Chapter I: Part 1

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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

Vol. 20, No. 563.] SATURDAY, AUGUST 25, 1832. [PRICE 2d

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ANTIQUITIES OF THE PEAK.

CROSSES

Mr. Rhodes, the elegant topographer of _the Peak_, observes, "there are but few individuals in this country, possessing the means and the opportunities of travel, who have not, either from curiosity or some other motive, visited the Peak of Derbyshire." This remark is correct; and to it we may add, that the "few" who have not personally visited the Peak, have become familiar with its wonders through the pencils of artists, or the graphic pens of accomplished tourists. Yet their attractions are not of that general character which delights an untravelled eye: they belong rather to the wonderful than what is, in common parlance, the beautiful. Mr. Rhodes says, "Travellers accustomed to well-wooded and highly-cultivated scenes only, have frequently expressed a feeling bordering on disgust, at the bleak and barren appearance of the mountains in the Peak of Derbyshire; but to the man whose taste is unsophisticated by a fondness for artificial adornments, they possess superior interest, and impart more pleasing sensations. Remotely seen, they are often beautiful; many of their forms, even when near, are decidedly good; and in distance, the features of rudeness, by which they are occasionally marked, are softened down into general and sometimes harmonious masses. The graceful and long-continued outline which they present, the breadth of light and shadow that spreads over their extended surfaces, and the delightful colouring with which they are often invested, never fail to attract the attention of the picturesque traveller."

Our present road, however, lies through the dales rather than the mountainous portion of this district. To enjoy the picturesque variety of the former we must leave the cloud-capped peaks, and ramble with the reader through "cultivated meadows, luxuriant foliage, steep heathy hills, and craggy rocks, while the eye is enchanted with brilliant streams." Such indeed is the character of the dales, especially those through which the Derwent, the Dove, and the Wye meander. Hitherto we have but adverted to the natural beauties of the country; although they are checkered with many mouldering relics of "hoar antiquity"--many crumbling memorials of ages long past, reminding us of the nothingness of man's labours, yet harmonizing most happily with the feelings inspired by the natural sublimities of the scene. By such associations, the decaying glories of art lend even a charm to ever flourishing nature!

The Cuts are but three vignettes from the architectural lore of the district. They stand in sheltered valleys, though, as their ruinous condition implies, their situation has not saved them from the destroying hand of time. Indeed, one of them, Beauchief Abbey, gives name to its locality, Abbey Dale, not far from the partition line that separates Derbyshire from Yorkshire. In this road, the ruin in the Cut is the first object that claims the attention of the tourist in his progress to the Peak; being part of a once magnificent abbey, founded by Robert Fitz-Ranulph, Lord of Alfreton; as an expiation for the part he is said to have taken in the murder of Thomas à Becket. The late Dr. Pegg, the antiquary, discountenances this tradition. His arguments, however, which are chiefly founded on the circumstance of the brother of Robert Fitz-Ranulph, being afterwards in great favour with Henry the Second, do not appear conclusive, particularly when opposed to the authority of Dugdale, Fuller, Bishop Tanner, and others who have written on the subject.[1]

