One aspect of Purcell's genius I have noticed that perhaps hasn't been
mentioned previously is his ability to slide so easily between different
musicial idioms, especially between the "high art" and the more "rustic",
(or even bawdy) aspects of the English musical scene in the late 17th
century.  Perhaps this was something that was common in England then--one
only needs to think of the juxtaposition of rustic and exalted characters
in Shakespeare--but doesn't always come through in the music scene of the
rest of Europe in that time.  Even "The Fairy Queen" has its origins in "A
Midsummer Night's Dream", to the extent that I once attended a performance
of the play which actually incorporated Purcell's music in masque-like
scenes, and came off reasonably well.

Similarly, in "King Arthur", with its text by Dryden, Purcell easily sets
the hilarious scene with some drunken hay-balers (something to the words
of "your Hay, it is mow'd"--nudge nudge) to provide some relief from all
the royal declamations and battles.  Yes, he could be stately as needed,
but life was short (especially for him) and there was much more to it than
just ceremony.

Much of Purcell's music has a simpler, more direct folk-like quality to
it versus (for example) that of his contemporaries across the Channel such
as Lully.  Much of the time, I suspect (but can't prove without further
study) that he incorporates folk tune idioms in his music.  Very few great
composers--Haydn being among them--have such an easy ability to use rustic
idioms in their art music.  And of course, there's the *real* colorful
stuff, like his tavern ditties, which would probably have shocked his
fellow Victorian-era countrymen two centuries hence!

His mature orchestration style similarly has a lighter, more transparent
touch, done with amazing skill--I have always been taken with his signature
use of the Baroque trumpet as a "song" instrument, such as in the Symphony
from "King Arthur", or in the Sonata.  Quite different from the more
militant character we associate with trumpet music of that era.

I've read many times of that two-hundred year "dry spell" in great native
English composers after Purcell, though I'm not sure that it's an entirely
correct notion.  But that it took someone of the stature of an Elgar to end
the perceived drought says much indeed, doesn't it?

Bill H.