Alps and Sanctuaries of Piedmont and the Canton Ticino | Page 4

whether of
men or things, rather than as a mere musician, that Handel reigns
supreme. There have been many who have known as much English as
Shakespeare, and so, doubtless, there have been no fewer who have
known as much music as Handel: perhaps Bach, probably Haydn,
certainly Mozart; as likely as not, many a known and unknown
musician now living; but the poet is not known by knowledge
alone--not by gnosis only--but also, and in greater part, 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 them. We not only believe them
to have been the best men familiarly known here in England, but we
see foreign nations join us for the most part in assigning to them the
highest place as renderers of emotion.
It is always a pleasure to me to reflect that the countries dearest to these
two master spirits are those which are also dearest to myself, I mean
England and Italy. Both of them lived mainly here in London, but both
of them turned mainly to Italy when realising their dreams. Handel's
music is the embodiment of all the best Italian music of his time and
before him, assimilated and reproduced with the enlargements and
additions suggested by his own genius. He studied in Italy; his subjects
for many years were almost exclusively from Italian sources; the very
language of his thoughts was Italian, and to the end of his life he would
have composed nothing but Italian operas, if the English public would
have supported him. His spirit flew to Italy, but his home was London.
So also Shakespeare turned to Italy more than to any other country for
his subjects. Roughly, he wrote nineteen Italian, or what to him were
virtually Italian plays, to twelve English, one Scotch, one Danish, three
French, and two early British.
But who does not turn to Italy who has the chance of doing so? What,
indeed, do we not owe to that most lovely and loveable country? Take
up a Bank of England note and the Italian language will be found still

lingering upon it. It is signed "for Bank of England and Compa."
(Compagnia), not "Compy." Our laws are Roman in their origin. Our
music, as we have seen, and our painting comes from Italy. Our very
religion till a few hundred years ago found its headquarters, not in
London nor in Canterbury, but in Rome. What, in fact, is there which
has not filtered through Italy, even though it arose elsewhere? On the
other hand, there are infinite attractions in London. I have seen many
foreign cities, but I know none so commodious, or, let me add, so
beautiful. I know of nothing in any foreign city equal to the view down
Fleet Street, walking along the north side from the corner of Fetter