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[CHAPTER THREE
THE MIDDLE COMEDIES (I)
A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Merry Wives of Windsor
and
The Merchant of Venice]
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- - - III - - -
The Merry Wives of Windsor, like all of its comic predecessors, depends on the observance of an ideal world order for the achieving of the state of harmony at its conclusion, where even the outsider, Falstaff, is accepted into the Windsor community. In The Merchant of Venice Shakespeare once again makes use of an isolated figure, Shylock, opposed to the central community of the play, but the nature of the conflict between him and the other characters in the play is radically different from anything seen in the earlier comedies. Whereas previously the motivating conflict of the plays had been related to some obstacle blocking love, here the possibility of love between Shylock and the comic world is remote at all times, and indeed is never brought about. The reason for this is that Shylock is the principal representative of the Jewish race, and the central conflict is a clash between racial groups which are shown to be irreconcilably opposed. Had Shakespeare wished to brush the racial issue aside, he could have made Shylock a truly comic figure instead of building him up to almost tragic proportions; but I believe that Shakespeare was interested in the racial aspects of his plot, for whatever reasons, 3.93 and therefore he could not create a comic resolution between Shylock and the Christians. Such racial harmony as this would imply did not exist in Elizabethan England - although Mahood suggests that the setting of the play in Venice ensured that the audience would have a set of 'well-defined expectations', 3.94 among which would be the depicting of a state in which the 'colony of Jews was a privileged community'. 3.95 In reality the Jews were a suppressed minority, and it is possible that in his treatment of Shylock and the Christians in Venice, Shakespeare was 'questioning the myth' of racial tolerance, 3.96 in both Venice and London.
In addition to the conflict between Jew and Christian which dominates the first four acts of the play, Shakespeare also had a more conventional
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story of romantic love, with its attendant conflicts, and it is with this that the comedy begins:
In sooth I know not why I am so sad,
It wearies me: you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuffe 'tis made of, whereof it is borne,
I am to learne ....
(I.i.1-5) 3.97
It would be uncharacteristic of Shakespeare to open a comedy without reference, even if only indirect, to some of the major concerns of the action. In this case Antonio's sadness is the subject under discussion, and while it is never specifically mentioned again, it is an undercurrent throughout the play. As its cause is never directly revealed, it has been suggested that it is simply a device used to set a tragic tone, a premonition of impending disaster; 3.98 but the audience is invited to look more deeply than this: one hundred lines are devoted to a discussion of Antonio's sadness, in which he is questioned by his frivolous companions as to its nature and causes, two of which are proposed and dismissed. The first is a suggestion that Antonio 'Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize' (I.i.40), introducing not only the idea of mercantile activities, but also the risks associated with them, and to this Antonio replies,
Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,
Not to one place; or is my whole estate
Vpon the fortune of this present yeere:
Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad.
(I.i.41-45)
This makes it clear right at the outset that Antonio is in a sound financial position, a point which becomes important when he has to bargain with Shylock on Bassanio's behalf.
The second suggestion, that Antonio is in love, is not so forcefully denied: his reply is simply 'Fie, fie' (I.i.46), meant to be an outright denial, but weakened by the absence of any supporting argument on Antonio's part. That love is not far from his thoughts is indicated by his first question to Bassanio once they are left alone:
Well: tell me now, what Lady is the same
To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage
That you to day promis'd to tel me of?
(I.i.1190121)
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Antonio knows that Bassanio proposes to go in quest of a wife, and this affords one explanation of his sadness, since it will cause a separation of the two men, between whom there is a strong bond of friendship. 3.99 This recalls the conflict between love and friendship explored in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, but with the important difference here that there is no remorse on Bassanio's part at losing his friend. There is never any question in Antonio's mind that he will do everything he can to help Bassanio in his quest for Portia, but at the same time there are oblique hints that he feels martyred in doing so, and indulges his melancholy. He recognises Bassanio's right to live his own life but is saddened that he is not a part of it:
I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,
A stage, where euery man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.
(I.i.77-79)
When it comes to his making the supreme sacrifice for his friend, Antonio releases Bassanio of all debts, provided he comes to witness his death; but Antonio also enjoins him not to come unless it is for love, and later he says:
... pray God Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not.
(III.iii.35-36)
The implication of this is that Antonio feels most acutely the conflict between his love for Bassanio and Bassanio's for Portia; he insists that Bassanio should be devoted to him in his death, and almost goes as far as to draw a comparison between his own love and that of Portia, implying his is the greater:
Commend me to your honourable Wife,
Tell her the processe of Anthonio's end:
Say how I lou'd you; speake me faire in death:
And when the tale is told, bid her be iudge,
Whether Bassanio had not once a Loue:
(IV.i.269-273)
and then, most significantly:
Repent but that you shall loose your friend
and he repents not that he payes your debt.