[1] Dugdale says, "Robert Fitz-Ranulph, Lord of Alfreton, Norton,
and Marnham, was one of the four knights who martyred the blessed
Thomas à Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury; and afterwards founded
the Monastery of Beauchief, by way of expiating his crime; in the
reign of Henry the Second." Bishop Tanner writes, "Beauchief, an
Abbey of Promonstatentian, or White Canons, founded A.D. 1183, by
Robert Fitz-Ranulph, Lord of Alfreton, one of the executioners of
Thomas à Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, to whom canonized, this
monastery was dedicated." These authorities are quoted by
Mr. Rhodes. Sir James Mackintosh names the four "knights of
distinguished rank," (apparently upon the authority of Hoveden,)
to have been "William de Tracy, Hugh de Moreville, Richard Britto,
and Reginald Fitz-Urse." We do not attempt to reconcile the
conflicting chroniclers; but we should add, from the subsequent
page, by Sir James, "the conspirators, despairing of pardon, found
a distant refuge in the Castle of Knaresborough, in the town of
Hugh de Moreville, and were, after some time, enjoined by the Pope
to do penance for their crime, by a pilgrimage to the Holy Land,
where _they died_, and were interred before the gate of the
Temple." Sir James describes the murder of Becket with minuteness:
"the assassins fell on him with many strokes; and though the
second brought him to the ground, they did not cease till _his
brains were scattered over the pavement_."--We know the Cathedral
guide at Canterbury shows you the stone in the place of that on
which Becket fell, and states the original stone to be preserved
in St. Peter's, at Rome; but the story is to us rather apocryphal.
At St. Alban's they show you the _dust_ of the good Duke Humphrey:
we once begged a pinch, which the guide granted freely; this
induced us to ask him how often he re-supplied the dust: the man
stared at our ungrateful incredulity.

The walls of Beauchief Abbey, with the exception of the west end, represented in the Cut, have long since either been removed, or have mouldered into dust. Parochial service is still performed in the remains; but the whole of the original form of the once extensive pile of building cannot now be traced.

The exterior architecture of the chapel is almost destitute of ornament; if we except the reeded windows, and the double buttresses at the angles of the tower, which is stated to be short of its original height. On the east side, two angular lines mark the connexion which the chapel had with the other buildings, and a part of the ground plan may be traced by an adjoining wall, in which are the remains of two circular arches, comparatively little impaired. Mr. Rhodes observes "a wreath of ivy which falls from the top of the tower, and nearly invests one side of it, breaks the dull monotony of its outline, and produces a tolerably good effect: in other respects it is not strikingly attractive as a picturesque object. The Abbey of _Bello-Capite_ will ever be dear to the antiquary who will visit it with veneration and delight; nor will the artist pass it by unnoticed. The magnificent woods, and the beautiful hills that environ the Abbey of Beauchief, amply compensate for any deficiency of grandeur in the subordinate adornments of so rich a scene."

Beauchief Abbey, though once a considerable structure, was never proportionally wealthy. At the time of its dissolution, (Henry VIII.) the whole of its revenues were estimated but at 157_l_; and with the materials furnished by its demolition was built Beauchief House upon the same estate, granted by Henry VIII. to Sir William Shelly. The mansion is still tenanted.

CROSSES.

These emblematic relics stand in two of the villages in the Peak district: viz. Eyam and Wheston. They are places of little importance; though a touching interest is attached to Eyam, from it having been visited by the Great Plague of the year 1666; its population, at this time, was about 330; of whom 259 fell by the plague.[2] The history of this calamitous visitation forms the subject of a meritorious poem by W. and M. Howitt, entitled _the Desolation of Eyam_, in which the piety of Mr. Mompesson, (who then held the living of Eyam,) his pastoral consolations to his mourning people, and the amiable character of his beautiful wife, who fell a victim to the plague,--are narrated with true pathos. Yet, this afflicting episode in village history--

So sad, so tender and so true.

having been but recently related by our ingenious contemporary, Mr. Hone,[3] we quote but two of the opening stanzas by the Messrs. Howitt:

Among the verdant mountains of the Peak
There lies a quiet hamlet, where the slope
Of pleasant uplands wards the north-wind's bleak;
Below wild dells romantic pathways ope;
Around, above it, spreads a shadowy cope
Of forest trees: flower, foliage, and clear rill
Wave from the cliffs, or down ravines elope;
It seems a place charmed from the power of ill
By sainted words of old: so lovely, lone, and still.

And many are the pilgrim's feet which tread
Its rocky steps, which thither yearly go;
Yet, less by love of Nature's wonders led,
Than by the memory of a mighty woe,
Which smote, like blasting thunder, long ago,
The peopled hills. There stands a sacred tomb,
Where tears have rained, nor yet shall cease to flow;
Recording days of death's sublimest gloom;
Mompesson's power and pain,--his beauteous Catherine's doom.

[2] Dr. Mead, in his Narrative of the Great Plague in London,
particularly mentions its introduction into Eyam, through the
medium of a box of clothes, sent to a tailor who resided there.

[3] Table Book, 1827, p. 481.

The cross at Eyam stands near the entrance into the chancel of the church. According to village tradition, this rare relic was found on some of the neighbouring hills. It is curiously ornamented with symbolic devices in bold relief. "It has suffered dilapidation from the culpable neglect of those who should have felt an interest in its preservation. About two feet of the top of the shaft is wanting, as may be seen by reference to the engraved sketch, (_See the Cut_,) which was taken in the year 1815." The sexton of the church, who was then an old man, told Mr. Rhodes in 1818, that he well recollected the missing part being thrown carelessly about the churchyard, as if of no value, until it was broken up by some of the inhabitants, and knocked to pieces for domestic purposes. The preservation of the Cross, to the extent we have shown, is referable to the philanthropic Howard, who, in a visit to Eyam, about the year 1788, or 44 years since, particularly noticed the finest part of the relic lying in a corner of the churchyard, and nearly overgrown with docks and thistles. "The value this hitherto unregarded relic had in the estimation of Howard," says Mr. Rhodes, "made it dearer to the people of Eyam: they brought the top part of the cross from its hiding-place, and set it on the still dilapidated shaft, where it has ever since remained." Other crosses, similar in appearance and workmanship, have been found on the hills of Derbyshire, particularly one in the village of Bakewell, which we have already figured in _The Mirror_.[4] It evidently originated with the same people as that at Eyam, though it is much more mutilated. These crosses have been generally regarded as Saxon or Danish, though the probability is in favour of the Saxon origin, from the high veneration of the Saxons for the sacred symbol of the cross. Thus, stone crosses were not only parts of the decorations of every church and altar, but set up as land-marks on the high roads as aids to devotion, and in market-places as incentives to integrity and fair-dealing.

[4] Vol. xi. p. 40.

Near the cross at Eyam, and in the distance of the Cut, is the tomb of Mrs. Mompesson, on one end of which is an hour-glass with two expanded wings; and underneath on an oblong tablet is inscribed CAVETE; (beware,) and nearer the base, the words _Nescitis Horam_ (ye know not the hour). On the other end of the tomb is a death's head resting on a plain, projecting tablet; and below the words _Mihi lucrum_ (mine is the gain).

The second hallowed relic is at Wheston a small and pleasant village, which is situated on an eminence that forms one side of Monksdale, and which at this place is known by the name of Peter-dale. A short distance from hence is Tideswell, about four miles from Eyam.[5] "Wheston," observes Mr. Rhodes, "though consisting of a few houses only, is a picturesque little place: the trees which are mingled with the cottages, are so abundant, and everywhere so finely foliaged, that the place altogether, particularly when seen at a short distance, appears more like a copse or wood than a village." The position of the Wheston cross favours the conclusion already made as to the purposes for which this kind of emblem was originally set up in England. It stands in the village, _near the road-side_. The upper part of the cross resembles in some of its ornaments the mullion-work of a Gothic window: the shaft is unadorned, and more modern. One side represents the infant Saviour in the arms of his mother: over their heads is a faint indication of a star, emblematic of the ray that directed the wise men of the East to the birthplace of Jesus. The reverse of the cross exhibits the crucifixion of Christ, whose birth and death it has apparently been the design of the sculptor to commemorate in the erection of this symbol of his faith. Similar structures are by no means uncommon by the road-sides throughout France, and to this day the peasantry may be seen bending before them; while the drivers of carriages on the most frequented roads are not unmindful of an act of passing homage to the time-worn emblem.

