Purcell is also a chief, though not the chief, among song-writers. And
he stands in the second place by reason of the very faculty which
places him amongst the first of instrumental and choral writers. That
dominating picturesque power of his, that tendency to write
picturesque melodies as well as picturesque movements, compelled him
to treat the voice as he treated any other instrument, and he writes
page on page which would be at least as effective on any other
instrument; and as more can be got out of the voice than out of any
other instrument, and the tip-top song-writers got all out that could
be got out, it follows that Purcell is below them. But only the very
greatest of them have beaten him, and he often, by sheer perfection of
phrase, runs them very close. Still, Mozart, Bach, and Handel do move
us more profoundly. And an odd demonstration that Purcell the
instrumental writer is almost above Purcell the composer for the
voice, is that in such songs as "Halcyon Days" (in "The Tempest") the
same phrases are perhaps less grateful on the voice than when repeated
by the instrument. The phrase "That used to lull thee in thy sleep"
(in "The Indian Queen") is divine when sung, but how thrilling is its
touching expressiveness, how it seems to speak when the 'cellos repeat
it! There are, of course, truly vocal melodies in Purcell (as there
are in Beethoven and Berlioz, who also were not great writers for the
voice), and some of them might almost be Mozart's. The only difference
that may be felt between "While joys celestial" ("Cecilia Ode" of
1683) and a Mozart song, is that in Mozart one gets the frequent
human touch, and in Purcell the frequent suggestion of the free winds
and scented blossoms. The various scattered songs, such as "Mad Tom"
(which is possibly not Purcell's at all) or "Mad Bess" (which
certainly is), I have no room to discuss; but I may remark that the
madness was merely an excuse for exhibiting a series of passions in
what was reckoned at the time a natural manner. Quite possibly it was
then thought that in a spoken play only mad persons should sing, just
as Wagner insists that in music-drama only mad persons should speak;
and as a good deal of singing was required, there were a good many mad
parts. Probably Purcell would have treated all Wagner's characters,
and all Berlioz's, as utterly and irretrievably mad. Nor have I space
to discuss his instrumental music and his instrumentation, but must
refer shortly to the fact that the overtures to the plays are equal to
Handel's best in point of grandeur, and that in freedom, quality of
melody, and daring, and fruitful use of new harmonies, the sonatas are
ahead of anything attempted until Mozart came. They cannot be compared
to Bach's suites, and they are infinitely fresher than the writings of
the Italians whom he imitated. As for Purcell's instrumentation, it is
primitive compared to Mozart's, but when he uses the instrument in
group or batteries he obtains gorgeous effects of varied colour. He
gets delicious effects by means of obligato instrumental parts in the
accompaniments to such songs as "Charon the Peaceful Shade Invites";
and those who have heard the "Te Deum" in D may remember that even
Bach never got more wonderful results from the sweeter tones of the
trumpet.