by the agape which makes him wish to steal men's hearts, and
prompts him so to apply his knowledge that he shall succeed. There
has been no one to touch Handel as an observer of all that was
observable, a lover of all that was loveable, a hater of all that
was hateable, and, therefore, as a poet. Shakespeare loved not
wisely but too well. Handel loved as well as Shakespeare, but more
wisely. He is as much above Shakespeare as Shakespeare is above
all others, except Handel himself; he is no less lofty,
impassioned, tender, and full alike of fire and love of play; he is
no less universal in the range of his sympathies, no less a master
of expression and illustration than Shakespeare, and at the same
time he is of robuster, stronger fibre, more easy, less
introspective. Englishmen are of so mixed a race, so inventive,
and so given to migration, that for many generations to come they
are bound to be at times puzzled, and therefore introspective; if
they get their freedom at all they get it as Shakespeare "with a
great sum," whereas Handel was "free born." Shakespeare sometimes
errs and grievously, he is as one of his own best men "moulded out
of faults," who "for the most become much more the better, for
being a little bad;" Handel, if he puts forth his strength at all,
is unerring: he gains the maximum of effect with the minimum of
effort. As Mozart said of him, "he beats us all in effect, when he
chooses he strikes like a thunderbolt." Shakespeare's strength is
perfected in weakness; Handel is the serenity and unself-
consciousness of health itself. "There," said Beethoven on his
deathbed, pointing to the works of Handel, "there--is truth."
These, however, are details, the main point that will be admitted
is that the average Englishman is more attracted by Handel and
Shakespeare than by any other two men who have been long enough
dead for us to have formed a fairly permanent verdict concerning