It is observable (I know not for what cause) that the stile of this
comedy is less figurative, and more natural and unaffected than the
greater part of this author's, though supposed to be one of the first
he wrote. [Pope.] To this observation of Mr. Pope, which is very just,
Mr. Theobald has added, that this is one of Shakespeare's _worst
plays, and is less corrupted than any other_. Mr. Upton peremptorily
determines, _that if any proof can be drawn from manner and stile,
this play must be sent packing, and seek for its parent elsewhere. How
otherwise_, says he, _do painters distinguish copies from originals,
and have not authors their peculiar stile and manner from which a true
critic can form as unerring judgment as a painter_? I am afraid this
illustration of a critic's science will not prove what is desired. A
painter knows a copy from an original by rules somewhat resembling
these by which critics know a translation, which if it be literal, and
literal it must be to resemble the copy of a picture, will be easily
distinguished. Copies are known from originals, even when the painter
copies his own picture; so if an author should literally translate his
work, he would lose the manner of an original.
Mr. Upton confounds the copy of a picture with the imitation
of a painter's manner. Copies are easily known, but good imitations
are not detected with equal certainty, and are, by the
best judges, often mistaken. Nor is it true that the writer has
always peculiarities equally distinguishable with those of the
painter. The peculiar manner of each arises from the desire,
natural to every performer, of facilitating his subsequent works
by recurrence to his former ideas; this recurrence produces that
repetition which is called habit. The painter, whose work is
partly intellectual and partly manual, has habits of the mind,
the eye and the hand, the writer has only habits of the mind.
Yet, some painters have differed as much from themselves as from
any other; and I have been told, that there is little resemblance
between the first works of Raphael and the last. The same variation
may be expected in writers; and if it be true, as it seems,
that they are less subject to habit, the difference between their
works may be yet greater.
But by the internal marks of a composition we may discover
the author with probability, though seldom with certainty. When
I read this play, I cannot but think that I find, both in the
serious and ludicrous scenes, the language and sentiments of
Shakespeare. It is not indeed one of his most powerful effusions,
it has neither many diversities of character, nor striking
delineations of life, but it abounds in [Greek: gnomahi] beyond most of
his plays, and few have more lines or passages, which, singly
considered, are eminently beautiful. I am yet inclined to believe
that it was not very successful, and suspect that it has escaped
corruption, only because being seldom played, it was less exposed
to the hazards of transcription.