Part 2

[6] Lord Byron has remarked of the Italian women, (and he could speak _avec connaissance de fait_,) that they are the only women in the world capable of impressions at once very sudden and very durable; which, he adds, is to be found in no other nation. Mr. Moore observes afterwards, how completely an Italian woman, either from nature or her social position, is led to invert the usual course of frailty among ourselves, and weak in resisting the first impulses of passion, to reserve the whole strength her character for a display of constancy and devotedness afterwards.--Both these traits of national character are exemplified in Juliet.--_Moore's Life of Byron_, vol. ii p. 303, 338, 4to edit.

There was an Italian painter who said that the secret of all effect in colour consisted in white upon black, and black upon white. How perfectly did Shakspeare understand this secret of effect! and how beautifully he has exemplified it in Juliet!

So shews a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her follows shews!

Thus she and her lover are in contrast with all around them. They are all love, surrounded with all hate; all harmony, surrounded with all discord; all pure nature, in the midst of polished and artificial life. Juliet, like Portia, is the foster-child of opulence and splendour: she dwells in a fair city--she has been nurtured in a palace--she clasps her robe with jewels--she braids her hair with rainbow-tinted pearls; but in herself she has no more connexion with the trappings around her, than the lovely exotic transplanted from some Eden-like climate, has with the carved and gilded conservatory which has reared and sheltered its luxuriant beauty.

But in this vivid impression of contrast, there is nothing abrupt or harsh. A tissue of beautiful poetry weaves together the principal figures and the subordinate personages. The consistent truth of the costume, and the exquisite gradations of relief with which the most opposite hues are approximated, blend all into harmony. Romeo and Juliet are not poetical beings placed on a prosaic background; nor are they, like Thekla and Max in the Wallenstein, two angels of light amid the darkest and harshest, the most debased and revolting aspects of humanity; but every circumstance, and every personage, and every shade of character in each, tends to the developement of the sentiment which is the subject of the drama. The poetry, too, the richest that can possibly be conceived, is interfused through all the characters; the splendid imagery lavished upon all with the careless prodigality of genius, and all is lighted up into such a sunny brilliance of effect, as though Shakspeare had really transported himself into Italy, and had drunk to intoxication of her genial atmosphere. How truly it has been said, that "although Romeo and Juliet are in love, they are not love-sick!" What a false idea would any thing of the mere whining amoroso, give us of Romeo, such as he is really in Shakspeare--the noble, gallant, ardent, brave, and witty! And Juliet--with even less truth could the phrase or idea apply to her! The picture in "Twelfth Night" of the wan girl dying of love, "who pined in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy," would never surely occur to us, when thinking on the enamoured and impassioned Juliet, in whose bosom love keeps a fiery vigil, kindling tenderness into enthusiasm, enthusiasm into passion, passion into heroism! No, the whole sentiment of the play is of a far different cast. It is flushed with the genial spirit of the south; it tastes of youth, and of the essence of youth; of life, and of the very sap of life. We have indeed the struggle of love against evil destinies and a thorny world; the pain, the grief, the anguish, the terror, the despair:--the aching adieu; the pang unutterable of parted affection; and rapture, truth, and tenderness trampled into an early grave: but still an Elysian grace lingers round the whole, and the blue sky of Italy bends over all!

Lord Byron's Haidée is a copy of Juliet in the Oriental costume, but the development is epic, not dramatic.

I remember no dramatic character, conveying the same impression of singleness of purpose, and devotion of heart and soul, except the Thekla of Schiller's Wallenstein: she is the German Juliet; far unequal, indeed, but conceived, nevertheless, in a kindred spirit. I know not if critics have ever compared them, or whether Schiller is supposed to have had the English, or rather the Italian, Juliet in his fancy when he portrayed Thekla; but there are some striking points of coincidence, while the national distinction in the character of the passion leaves to Thekla a strong cast of originality.

