TYBALT: "What, drawn and talk of peace? I hate the word, as I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. Have at thee coward."
So we are introduced to the antagoniser Tybalt. Whose molten aggression fuels the crashing whirlpool, pouring his turbulence of hatred unwittingly upon it in undying tides, squashing those who try to right their wrongs. His role in the fated tale of the lovers plays a large part, his own fury ending only in his death, his own flawed character betraying him. Yet in his death the tides of destruction which he left behind him caused a far stronger current of tragedy in his wake, than anything he could have done in his living. He is just one of many players who dealt the hand of death to Romeo and Juliet.
And yet in the middle of this ferocious, barren landscape, seemingly no room for anything but hatred and resentment, two lovers emerge. Rising as the beautiful flower in a wilderness choked by weeds. The tiny, blissful oasis of love amongst the infinitely vast sea of anger and bittersweet hatred. Almost instantly the creeping, sly sense of foreboding warns how can such innocence and love survive in an atmosphere spawned from hatred and violence? Two entities from opposing families, families torn apart, an impenetrable rift, a chasm that cannot be healed, yet in vain they try, this gap only breached by their deaths.
Yet at the first storm between the two families, Romeo has not yet met Juliet, he is madly in "love" with the illusive Rosaline.
Rosaline, placed upon a shelf of undying chastity, which stretch as he might is always infuriatingly out of grasp from Romeo's fingertips, itching with longing and yearning. Yet it is not Rosaline who Romeo is in love with. Romeo is in love with the idealism of love itself. He longs for it with an intense ferocity, every mocking, untouched fibre of his being fantasised for its blissful escape from the long menial hours.
BENVOLIO: "What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?"
ROMEO: "Not having that which makes them short"
It is not Rosaline Romeo yearns for, it is being in love. Rosaline is the thorny rose stem, masquerading as its sweet perfumed flowers; Romeo is teased with the alluring fragrance of love, yet is stung with the sharp prick of rejection. Pearlescent beads of unrequited love shimmering alone as they derive their bloodred pathway down Romeo's scorned, unblemished skin. Rosaline however, is conveniently the brightest flower among a sparse bunch. She is the faceless mannequin, which is produced for Romeo to idolise. He mistakes his physical attraction and infatuation for her with love.
His poetic language and intricate oxymoron's entwine their beauty of words, their lyrical tendrils interlink, forming a shield of deception which conceals their illusive, true meaning; it is not really Rosalines' love he longs for, he wants to break her chastity, he longs for passion and physicality.
ROMEO: " She will not stay the siege of loving terms
Nor bid the encounter of assailing eyes
Nor ope her lap to gold."
So Romeo is not the beguiled love lorn innocence we first perceived him to be. There is a side to him, until now shrouded in darkness, the harsh light of truth reveals an impetuous, reckless character hidden by a demeanour of beauty.
The first glimpse of this veiled character is caught at the Capulets party, and from the on Romeo seems to become increasingly more headstrong. His fiendish tempers and hasty decisions breaking the stagnant waters of Juliet's calm. Yet without them Romeo and Juliet would not exist.
It is at Capulets party that Romeo first meets Juliet, astounded by her beauty all thoughts of Rosaline are promptly washed away by Juliet's captivating waters.
Romeo: "For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night"
Romeo, so quick to plunge in and out of loves turbulent oceans, exchanging one beauty for another. Yet this time his impetuosity has brought him to true love; Juliet. Although it does not always deliver such delicacies. If it were not for Romeo's dual natures, double edged sword of impulsiveness he would not have murdered Tybalt and hence ignited a trigger of events which would eventually end in his and Juliet's deaths.
Juliet's character in contrast eases through situations with an effortless, seamless calm. There is no sparkle in her aurora, no defining flaws or traits that make the rest of us who we are. Simply a nameless face with but a few imperfections, a pawn for Shakespeare to manipulate, for Romeo to weave his narrative thread around.
One of the few times this shape becomes distorted, Juliet becomes animated is when, fuelled by pure desperation, she seeks aid from Friar Lawrence, the go between. For once she is acting on her own accord having lost the strings which her masterful puppeteer Romeo holds. She is no longer a living reflection of his feelings and emotions.
Love; the unrequited "love" between Romeo and Rosaline. The true love between Romeo and Juliet. And possibly the most fierce, tempestuous form of love found in Romeo and Juliet; the love formed between ones kin.
The Montagues and the Capulets, each loyal to their own with a demonic ferocity. The tightly woven bonds of kin, forming an impenetrable barrier. Yet those resilient chords pose an indissoluble grip, so tight it becomes excruciatingly choking, the devious noose of loyalty only burning when it is too late to loosen its immortal grasp. It could, would, and was both families' finality.
So bright, so overbearing, shined the fluorescent light of devotion and rivalry, that it did blind the eyes, with the stinging sensation of misplaced guilt to any who tried to bridge the disparity between the two families. The iridescent light of bitter hatred and antagonism lure those who follow it away from the path of justice and down a road, which leads to death and destruction.
MERCUTIO: "O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Tybalt you rat catcher, will you walk?"
TYBALT: "What wouldst thou have with me?"
It is this very rivalry which leads to Mercutios death and in turn lit the ignition to a perilous chain of events. The mortal fuse slowly blistering down on Romeo and Juliet's fatal providence, which was the only current strong enough to extinguish the unscathed fires of the Capulets and Montagues rivalry.
"Which nought but their children's death could remove"
No parties remain innocent in dealing the fatal hand of death to Romeo and Juliet, every player had their role to fulfil. Yet disguised deep beneath each factor, hidden away in a chasm of deceitful innocence, is love. The ambiguous presence masking itself in others wrong doings.
If its tides not so strong, its waters not so alluring, so captivating, that highly strung emotion would not coerce us into irrational behaviour. Not distort the perfectly formed pigments of our minds, blurring them into a deceptive haze of wellbeing, when all along having the capability to ruin this picture of happiness, metamorphosing it into a vision of pain. It is Love itself that led to Romeo and Juliet's death.
By Lucy Adler
