The introduction situates political writing and publishing as vital tools in articulating, disseminating, and shaping political movements and ideas in modern Britain. It explores the diversity of political genres, from elite forms such as parliamentary novels and newspaper obituaries to grassroots expressions such as punk fanzines and coalfield women’s writing. It highlights how ‘high political’ and subaltern voices respectively engaged with political writing, sometimes to reinforce dominant narratives and at other times to challenge or subvert them. It examines the gendered politics of authorship, particularly how women and marginalised groups used writing to claim authority and reshape the boundaries of political discourse. Attention is given to the role of literature and publishing in mediating the intersections of culture and politics, from fascist propaganda and socialist poetry to the intellectual infrastructure of devolved Scotland and Northern Ireland. By contextualizing political writing within broader historical and cultural transformations, the introduction positions the chapters of the book as a series of ‘core samples’ that reveal the relationships between genre, ideology, and activism.

This chapter discusses modern approaches to understanding Hensel’s music and future scholarly challenges for its interpretation. Nowadays Hensel’s music is written about and performed widely and she has become one of the best-known woman composers. Yet this was not always the case. What had to happen to transform Hensel – in the eyes of scholars, performers, students and lay listeners – from an overlooked and sometimes maligned figure into someone now regarded as one of the most gifted composers of her generation? What lessons can we learn from considering how she moved from the margins toward the centre of the canon? And what challenges lie ahead? Looking back on the past forty years of Hensel studies reveals three main, interlinked developments that have shaped our understanding of her music: a greater awareness of the relationship and differences between her and her brother’s musical styles; a more sophisticated analytical understanding of her music; and a drastic increase in the amount of her music available for study.

Mendelssohn’s ten visits to England made the country easily his most important foreign destination. Although he was consistently feted by British audiences both as composer and performer, he privately expressed dissatisfaction with the state of music making he encountered, which compared unfavourably in many respects with that in Germany, especially with regard to rehearsals. Nevertheless, he kept on returning, in part because it provided a truly international shop window for his major new works. He was also honest enough to admit enjoying his reception, while he was also able to renew the many personal friendships he formed over the years. At the same time, his early death can be attributed in part to the exhaustion caused by his incessant activity during his final visits to the country, which was posthumously set to honour him publicly more than Germany.

Today, the Treatise is Hume’s most well-known work. But that was not so in the eighteenth century. Hume could even famously claim that his Treatise “fell dead-born from the press.” Still, modern scholarship has shown that the Treatise had a more significant early reception than Hume’s comment suggests. This chapter sheds new light on the reception of Hume’s Treatise in eighteenth-century Britian. It surveys the existing historiography and considers Hume’s relevant surviving correspondence. But it also explores overlooked dimensions of the Treatise’s early reception, partly by employing data mining in electronic databases, particularly Eighteenth Century Collections Online (ECCO). Analyzing that data in various ways, we illuminate new dimensions of this topic. They include unpacking close engagements by familiar figures, like Lord Kames; casting light on the many who invoked, critiqued, anthologized, or otherwise absorbed and broadcast the Treatise; and identifying the larger trends of eighteenth-century reuse to which all of those individual stories contributed.

A preoccupation with the music of Johann Sebastian Bach was one of the constants in the lives of the Mendelssohn family, especially Fanny and Felix. Bach was one of the few composers who were considered exemplary in the Mendelssohn family. The special chorale and fugue-orientated training with Zelter, their membership of the Singakademie and the cultivation of Bach among their family and friends make it clear in which traditions the siblings Fanny and Felix grew up and undertook their first musical steps and expressions. Bach’s works are always present in the musical performances of both of them. In Fanny’s ’Sunday musicales’, works by Bach were just as much a part of the repertoire as in the concerts that Felix conducted or played on the piano or organ. Their lifelong engagement with Bach’s music is reflected in the compositions of Fanny and Felix and includes details of content, form and compositional technique.

Modern scholarship has in general portrayed Mendelssohn as a composer held in high regard during his lifetime but posthumously downgraded. This chapter presents a more complex picture, arguing that his reception during his life moves through three distinct phases. It examines the themes present in the earliest reviews of his works (1824–9) revealing how German reviewers emphasised the young composer’s dependence on models. In contrast, English reviewers from the start acclaimed him as one of the leading composers of the age. It then explores the upturn in Mendelssohn’s critical fortunes in the 1830s and responses to key works such as the Piano Concerto in G minor and St Paul. It concludes by exploring negative assessments by Hegelian critics such as Franz Brendel in the 1840s, comparing Mendelssohn’s mixed reception in Germany with the continuing effusive praise he received from English critics such as George Macfarren.

Nowadays Beethoven’s canonic status is taken for granted, but in the 1820s as the Mendelssohns were coming of age, his music was still controversial, and their advocacy of it was something that set them apart from many contemporaries. In their roles as composers, performers, and promoters of music, both Felix Mendelssohn and Fanny Hensel would play a fundamental part in the evolving story of early nineteenth-century Beethoven reception. Moreover, their activities intersected with some of the other leading figures in the nineteenth-century canonisation of Beethoven in ways that shed light on the already contested legacy of their forebear. Equally, the influence of Beethoven on Hensel and Mendelssohn has often been misunderstood, commonly being viewed through later 19th-century anxieties and ideologies that remain extraneous to their world. In short, their relationship with Beethoven is crucial for understanding their own music – and historically was no less crucial for understanding Beethoven’s.

The posthumous reception of the life and works of Felix Mendelssohn differs from that of any other composer of his generation. The unique esteem and admiration he experienced during his lifetime, especially in Germany and England, changed into a more ambivalent or critical evaluation, often tinged with anti-Semitic ressentiments. In a musical culture that valued progress, genius and nationalist narratives, he was increasingly sidelined by music writers and composers because of his stylistic choices, his perceived embodiment of bourgeois values and his cosmopolitanism, despite his continued popularity with performers and audiences. Mendelssohn’s reception reached its nadir when his works were banned in Nazi Germany between 1933 and 1945. Since then, interest in the composer has increased, supported by scholarly editions of his works and letters, and his symphonies, concert overtures and oratorios are performed consistently, although his choral music and piano pieces have suffered from the decline in amateur music-making.

This chapter establishes that the Gospel and Epistles of John do not share a common author, highlighting differences in their reception histories, linguistic features, and ideas.

Although little of her music appeared during her lifetime, Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel was well known due to the numerous publications about her brother Felix. With the rise of feminism in the late nineteenth century, she was frequently mentioned as part of the larger discourse about the problems that women composers faced. After the publication of Sebastian Hensel’s Die Familie Mendelssohn (1879), Hensel came to serve as a symbol for women’s societal restrictions, most notably for pro-suffrage writers in the United States and England. Hensel was frequently at the centre of published arguments about women’s creativity, and her music was sometimes programmed to rebut assertions of their inability to compose. Knowledge of Hensel was transmitted through American women’s organizations, and children’s music clubs were named for her. Although Hensel’s fame faded in the mid twentieth century, publications and recordings of her music were stimulated by second-wave feminism beginning in the 1970s and 1980s.

This section explains how 1 John, 2 John, and 3 John became attributed to John, the son of Zebedee, and how they were folded into the biblical canon.

Taking its cue from passages in the Mendelssohn family’s correspondence concerning aspects of Jewish tradition and Christian conversion, and drawing on the work of modern scholars, the chapter considers from a variety of angles the sense of Jewishness with which Fanny Hensel’s and Felix Mendelssohn’s lives were imbued. With reference to a range of literature on Jewish history, the question of the siblings’ Jewish identity is explored in the wider context of German Jewish social and religious life at the time, as well as its implications within the Mendelssohn family’s private circle, for example, inter-generational tensions. Attention is given to the reception history of the family’s Jewish identity in the context of anti-Jewish attitudes, reflected in a range of sources including the remarks of the siblings’ composition tutor, Carl Friedrich Zelter to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and the writings of Richard Wagner, while also identifying echoes in modern Mendelssohn scholarship.

Considering Ennius’ Hedyphagetica in its contexts of sympotic celebration, this chapter contends that some later Roman authors – namely, Lucilius, Horace, Catullus, Lucretius, and Persius – think of Ennius as a seafood specialist. They have, it suggests, an eye on his Hedyphagetica’s relationship with his Annales as one whereby both poems come packaged together in the reception of the older mainland Italian poet.

This pithy Introduction justifies the existence of the volume and explains why its contributors do not apply the term “minor works” to Ennius’ corpus. It then provides an overview of the diversity of this corpus, zooming in on the remains of his comedy as an example of what is not quite lost, and briefly shows that Ennius deeply influenced the Roman literary tradition as a multiform author (not just as an epicist). The Introduction closes by explaining the dispensation of the volume and what its contributors achieve.

This chapter argues that Ennius began his epic poem, the Annales, by boasting about his non-epic literary accomplishments, in particular his Saturae. It proceeds to corroborate this view by demonstrating that Ennius’ non-epic and non-tragic corpus – his Saturae, Sacra historia, Scipio, Sota, Epicharmus, and Hedyphagetica – continued to be read and engaged with by important Latin figures (e.g., Terence, Virgil, Apuleius, Lactantius) for hundreds of years. Multiplicity was key, therefore, both to Ennius’ self-representation and to his long Roman reception.

This chapter examines the changing reception of Charles Harpur’s poetry. Firstly, it considers the valuing of Harpur as a nature poet, and secondly, the impact of literary theory on interpretative approaches. It then outlines a third phase that is text-historical or text-critical, and which is attentive to the poems’ multiple moments of composition and revision. The chapter discusses Harpur’s navigation of colonial readership, and how he experimented with a range of voices. It includes an examination of his translations that are related, in part, to Harpur’s fascination with the role of the poet and with other poets, such as Coleridge.

This chapter seeks to demonstrate that the Nag Hammadi text is indeed the text referred to by Irenaeus, thus establishing its relatively early date. While confirming Irenaeus’s claim that this work was popular within the Valentinian tradition he regards as heretical, it is argued that Valentinian usage of this text does not imply a Valentinian origin.

Louise Farrenc grew up in Paris during the Revolutionary period that saw the rise and fall of Napoleon Bonaparte and of different monarchies in France. These political changes impacted the Parisian musical scene and influenced Farrenc’s career and that of her friends and colleagues. Farrenc began her career as a virtuoso pianist-composer writing popular works like sets of variations on opera melodies and folksongs, but at the end of the 1830s, she changed her musical path. In the 1840s, like many composers in Central Europe at the time, she abandoned the virtuoso music of her youth to write chamber music with and without piano as well as three symphonies. She became known as a composer of serious music, an upholder of “German” traditions in France, and critics wrote about her compositions as representing the best new music of France. Her Nonet for Winds and Strings provides a culmination of the work she had done up to that point as a composer and performer devoted to finding a “middle way” between the Classical and Romantic traditions.