With regard to the termination of the play, which has been a subject of much critical argument, it is well-known that Shakspeare, following the old English versions, has departed from the original story of Da Porta;[7] and I am inclined to believe that Da Porta, in making Juliet waken from her trance while Romeo yet lives, and in his terrible final scene between the lovers, has departed from the old tradition, and as a romance, has certainly improved it: but that which is effective in a narrative is not always calculated for the drama; and I cannot but agree with Schlegel, that Shakspeare has done well and wisely in adhering to the old story.[8] Can we doubt for a moment that Shakspeare, who has given us the catastrophe of Othello, and the tempest scene in Lear, might also have adopted these additional circumstances of horror in the fate of the lovers, and have so treated them as to harrow up our very souls--had it been his object to do so? But apparently it was _not_. The tale is one,

Such, as once heard, in gentle heart destroys All pain but pity.

[7] The "Giulietta" of Luigi da Porta was written about 1520. In a popular little book published in 1565, thirty years before Shakspeare wrote his tragedy, the name of Juliet occurs as an example of faithful love, and is thus explained by a note in the margin. "Juliet, a noble maiden of the citie of Verona, which loved Romeo, eldest son of the Lord Monteschi; and being privily married together, he at last poisoned himself for love of her: she, for sorrow of his death, slew herself with his dagger." This note, which furnishes in brief, the whole argument of Shakspeare's play, might possibly have made the first impression on his fancy.

[8] There is nothing so improbable in the story of Romeo and Juliet as to make us doubt the tradition that it is a real fact. "The Veronese," says Lord Byron, in one of his letters from Verona, "are tenacious to a degree of the truth of Juliet's story, insisting on the fact, giving the date 1303, and showing a tomb. It is a plain, open, and partly decayed sarcophagus, with withered leaves in it, in a wild and desolate conventual garden--once a cemetery, now ruined, to the very graves! The situation struck me as very appropriate to the legend, being blighted as their love." He might have added, that when Verona itself, with its amphitheatre and its Palladian structures, lies level with the earth, the very spot on which it stood will still be consecrated by the memory of Juliet. When in Italy, I met a gentleman, who being then "_dans le genre romantique_," wore a fragment of Juliet's tomb set in a ring.

It is in truth a tale of love and sorrow, not of anguish and terror. We behold the catastrophe afar off with scarcely a wish to avert it. Romeo and Juliet _must_ die: their destiny is fulfilled: they have quaffed off the cup of life, with all its infinite of joys and agonies, in one intoxicating draught. What have they to do more upon this earth? Young, innocent, loving, and beloved, they descend together into the tomb: but Shakspeare has made that tomb a shrine of martyred and sainted affection consecrated for the worship of all hearts,--not a dark charnel vault, haunted by spectres of pain, rage, and desperation.

The poem, which opened with the enmity of the two families, closes with their reconciliation over the breathless remains of their children; and no violent, frightful, or discordant feeling, is suffered to mingle with that soft impression of melancholy left within the heart, and which Schlegel compares to one long, endless sigh.

"A youthful passion," says Goëthe, (alluding to one of his own early attachments), "which is conceived and cherished without any certain object, may be compared to a shell thrown from a mortar by night: it rises calmly in a brilliant track, and seems to mix, and even to dwell for a moment, with the stars of heaven; but at length it falls--it bursts--consuming and destroying all around even as itself expires."

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PALACE OF CHARLEMAGNE, AT AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

At Aix-la-Chapelle, situated nearly in the centre of his vast dominions, and in a salubrious climate, Charlemagne had fixed upon a spot for building a palace, in the neighbourhood of some natural warm baths,--a Roman luxury, in which the Frankish monarch particularly delighted. All that the great conception of Charlemagne could devise, and the art of the age could execute, was done, to render this structure, and the church attached to it, worthy of their magnificent founder. But no account can be given;[9] for nothing has come down to the present age which can justify any thing like detailed description. Nevertheless, a number of circumstances in regard to this building are occasionally mentioned in the historians of the time, that convey an idea of vastness and splendour, which probably might have been lost had minute examination been possible. Immense halls[10]--magnificent galleries--a college--a library--baths, where a hundred persons could swim at large--a theatre and a cathedral--a profuse display of the finest marble--gates and doors of wrought brass--columns from Rome, and pavements from Ravenna,--such, we know, to have been some of the many things which that great palace displayed.

