Montague

When I first came up to London I had rooms in Montague Street, just round the corner from the British Museum.

Romeo is a Montague and Juliet, a Capulet.

In the almost 100 years The New Yorker magazine has existed, it's published thousands of cartoons. Yet never in its history had a black female cartoonist published for the magazine – that is, until Liz Montague came on board.

It goes without saying that she knew nothing whatever of the bad relations subsisting between her father and her sweetheart. She did not know her Romeo was a Montague still less that to him she was a Capulet.

For seven years she and her father, and her father-in-law, remained estranged, till old Santa-Pia Capulet lay on his death bed, still adamant in his political convictions, recalcitrant against the orders of the state (on emancipation), and unrelenting toward his daughter, the dead Romeo, and old Montague; and so he died, with only a vague gesture of forgiveness toward Fidelia, though Campos (Prince Escalus) had been trying all the while to bring about a reconciliation.

Still, despite Marshall's impression of a kind of Montague-Capulet feud, George Catlett did succeed in marrying Laura Emily, the daughter of Dr. Jonathan Bradford, and his sister, Margaret, married Laura's brother, Thomas.

Romeo's mother was precisely what I had painted her — a Lady Montague of the severest, with coffee-coloured point-lace, a Cornelia one shade too stout for the mother of the Gracchi.

She playfully called herself a tragedienne, much like Juliet Capulet, and she thought of Timmy as her Romeo Montague.

That said, Capulet's skepticism has a sound rationale. She needs only one kind of thing, caloric fluid, to explain the movement and behavior of heat. Montague has posited two kinds of things, heat itself and heat radiation, each popping up to do the job it is good for and then conveniently metamorphosing into the other when that's what's needed instead.