It rarely happens, that a theatre is enriched by a number of male performers, equal
to the task of representing those great historical characters, which Shakspeare has here pourtrayed with
his usual truth of delineation.

The theatres of London, at the present era, can boast of actors to set all such
difficulties at defiance; and yet it has been thought adviseable, for some years
past, that this tragedy should not appear upon the stage.

When men's thoughts are deeply engaged on public events, historical occurrences, of
a
similar kind, are only held proper for the contemplation of such minds as know how
to
distinguish, and to appreciate, the good and the evil with which they abound. Such
discriminating judges do not compose the whole audience of a playhouse; therefore,
when the circumstances of certain periods make certain incidents of history most
interesting, those are the very seasons to interdict their exhibition.

Till the time of the world's repose, then, the lovers of the drama will, probably,
be
compelled to accept of real conspiracies, assassinations, and the slaughter of war,
in lieu of such spectacles, ably counterfeited.

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Dr. Johnson has said of this
play—"I have never been strongly agitated in perusing it, and think it somewhat
cold and unaffecting, compared with some other of Shakspeare's plays: his adherence to
the true story, and to Roman manners, seem to have impeded the natural vigour of his
genius."²

Had Johnson lived in the present time,
perhaps this very "adherence to the true story," would have excited that warmth, and
that interest, of the absence of which he complains. A relish for the food of the
mind is to be created by a certain stimulus, the same as an appetite for the
nourishment of the body; and, in these days, political wonders occur to inspire a
more than common concern about all those that are past.

In this admirable drama is a short, and yet exact, narration, of the most remarkable
crisis in the Roman history. Every character is described by a faithful
pen—every virtuous and every wicked design nicely explained, by a penetrating
and an impartial commentator upon the heart of man.

Voltaire's tragedy,³ on the same subject, has a degree of peculiar interest, on account
of his representing, though from doubtful authority, the close relationship, which
subsisted between Cæsar and Brutus, as father and son; but the
sympathy awakened by truth, and nothing but known truth, is surely more forcible with
the generality of readers, than that which arises from a source, the least tending
towards fiction.

Some critics have objected to Shakspeare's conti-[Page 5]nuation of the play after the death of Cæsar; supposing that great event would
have been more powerful than any other for the catastrophe: but it is hardly possible
to read to the end, and wish any thing altered; unless, perhaps, that Cæsar's character had been rendered more
prominent in those few scenes where he is introduced. This drama is not, however,
designed to represent the life, but solely the death, of Julius Cæsar. The poet has not attempted
to show in action, even by one important incident, how this conqueror of the world
lived,—but merely how he died.

In so short a composition as a play some characters must necessarily be compressed;
and, in the original editions of this work, Cicero's has been more than any other diminished. That celebrated orator is
there placed amongst the dramatis personæ, and has scarcely been given a word to
say.

The following account from Upton will be of
use to the reader: The real length of time in 'Julius Cæsar' is as follows:
About the middle of February, A.U.C. 709, a frantic festival, sacred to Pan,⁴ was
held in honour of Cæsar, when the
royal crown was offered him by Marc
Antony. On the 15th of March, in the same year, he was slain. A.U.C. 711,
Brutus and Cassius were defeated near
Philippi.⁵

b 3