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"Thar, Jard Hardman," declared the outlaw, "I had one bullet left." And he threw his empty gun with violence at the prostrate body. Purcell's long taut body jerked into swift action. His gun spurted red as it leaped out. Pan, quick as he drew and shot, was too late to save Mac New. Both men fell without a cry, their heads almost meeting.
It is interesting to note that abroad Pasquini and Kuhlau went to work very much in Purcell's fashion, and added to that same stock from which Handel and Bach and every subsequent composer drew, each adding something of his own.
The truth is that in Purcell's music there are no marked stages of development, no great changes in style. Undoubtedly he gradually grew in power, richness of invention, fecundity of resource; but the change was one of degree, not of kind. He never, as Beethoven did, went out to "take a new road." He struck what he knew to be his right road at the very beginning, and he never left it.
When the coffin was laid on the bier, Purcell's funeral chant, "Lord, Thou Hast Been Our Refuge," was sung, and Dean Bradley and the whole assemblage sang, "Rock of Ages," and then while the coffin was being borne along the aisle to the grave, sang Mr. Gladstone's favorite hymn, "Praise to the Holiest in the Height."
Could she fix her attention on the music and think of nothing else? There was no time for reflection. Dr. Pepusch had gone into the house and the thin but sweet tones of a harpsichord were floating through the open window. He was striking a few preliminary chords and indulging in an extemporised prelude. A pause, and then he commenced Purcell's song.
I'm going to speak to Mr. Palmer about your singing two or three just to see how the people take 'em. The words will be the old ones, not my new verse. You won't have to trouble about my words yet awhile." Gay ran over the titles of the old ballads Purcell's "What shall I do to show how much I love her?"
A complete list of Purcell's compositions appears somewhat formidable at a first glance, but when one comes to examine it carefully the solidity seems somewhat to melt out of it. The long string of church pieces is made up of anthems, many of them far from long. The forty odd "operas" are not operas at all, but sets of incidental pieces and songs for plays, and some of the sets are very short.
If idealizing means the filing-away of jagged edges and surely it does not Mr. Champneys has left us to do our own idealizing. The faults that marred Purcell's Life of Manning are here avoided, and yet truth is no whit the sufferer in consequence.
He also rewrote a part of Playford's Brief Introduction to the Skill of Music. It is not my intention to analyse the dramas. No more can be done in the narrow space than give the reader a notion of Purcell's general procedure of filling his space, and the salient characteristics of the filling.
Handel modified Haydn less than the others; Haydn was then getting on towards old age; he was also by force of sheer instinct above all things a writer for the orchestra; and Handel's art, derived in the first place from Purcell's, had become a purely personal one which no one since has copied with the slightest success.
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