[5] From King John, the Eyam estate descended to the Stafford
family, on whom it was bestowed in consideration of certain
military services, and on the express condition "that a lamp
should be kept perpetually burning before the altar of St. Helen,
in the parish-church of Eyam." The lamp has long since ceased
to burn, and the estate has passed into other hands: it now
constitutes a part of the immense property of his Grace the Duke
of Devonshire.

Several crosses have been found in this part of Derbyshire, but only a few have escaped the dilapidations of age; the others have been, we had almost said sacrilegiously, destroyed as objects of no value. Mr. Rhodes tells us that "in one place the shaft of a cross, originally of no mean workmanship, has been converted into a gate-post; at another, one has been scooped and hollowed out, and made into a blacksmith's trough. I have seen one, which is richly sculptured on the three remaining sides, with figures and a variety of ornaments, all well executed, that was long applied to this humble purpose." The Cut shows that a portion of the cross at Wheston has been broken off; Mr. Rhodes saw the fragment as a common piece of stone, built and cemented into an adjoining wall; and he judiciously adds, "where so little interest has been felt in the preservation of these relics, it is only surprising that so many of them yet remain in different parts of the kingdom." Among all acts of wanton license, the destruction of a cross is to us the most unaccountable. We can readily refer the defacement of imperial insignia and the spoliation of royal houses to political turbulence engendered by acts of tyrannical misrule; but the mutilation of _the cross_--the _universal_ Christian emblem--remains to be explained, unless we attribute it to the brutal ignorance of the spoilers. Its religious universality ought consistently to protect it from intolerance.

We must not bring this paper to a close without explaining that the preceding Engravings have been copied from the first of Mr. Rhodes's excursions of seventeen miles, viz. from Sheffield to Tideswell. The Abbey and the two Crosses therefore occur in that district. The original plates are effectively engraved by W. and W.B. Cook, from drawings by Mr. Chantrey, R.A., who presented to Mr. Rhodes a series of drawings for his work, "as a token of his friendship, and a mark of his attachment to his native country."

* * * * *

SELECT BIOGRAPHY

M. CASIMIR PERIER.

(_PARTLY FROM THE FRENCH._)

The late French premier, was the son of a rich merchant at Grenoble, where he was born October 12, 1777. At an early age he entered the army: he served in the Italian campaigns of 1799 and 1800, in the staff of the Military Engineers. On the death of his father, however, he quitted the service and devoted himself wholly to commercial pursuits. In 1802, he opened a bank at Paris, and subsequently, establishments for cotton-spinning and sugar-refining, and a steam flour mill, all of which were eminently successful, and contributed to the formation of his immense fortune. He first became known to the public in 1816, by a pamphlet against the foreign loan system, which was equally remarkable for its clearness of argument and profound knowledge of finance. In 1817, he was elected one of the Deputies for the Department of the Seine, and from that time until the revolution of 1830, he continued the firm opponent of every ministerial encroachment on the rights and privileges of the people. He particularly distinguished himself by his hostility to the Villele administration; himself supporting almost singly the whole burden of the opposition to the famous budget of Villele, which he disputed, item by item, with talent and perseverance worthy of entering the lists with the distinguished financier to whom he was opposed. When M. de Polignac became President of the Council, the opposition of M. Perier assumed a more violent character, and he was pre-eminent among the 221 deputies who voted the address which led to the fatal ordonnances of July. When the revolution broke out, he at once avowed himself the advocate of the popular cause, and opened his house as the place of meeting of the deputies, who assembled to protest against the illegality of the proceedings of the Crown. Firmly, however, attached to the principles of constitutional opposition, and shrinking, therefore, from the probable effects of a revolution, he was one of the last to abandon the hope that his infatuated sovereign would open his eyes to the gulf on the brink of which he was standing, and by a timely revocation of the ordonnances, prevent the necessity of the extreme measure of an appeal to arms, and a consequent change of dynasty. When these became inevitable, M. Perier attached himself firmly to the work of consolidating the new throne of Louis Philippe, and reassembling those elements of order and stability which the convulsion of July had scattered, but not annihilated. On the dissolution of the ministry of M. Lafitte, M. Casimir Perier was called to the head of the government, and immediately entered into the system of conservative policy, which he continued until the close of his career. The last time he took any important part in the debates of the Chamber of Deputies was on the 20th of March, when he made an ingenious defence of the conduct of government with respect to the events of Grenoble. His last appearance in the Chamber was on the 29th of March, when he merely brought in several private bills. On the 3rd of April he was attacked by the cholera, and, although the indefatigable care bestowed on him by his medical attendants had more than once apparently eradicated the disease, his frame, enfeebled by a long standing internal complaint, as well as by his intense and incessant application, was unable to resist the violence of the disease, and, after several relapses, he at length sunk under his sufferings, on the morning of the 16th of May, 1832.

