such as in all other nations are connected with the rudest stages of society, and with the most barbarous modes of warfare, nor even in such circumstances without many palliatives wanting to the spectators of the Circus ;-combining these considerations, we have already a key to the enormities and hideous excesses of the Roman Imperator. The hot blood which excites, and the adventurous courage which accompanies, the excesses of sanguinary warfare, presuppose a condition of the moral nature not to be compared for malignity and baleful tendency to the cool and cowardly spirit of amateurship in which the Roman (perhaps an effeminate Asiatic) sat looking down upon the bravest of men (Thracians, or other Europeans) mangling each other for his recreation. When, lastly, from such a population, and thus disciplined from his nursery days, we suppose the case of one individual selected, privileged, and raised to a conscious irresponsibility, except at the bar of one extrajudicial tribunal, not easily irritated, and notoriously to be propitiated by other means than those of upright or impartial conduct, we lay together the ele ments of a situation too trying for poor human nature, and fitted only to the faculties of an angel or a demon; of an angel, if we suppose him to resist its full temptations; of a demon, if we suppose him to use its total opportunities. Thus interpreted and solved, Caligula and Nero become ordinary men.

the suddenness of the summons, and from the unseasonable hour, and scarcely doubting that by some anonymous delator they have been implicated as parties to a conspiracy, they hurry to the palace-are received in portentous silence by the ushers and pages in attendance-are conducted to a saloon, where (as in every where else) the silence of night prevails, united with the silence of fear and whispering expectation. All are seated-all look at each other in ominous anxiety. Which is accuser? Which is the accused? On whom shall their suspicion settle-on whom their pity?-All are silent-almost speechless-and even the current of their thoughts is frost-bound by fear. Suddenly the sound of a fiddle or a viol is caught from a distance-it swells upon the ear-steps approach

and in another moment in rushes the elderly gentleman, grave and gloomy as his audience, but capering about in a frenzy of excitement. For half an hour he continues to perform all possible evolutions of caprioles, pirouettes, and other extravagant feats of activity, accompanying himself on the fiddle; and, at length, not having once looked at his guests, the elderly gentleman whirls out of the room in the same transport of emotion with which he entered it; the panic-struck visitors are requested by a slave to consider themselves as dismissed: they retire; resume their couches :-the nocturnal pageant has "dislimned" and vanished; and on the following morning, were it not for their concurring testimonies, all would be disposed to take this interruption of their sleep for one of its most fantastic dreams. The elderly gentleman, who figured in this delirious pas seulwho was he? He was Tiberius Cæsar, king of kings, and lord of the terraqueous globe. Would a British jury demand better evidence than this of a disturbed intellect in any formal process de lunatico inquirendo? For Caligula, again, the evidence of symptoms is still plainer. He knew his own defect; and purposed going through a course of hellebore. Sleeplessness, one of the commonest indications of lunacy, haunted him in an excess rarely recorded.* The same,

But, finally, what if, after all, the worst of the Cæsars, and these in particular, were entitled to the benefit of a still shorter and more conclusive apology? What if, in a true medical sense, they were insane? It is certain that a vein of madness ran in the family; and anecdotes are recorded of the three worst, which go far to establish it as a fact, and others which would imply it as symptoms -preceding or accompanying. As belonging to the former class, take the following story: At midnight an elderly gentleman suddenly sends round a message to a select party of noblemen, rouses them out of bed, and summons them instantly to his palace. Trembling for their lives from

ed for the benefit of a very ingenious friend, who has formed the design of a picture, taken from the following stanza of the old ballad of Chevy Chase,

"Next day did many widows come," &c. Though this ballad is not strictly historical, yet time has given it a sanction almost equal to such authority; and as we are to look to the battle of Otterbourne for many of its events, it assumes a somewhat higher rank than a completely fictitious subject would be permitted to claim. In the action passed on the Borders between the retainers of the great houses of Douglas and Percy, in some degree the manners and dress of the two countries are to be preserved; not only the military, but the common and ordinary habiliments of the higher, middle, and lower classes, of such as might be likely to visit the field the day after the battle, in search of their friends and relatives. I recollect, in the first sketch of this object, the friends of Douglas are bearing his body from the field in a kind of solemn procession, the whole in shadow. The perspective of this retiring train produces a melancholy yet sublime effect. The form of the body is scarcely perceptible; the bearers, and they who precede the corpse, grow indistinct from the increasing distance; and the few who follow appear to have their heads and bodies covered with something like mourning cloaks. This last division of the attendants of the deceased hero, I have taken the liberty to criticise as bearing too near a resemblance to a funeral provided by an undertaker, and may probably introduce ludicrous ideas, where all should be serious and solemn. I rather think this group should principally consist of military persons not completely armed de pied au cap, but rather negligently, as their condition might require under the existing circumstances, but still in such manner as to distinguish them as retainers or friends of the house of Douglas. Having stated thus much of the subject, the following questions will naturally arise, to enable the painter to execute his task with fidelity and propriety. Was there any difference in the defensive armour of the contending parties; and if so,

in what did it consist? Were the offensive weapons the same? or in what did they differ? Should the followers of the body of Douglas have their helmets on their heads, or in their hands; and was there any peculiar mode of carrying their arms on such an occasion? Was the plaid in use at this period; and if so, how was it worn? Was there any

distinction or difference in dress amongst persons of the higher, middle, or lower ranks, except that of fineness or quality-I mean such as were professedly not military? Suppose Lady Percy should be introduced lamenting over the body of her husband, as she would form part of the principal group, how might she be properly drest as to colour and fashion of her clothes? Was there any prevailing colour in the dresses of middle and lower classes? Was the bonnet, or what else, worn on the head at this period, and of what form and colour? I take it for granted that the inhabitants of the low country of Scotland differed but little in their dress from the French and English, with whom they had constant intercourse. The armour of the military retainers might be similar likewise, but that the great distinction was the badge or crest of the great leaders which was worn by the common soldiers, either painted or embossed upon their armour before and behind, such as I have observed on the plate of the siege of Boulogne, temp. Hen. VIII., and published by the Society of Antiquaries. This seems confirmed by an historical event at a subsequent period. At the battle of Barnett, in 1471, the similarity of a sun and a star on the liveries of Edward and Warwick, produced a mistake fatal to the Lancastrians. I wish my friend had taken the battle of Otterbourne for his subject, in which Douglas was slain, and Hotspur taken prisoner; this would, I think, have given greater variety and interest to the picture; but I do not interpose my fallible judgment to obliterate the impressions which genius may have formed in the mind of the painter, and which thorough knowledge of his art may enable him to execute beyond my feeble conception. I love the sister arts; and when I am writing to the first Poet of the age, I scarcely