(Q IV.i.274-275)
Antonio pays his sacrifice willingly only on condition that Bassanio
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should return his love. The required response is forthcoming during the trial:
... life it selfe, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem'd aboue thy life.
I would loose all, I sacrifice them all
Heere to this deuill, to deliuer you.
(IV.i.280-283)
This is one of the moments of wry comedy characteristic of this play, and the trial scene in particular: the alacrity with which Bassanio makes his unrealistically generous offer weakens its effect, showing that he has no real conception of the conflicting interests of his love for Antonio and Portia. She, however, makes her understanding of the conflict quite clear in her comic, ironic aside:
Your wife would giue you little thanks for that
If she were by to heare you make the offer.
(IV.i.284-285)
Bassanio's gallant proposal to redeem Antonio is reduced by this cutting remark almost to the level of farce; but Portia is not jealous (as we may sense Antonio is) - only realistic. Earlier she had shown her understanding of the conflict between love and friendship by insisting that Bassanio should go to assist in Antonio's affairs, for until Antonio's hold on Bassanio is released, her own claim to Bassanio's love is diminished:
... away to Venice to your friend:
For neuer shall you lie by Portias side
With an vnquiet soule.
(III.ii.303-305)
This is not just the indulgence of an understanding, sympathetic wife: rather, it is a command to Bassanio to sort out his affairs and define his loyalties. Salerio's account of the men's parting shows how strong the bond is with which Portia has to contend, although it is, even here, portrayed as a singularly one-sided love, with Bassanio's affection not even mentioned:
And euen there his eye being big with teares,
Turning his face, he put his hand behinde him,
And with affection wondrous sencible
He wrung Bassanios hand, and so they parted.
(II.viii.46-49)
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Their love is further emphasised by Solanio's comment, 'I thinke he onely loues the world for him' (II.viii.50), a remark which goes a long way in explaining Antonio's willingness to pay the supreme sacrifice for his friend.
The opening scene, then, introduces an undercurrent of conflict which is maintained throughout the play - the different demands made on Bassanio by his friendship with Antonio and his love for Portia. What makes this conflict a dramatically effective device for sustaining tension is Bassanio's ill-defined loyalties - or rather, that he is intensely loyal to both wife and friend, with neither winning his complete devotion. In the second scene the fable of the three caskets is introduced, and we learn more of Portia and her quest for a husband:
... I may neyther choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike, so is the will of a lyuing daughter curbd by the will of a deade father: is it not harde Nerrissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none.
(Q I.ii.22-26)
She had opened the scene with the same world-weariness that had gripped Antonio earlier: 'By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a wearie of this great world' (I.ii.1-2); but while Antonio's malaise relates to the loss of Bassanio, Portia's is concerned with the curbing of her right to choose her own husband. She is strongly tempted to ignore the restrictions imposed on her, and expresses her inner conflict:
If to doe were as easie as to know what were good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches ... it is a good Diuine that follows his owne instructions; I can easier teach twentie what were good to be done, then be one of the twentie to follow mine own teaching: the braine may deuise lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a cold decree.
(I.ii.11-19)
Nevertheless she is adamant that she will abide by the terms imposed on her:
If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will dye as chaste as Diana: vnless I be obtained by the manner of my Fathers will.
(I.ii.102-104)
Another source of conflict in the play is racial prejudice, and there is a characteristic echoing of the idea in plot and sub-plot: the conflict between Jew and Christian is most apparent in Shylock's clashes with Antonio, but also finds its place in the minor episodes concerning Jessica. It is first found in the play in the story of the caskets,
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where Morocco's suit brings racial conflict to mind, initially when Portia voices her rejection of him in racial terms (before she had even seen him, she said, 'if he haue the condition of a Saint, and the complexion of a diuell' (I.ii.123-124), and then at Morocco's entry, where, having sensed her racial bias, he says,
Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne,
To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred.
(II.i.1-3)
He goes on to point out that his virtue cannot be assessed by his appearance, thus relating the conflict between appearance and reality to the theme of racial prejudice. Portia, of course, politely denies her prejudice, but Shakespeare has made his point: she does judge Morocco by his appearance, and we are alerted to the idea of racial prejudice. The stage direction introduces Morocco as 'a tawnie Moore all in white' (II.i.0), thus confirming his skin colour, but also his merit, since white, the colour of purity, is an indication of Morocco's true worth. Despite this, he himself is misled by appearance into choosing the wrong casket, as its scroll reproachfully informs him, 'All that glisters is not gold' (II.vii.65).
It is not until the third chooser, