The Gemshorn can be defined as a folk recorder, made from an animal horn, which enjoyed some currency from the latter part of the fourteenth century to the middle of the sixteenth. It belongs to that definitively European class of instruments, the end-blown fipple pipes; but it is unique amongst them in having a bore which is a stopped inverted cone. Apart from endearing itself to organists for some four and a half centuries as a useful flute-stop in which its name survives, the Gemshorn made few appearances, whether folk or formal, after its final decline round about 1550.

St. Cecily, a Roman virgin, beautiful, of noble and wealthy birth, ‘believing the Gospel, carried it alwaies about her, reading often thereon’. But her father betrothed her to Valerian, a young aristocrat who was not a Christian. He, ‘being inflamed with the love of Cecily, desired much the wedding day’. But Cecily ‘fasted, wept, and prayed continually’, desiring God to preserve her virginity, ‘for that this marriage was not by her desired … since she had given herself wholly to Jesus Christ’. Nevertheless the wedding took place and only afterwards, when she was alone with Valerian in the bridal chamber, was she able to tell him of ‘a waighty matter … I have an Angel of God in my company, who is jealous of me, and guardeth my body very diligently. If he see thee so hardy, as to come near, or touch me, with carnal or lascivious love, he will chastise thee rigorously; but if he see, that thou love me with pure and chast love, he will love thee, as he lovest me.’ Valerian, we are told, ‘hearing these words, was somewhat troubled’.

Vaughan Williams's music divides fairly easily into three Beethovenian periods: the works written up to 1914, which include several of his most deservedly popular and lyrical works; those written between the two wars, when he was striking out in several new directions; and the final period, from the Second World War to his death in 1958, during which he became even more prolific. His reputation rests on the nine symphonies, on the ballet Job, which like Elgar's Falstaff is of symphonic stature, on his operas and on a number of large-scale choral works. Also, of course, on the delightful songs which first made his name a household word.

An opera so widely known and loved as La traviata may seem. a strange subject for musicological research. It was first performed in March 1853. From the following year onwards it enjoyed an uninterrupted reign as an international favourite. Throughout the nineteenth century it came second in popularity only to Il trovatore; while Verdi himself, when asked at one point which of his own operas he preferred, is said to have replied, ‘Speaking as a professional, Rigoletto, speaking as an amateur, La traviata’. In the period following his death many of Verdi's works now considered masterpieces sank for a while below the horizon—but not La traviata. Today it is not only Verdi's best-loved opera, but the most popular piece in the entire operatic repertory. What more could there be to find out about it?

Like every other constituent of opera in the middle of the eighteenth century, the overture was subjected to theoretical scrutiny. Rousseau's article in the Encyclopédie was the starting point for critical discussion. An attack on the traditional French overture was part of his general campaign against French tragédie lyrique, and with characteristic polemical skill he gives an illusion of objectivity by attributing his views to unspecified third parties. He begins with an impeccable definition: ‘The overture is a symphonic piece which the composer aims to render brilliant, imposing, harmonious, and which introduces operas and other lyric dramas of substantial proportions’. He goes on to point out that 40 years earlier the French type of overture was exported to Italy. But music has progressed since then, so the Italians now use the quick-slow-quick sequence. By so doing they silence the audience and command attention with the lively opening; induce receptivity to emotions with the softer slow section; and arouse a sense of expectancy with the conclusion. They (the Italian musicians) assert that the French overture does not fulfil the essential function of engaging the attention of the audience, because the slow introduction is indistinguishable from the preliminary tuning-up, and because what follows is conducive of boredom, not concentration. Rousseau goes on to deal with the relationship of the overture to the following opera. A connection between the two is desirable. But it is wrong to include in the overture all the features of the drama. This has the consequence that the action and the development of the opera is presented twice. The best kind of overture, says Rousseau, is one which predisposes the audience to be receptive to the mood of the opening scene of the opera.

Ralph Vaughan Williams's father died when Ralph was two years old; his mother took her three small children to her own parents' house, Leith Hill Place, near Dorking, and brought them up much as she had been brought up herself. Besides the children, the household consisted of grandparents and a maiden aunt, and a staff of servants, mostly local people. Judging from a photograph of a group of them, none was young, and all were slightly eccentric.

The name of Hasse is customarily associated with vocal rather than instrumental music. Rightly so, for the operas and sacred vocal works stand at the centre of his activity as a composer. It was the vocal music that established Hasse's international reputation and elicited such admiration from eighteenth-century critics. The same bias prevails in modern literature. Of the various studies devoted to Hasse since 1900 only one deals at length with any aspect of the instrumental music—and, significantly, it treats the overtures to dramatic works. The instrumental music proper remains largely unexplored. One might assume that instrumental music was of little importance for Hasse. But this is not the case. He wrote, for example, at least 60 concertos, a fair number even by the prodigious standards of the eighteenth century.

The year 1646 was an important one in the musical career of George Jeffreys. Since at least 1643, and probably from October of the previous year, Jeffreys had been organist to Charles I at Oxford, an appointment which may have been secured for him by his patron, Sir Christopher Hatton, who was shortly to become Controller of the King's Household. Jeffreys' long association with the Hatton family dates back to at least 1631. In that year he set some verses by Sir Richard Hatton and collaborated with Peter Hausted in the comedy The Rivall Friends which was produced before the king and queen at Cambridge on 19 March. But Jeffreys' life at court and his association with the leading poets and musicians of the day were to come to an abrupt end on 24 June 1646. With the final surrender of Oxford to the Parliamentarian forces, led by Fairfax, Jeffreys retreated to the small Northamptonshire village of Weldon, where nine years earlier he had married the daughter of Thomas Mainwaring, rector of Weldon from 1614 until 1663. On leaving Oxford, Jeffreys retired for ever from the life of a professional musician. Almost immediately he became steward to Sir Christopher Hatton, and from about 1646 until his death in 1685 he was responsible for the administration of the Hatton estate at Kirby in Northamptonshire.