As an orator M. Perier was energetic and impassioned: the natural warmth of his temper, added to the irritability produced by illness, frequently imparted a _brusque_ acerbity to his style, which injured both the oratorical and moral effect of his eloquence; but his reasoning was forcible, and his manner commanding and effective. "It is not our province," says the editor of the Journal, whence these particulars have been chiefly obtained, "to examine the merits or demerits of his political system: recorders of, not actors in, the great political struggle in which France is engaged, we have too often had occasion to quote the enthusiastic eulogiums and unmeasured invectives heaped upon him by different parties, to render it necessary to repeat here, that he possessed the strongest proofs against the reproach of mediocrity ever being applicable to him."

W.G.C.

* * * * *

NEW BOOKS.

* * * * *

CHARACTERISTICS OF WOMEN.

[The elegantly embellished volumes by Mrs. Jamieson, with
the above attractive title, present the prettiest code of
ladye-philosophy we have ever witnessed on paper. They aim
at illustrating the characters of Intellect, Passion, and
Imagination, the Affections, and what are purely Historical
Characters, in the females of Shakspeare's Plays. Such is the
design: of its beautiful execution we can give the reader but a
faint idea by extracting from Passion and Imagination, part of the
_Character of Juliet_:--]

It is not without emotion, that I attempt to touch on the character of Juliet. Such beautiful things have already been said of her--only to be exceeded in beauty by the subject that inspired them!--it is impossible to say any thing better; but it is possible to say something more. Such in fact is the simplicity, the truth, and the loveliness of Juliet's character, that we are not at first aware of its complexity, its depth, and its variety. There is in it an intensity of passion, a singleness of purpose, an entireness, a completeness of effect, which we feel as a whole; and to attempt to analyze the impression thus conveyed at once to soul and sense, is as if while hanging-over a half-blown rose, and revelling in its intoxicating perfume, we should pull it asunder, leaflet by leaflet, the better to display its bloom and fragrance. Yet how otherwise should we disclose the wonders of its formation, or do justice to the skill of the divine hand that hath thus fashioned it in its beauty?

All Shakspeare's women, being essentially women, either love, or have loved, or are capable of loving; but Juliet is love itself. The passion is her state of being, and out of it she has no existence. It is the soul within her soul; the pulse within her heart; the life-blood along her veins, "blending with every atom of her frame." The love that is so chaste and dignified in Portia--so airy-delicate, and fearless in Miranda--so sweetly confiding in Perdita--so playfully fond in Rosalind--so constant in Imogem--so devoted in Desdemona--so fervent in Helen--so tender in Viola,--is each and all of these in Juliet. All these remind us of her; but she reminds us of nothing but her own sweet self: or if she does, it is of the Grismunda, or the Lisetta, or the Fiamminetta of Boccaccio, to whom she is allied, not in the character or circumstances, but in the truly Italian spirit, the glowing, national complexion of the portrait.[6]

[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."

* * * * *

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.

* * * * *

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_.

* * * * *

RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.

* * * * *

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.

* * * * *

THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

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.]