[9] In all probability, the crypt of the church of Aix-la-Chapelle, as it stands at present, is all that remains of the original edifice.

[10] The baths of Aix-la-Chapelle, constructed by the emperor for the enjoyment of this recreation, were of immense extent; and while their splendour and their size showed the progress of luxury, the manner in which they were used, evinces the curious simplicity and condescension of the monarch. "Not only his sons," says Eginhard, "but also the great men of his court, his friends, and the soldiers of his guard, were invited to partake of the enjoyment which the monarch had provided for himself; so that sometimes as many as a hundred persons were known to bathe there together."

Workmen were gathered together from every part of Europe; and, though but small reliance can be placed upon the anecdotes related by the Monk of St. Gall, it is evident, from every account, that the building must have been the most magnificent architectural effort which Europe had beheld since the days of the splendour of ancient Rome.

Besides the palace itself, we find, that an immense number of buildings were constructed around it, for the accommodation of every one in any way connected with the court, and adjoining, were particular halls, open at all times, and in which all classes and conditions might find a refuge from the cold of night, or from the wintry storm.[11]

[11] Stoves were furnished also to warm those who might take refuge in these general chambers; and the Monk of St. Gaul asserts, that the apartments of Charlemagne were so constructed, that he could see everything which took place in the building round about,--an impossible folly, imagined by the small cunning of a monk.

Within the walls, was that famous domestic college, on the maintenance, extension, and direction of which Charlemagne, amidst all the multiplicity of his occupations, found means to bestow so much of his time and attention. But every trace of his actions tends to prove, that his first and greatest, object--to which even conquest was secondary, if not subservient--was to civilize his dominions, and to raise mankind in general from that state of dark ignorance into which barbarian invasion had cast the world.

During the first ten or fifteen years after its establishment, the college of the palace had probably followed the court during its frequent migrations, notwithstanding the number of members, and the difficulty of transporting the library, which soon became considerable. Many circumstances, however, seem to show, that after the construction of the great palace at Aix-la-Chapelle, it became fixed in that place. The library, we know, was there concentrated; and several of the books thus collected, such as the Codex Carolinus, &c. have come down through a long line of emperors to the present day. Indeed, a great part of the most valuable literature of former ages, was preserved alone by the efforts of the French monarch for the revival of science; and the link of connexion between ancient and modern civilization, owes its existence, as much to the endeavours of Charlemagne, as even to the papal preservation of antique Rome.

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WRITING IN FRANCE.

In the reign of Charlemagne, in the year 796, the mode of writing underwent a change. The rude characters employed under the Merovingian race were disused, and the small Roman letters were introduced. As the spirit of improvement proceeded, new alterations were sought; and some years afterwards, to write in the large Roman capitals, became the mode of the day, the initial letter of each paragraph being always highly ornamented, and sometimes painted, many specimens of which have come down to the present time. Though at an advanced[12] period of life when this method of writing first began to prevail, Charlemagne endeavoured to learn it, and even caused models of the letters to be laid by his pillow, that during the waking moments of the night, he might practise the art which he sought to acquire.

[12] I do not know whether it be worth while to attempt to refute the opinion which has been founded on an erroneous passage in Eginhard, that Charlemagne could not write. Eginhard understood, as Gibbon says, the court and the world, and the Latin language, it is true; but, nevertheless, we may much more rationally believe that the secretary made use of a vague expression, than suppose that he wished to imply, in one sentence, the manifest contradiction of Charlemagne being in the habit of going through all the abstruse calculations of astronomy, in an age when those calculations were most complicated, without being able to write. The whole of Charlemagne's life renders the supposition absurd. He studied under Alcuin, whose first rule was to teach the most correct orthography in writing. We know that he subscribed many deeds, though his signature was abbreviated, to render it as rapid as possible. Eginhard himself states, that the monarch wrote the history of the ancient kings in verse: and Lambecius, one of the highest antiquarian authorities, declares, that the imperial library still contains a manuscript, corrected by the hand of Charlemagne himself.

Nor did the monarch remain satisfied with leading the way himself on the path of knowledge which he desired the whole nation to follow; nor content himself with bestowing on his children a careful and judicious education, both mental and corporeal; but by constantly proposing in writing questions for solution, addressed to the various prelates and teachers of his realm, he forced them to exercise their talents and cultivate their minds, under the severe penalty of shame and ridicule. On the other hand, literary merit was never without its reward, for though, as far as we can discover, Charlemagne, wise in his generosity, seldom if ever gave more than one profitable charge at once to one man, yet those who distinguished themselves by talent and exertion, were sure to meet with honour, distinction, and competence.--_James_.

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RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.

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THE MONEY OF BETRAYAL, OR "PRICE OF BLOOD."

[Two Illustrations]

The following very curious notice respecting the money (coin and value) for which Judas Iscariot betrayed our Redeemer, (and afterwards, with it, purchased "the Potter's Field, to bury strangers in,") is extracted from _The Sovereign Order of Saint John of Jerusalem_, by ANDREW FAVINE, 1620, and will no doubt prove acceptable to the reader:--

"In this citty of Rhodes they did beate and stamp money of silver, in bignesse somewhat neare to an half teston of France, but yet much thicker, and the figures thereon more embossed than ours are. These pieces of silver are like to the halfe sickle of the Jews, or the diobrachma of the Romaines, but they be more worth. There is a tradition, that the thirtie pence, for which the Saviour of the world was sold and delivered to the Jews, by the traitor, Judas, were of this kinde. And in very deede, in the Church of the Holy Crosse of Jerusalem, at Rome, is to be seene one of those thirtie pence, which is wholly like to that in the Church of the Temple, in the citty of Paris. It is enchased in a shrine, and is to be seene but thorow a christall glasse, and on the side which may be noated, appeareth nothing but a head.

"The learned Gulielmus Budeus, the honour of our Citty of Paris, and of all France, in the remarkable tract which he wrote, _De Asse_, affirmeth that he had scene the pennie of silver, in the Temple at Paris, and that on it was represented a head, as in truth there is. But, concerning the other side, neither the learned Cardinall Baronius, nor Budeus, doe speake anything else; then of the weight of those silver pence, which the Evangelists tearme Argenteos. One of those silver pence of Rhodes I have, and both the sides thereof, in this manner I shew to you (_vide Engraving_).

"I have confronted and compared it with the sight of that pennie at Rome, and the other in the Temple at Paris, and they are all three alike, both in the visage and in the circumference. Mine is in weight two groates, a halfe pennie less of silver, which commeth to twelve sols and one liard. On the other (_one?_) side, it hath the visage of the sunne, like to the fashion of a young man's face, without a beard, with long locks of hayre, as here it is figured, and as poets have feigned. On the other side is a blowne rose, higher and greater than ours are;[13] which commeth somewhat neare in resemblance to the rose which we tearme of Jericho, and which are brought from the Holy Land. Upon this pennie the rose hath, on eache side, a button, (bud) the one whereof beginneth to blome, but not the other. Above the rose, on the ring of the piece, is formed in capitall Greeke letters, [Greek: RODION], (Rhodian,) which signifieth, and would say (if it could) _a rose_. At the foote whereof is this sillable, EY. (Favine then mentions the arms of Rhodes, which, as well as we are able to translate the old French, left untranslated, appears to be Field _d'Argent_, a rose _proper_, with buds; _gules_, stalk, _de synople_.) So," he continues, "that thirtie pence of this money amounteth not but altogether to the summe of eighteen poundes seaven shillings and sixe-pence of our money, and seemeth a very small summe for buying a piece of ground, or land, which the Evangelists call Ackeldemach, (Alcedaema), 'The Potter's Field,' so neere to Jerusalem peopled with more than a million of men, solde for an offence, and with condition that it should never be redeemed, in regard it was destined for the Burial-place of Pilgrims, which came to Jerusalem at the solemn Feasts there held; and every one well knoweth, that (amongst the Jews) inheritances were sold, more or less, according as the conditions were made, either neere, or further off, from the yeare of jubilee, which they feasted from fifty yeares, to fifty yeares; a feast, so solemnly observed among them, that the sellers did then re-enter into their sold inheritances, which they possessed again freely, and without any charge, or paying any arrerages, according as it was ordained by their law, in the five-and-twentieth chapter of Leviticus. But it may be, this Potter's Field was (in parte) bought with those thirtie pence, and the other parte might be the almes and giftes of the proprietaries or owners, both in the Temple of Jerusalem and publickly, for so good a subject as the buriall of pilgrims, and poore strangers. For ever, and beside the offerings and Tribute-money, which the Jews offered and paid to the treasurers in the Temple, for maintaining the Tribe of Levi, (the deserving ministers thereof) who, at the distribution and division of the Land of Promise to the Jewish people, had not any lot or partage (but were assigned to the Jews devotion,) inheritances might be legacied to them, which falling into mortmaine, could not be redeemed by any custome of kindred, whatsoever jubilee might be alledged, or selling, or alienating, as it is written in the seaven-and-twentieth of Leviticus. And such an inheritance was called _Ager Anathematis_--a field wholly dedicated and consecrated to God; and which from thenceforward, might fall no more into any secular, or prophane hand."

[13] Amongst other interpretations of "_Under the Rose_," why may we not conjecture that it may have something to do with _bribes to silence?_ with _hush-money?_ the _Rose_, in many countries, being not an unusual stamp on their coins.

After this erudite disquisition, which endeavours to account for the _smallness_ of the sum for which our blessed Lord was betrayed, and for which Alcedama was purchased, how would honest Andrew Favine stare, could he learn that modern commentators have, _without comment_, assigned something less than _one-fifth_ of 18_l_. 7_s_. 6_d_. as the "price of innocent blood." We transcribe in proof, the annotation on Mat. 26 c. 15 v. from D'Oyly and Mant's Bible:--"'_Thirty pieces of silver_.' Thirty shekels, about 3_l_. 10_s_. 8_d_. of our money. It appears from Exod. 21 c. 32 v., that this was the price to be paid for a slave or servant, when killed by a beast. So vilely was HE esteemed, who shed his precious blood for man; and so true it is, that _Christ_ took upon him the form of a servant." Now, the Jewish _shekel_ being valued at 2_s_. 4-1/4_d_. and the coin of the _next_ superior denomination, (the _maneh_) being set down in our Bible money-tables, at 7_l_. 1_s_. 5_d_. it is clear that _several_ of _intermediate value_ must have existed, for exchange, which might reconcile this difference. M.L.B.

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THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

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PORTDOWN FAIR.

[A series of characteristic sketches of Life in the Navy, has appeared in the successive numbers of the _Metropolitan_, from the pen of Captain Marryatt, author of the _King's Own_, and other popular novels, with a high stamp of originality. The sketches before us are entitled Peter Simple, and detail the early adventures of a Middy with much of that delightful ease we are wont to admire in the writings of Smollett, Fielding, and the _character_ novelists of the latter half of the past century. The style of Captain Marryatt is fresh, vigorous, and racy--"native and to the manner born,"--abounding in lively anecdote, but never straying into caricature--with just enough of the romance of life to keep the incidents afloat from commonplace, and probability above-board. This and the following are specimen sketches.]