin) reinforced the perception of his inadequacies at text-setting. More recently, the identification of brief German-language sketches in the Kafka Miscellany (British Library) and Ernst Herttrich’s 1993 discovery of Gerhard Anton von Halem’s original German poem have paved the way for renewed assessment of the work. This chapter offers a more thorough consideration of all extant evidence in relation to the work’s genesis (including a sketch housed in the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, Vienna, not previously associated with WoO 92), assesses Beethoven’s construction of an aria that deviates deliberately from the strophic refrain structure of Halem’s poem, and aims to offer a re-evaluation of his nuanced approach to metre, motif and meaning as viewed through the lens of the original German-language text. Such analysis demonstrates that Erste Liebe is a strikingly sophisticated (and subtly prophetic) manifestation of Beethoven’s approach to text-setting, while offering a valuable point of departure for evaluating his subsequent engagement with large-scale aria forms in later stage works and dramatic genres.

Although much has been written about nineteenth-century Beethoven reception in England and the figures who promoted his works, attention has largely focused on London. In comparison, very little attention has been given to Manchester and in particular the significant contribution of Charles Hallé. Perhaps best known for establishing the first professional orchestra in England, Hallé was also a celebrated pianist and a Beethoven champion. He gave the first known complete Beethoven piano sonata cycle (a feat he repeated on several occasions) at a time when a significant proportion of Beethoven’s oeuvre still caused bewilderment and confusion, and through his judicious concert programming he systematically increased awareness of Beethoven’s larger works, helping to establish their popular appeal. This chapter explores Hallé’s admiration for Beethoven through accounts in letters, biographies and contemporary newspapers, and in so doing reveals the considerable knowledge he acquired of the composer by tracing his encounters with those who had known Beethoven personally. It is perhaps no coincidence that Hallé’s performances were often regarded by critics as coming closest to the original spirit of the composer, and examination of his editions (published by Chappell and Forsyth) and the exercises he created to aid pianists in learning the sonatas and other solo piano works provide fascinating insights into the performance practices and pianism which gave rise to this reputation, confirming that his contribution to Beethoven studies has yet to be fully uncovered.

Beethoven begins Concerto No. 4 in G major with the solo piano announcing the opening theme as p dolce. The piano continues to have a prominent position before the thematic material of the concerto, as can be noted through the frequent presence of expressive word cues in the score (for example, dolce and espressivo). These word cues assist in maintaining the pastoral mood, which appears in the opening theme, and serve to highlight the depth of pathos the piano soloist can achieve in subsequent transformations of tutti themes. This chapter offers a close reading of these word cues throughout the concerto through a hermeneutic approach. This method also elaborates on the relevance of Beethoven’s Erard piano in the compositional process. Further comments are made on contemporary performance practice to shed light on perplexing examples of word cues in the concerto with respect to the range of the theme they apply to or the thematic material itself. Expressive word cues in the score of the Fourth Piano Concerto are thus shown on one hand to offer a greater spectrum of expression for the piano soloist, often suggesting an evolution within the thematic material, and help form a more complex understanding of the pastoral genre; on the other hand, the expressive word cues for the orchestral instruments in the third movement reveal the significance of specific thematic fragments for the movement as a whole.

Although a whole book has been devoted to the subject of Beethoven and England (by Pamela Willetts, London, 1970), Beethoven’s relationship with Scotland and the Scots needs a much fuller exploration than has been achieved hitherto. The connections are many and substantial, ranging from Czerny’s suggestion that the initial inspiration for the Eroica Symphony was provided by the death of the Scottish General Abercromby in 1801 to an actual visit to Vienna in 1819 by John Smith of Glasgow, who met Beethoven and evidently brought back to Scotland five of his latest compositions. Between these dates Beethoven had expended much energy composing several dozen settings of Scottish melodies, and writing sets of variations on four of them – all at the request of George Thomson of Edinburgh. Beethoven’s knowledge of Scottish musical life was informed by fascinating details mentioned in Thomson’s letters. His understanding of Scottish music, however, derived directly from the melodies he was sent. These melodies much impressed him, and he penetrated deep into the heart of their character in his settings. Instead of trying to amend the unconventionality of the melodies, he drew out their musical implications in his accompaniments, preludes, postludes and variations, using drones or modal elements where appropriate, as this chapter demonstrates. Consequently he was able to evoke something of the spirit of Scotland and Scottish music in his settings, as was recognised by German reviewers of his collection of Scottish songs Op. 108.

Beethoven is commonly perceived as a religious man whose music often reflects his faith, but as only a superficial adherent to Catholicism. Many still consider him more influenced by freemasonry, contemporary philosophy, non-Christian religions or secular reforms than as a man of faith. This chapter reassesses the case for his orthodoxy, particularly referencing significant statements concerning his beliefs, the diverse influences on his thought and faith, and their relationship to his music, morality and actions. These influences include his family; his broader education; classicism; Enlightenment thought, politics and reforms and their interaction with Catholicism; Romanticism; the Catholic religious revival; literary, philosophical or theological writers and thinkers such as Schiller, Kant, Christoph Christian Sturm, Clemens Maria Hofbauer, Zacharias Werner and Thomas a Kempis; and members of Beethoven’s circle, such as Joseph Carl Bernard and Carl Joseph Peters, who are shown to encompass a more complex, wide-ranging outlook than the narrower religious confines often attributed to them. Also re-examined are personal events such as Beethoven’s death, his nephew Karl’s upbringing and the manifestation of his beliefs in his compositions, particularly his Missa solemnis. Some influences have hitherto been almost completely neglected and others misrepresented, notably Beethoven’s maternal family (particularly his mother, his cousin Franz Rovantini and his many relatives of clerical or religious state), Sturm, and in particular the theologian Johann Michael Sailer – whose influence is investigated in depth. From this reappraisal emerges a man and composer of far more orthodox Christian faith and integrated thought than previously considered.