Woodward strikes the judicious eye with a strong resemblance of Paul Veronese: he has all the vivacity and ease of that great painter, and fully equals him in his fancy for the singular and the shining in his draperies; but, as he shares his beauties, he is not without his faults. His composition is sometimes improper, and his design always incorrect; but with these blemishes, however, his colouring is so well calculated to catch the eye, that he never fails to strike at first sight, and makes so happy an impression on the generality of an audience, that they never perceive what is deficient.
Though the last, not the least in my esteem, Macklin shall be produced; nor must those who judge superficially, be surprized when they see me call forth for his parallel Michael Angelo. It must be confessed of this great painter, that the choice of his attitudes was, though never unjust, not always pleasing: that his taste in design was not the most minutely fine, nor his outlines the most elegant; that he was sometimes extravagant in his conceptions, and bold even to rashness in his execution: perhaps the player of the parallel inherits some tincture of these faults; but to compensate, he has all his excellencies. He knows the foundation of the art better than them all: he designs, if less beautifully than some, more accurately than any: he better understands nature of the human frame, and the situation and power of its muscles than any man who ever played, nor has any man ever understood it like him as a science: there is an air of truth in all his figures, a greatness and severity in many of them that demand the utmost praise: and in the whole, if nature has qualified him less for shining in some of the most conspicuous parts than many, none has fewer faults.
A correspondent has in a former number made some remarks on the corruptions, or, as they are called, alterations and adaptations of the plays of Shakspeare. As he has not prosecuted the subject, I will, with your permission, say a word or two on that vilest and most infamous of literary treasons, Tate's burlesque of king Lear.
This tragedy, as written by Shakspeare, is in my opinion the very noblest of our author's works; and by the generality of critics, I believe, none of his plays are absolutely preferred to it, except Macbeth. It is inconceivable how any one could think such a play required an alteration beyond the omission of the fool's character; and still more so, how Tate's transformation of it could have been at first endured by the nation: but that it should have been constantly represented at our national theatres for nearly one hundred and thirty years to the total exclusion of Shakspeare's divine drama, would be a circumstance totally incredible, were it not verified by experience, that the majority of an audience are very little troubled with a spirit of inquiry, and are no doubt ignorant of the vast difference between the two dramas. The play, as now performed "has the upper gallery on its side;" whose members, being unacquainted with Shakspeare's tragedy, are enchanted by the mad scenes, mangled as they are, and by all that it is retained of the original, and therefore they applaud the whole, and witness its repetition. But it never could be inferred from their applauses, that even these spectators prefer Tate's play to Shakspeare's; there is no comparison in the case: they applaud the one, because they are pleased with it, not because they are displeased with the other, which they never saw, and of which they know nothing. Let the classical manager of ---- ---- theatre make a trial; it will be worthy his ambition to introduce a reformation, which even Garrick overlooked; and he may be assured, that the event will not only add to his reputation, but what is a more important consideration with our managers, will add to his profits also. Let Shakspeare and Tate have a fair struggle; and who can doubt the final triumph of Shakspeare.[I]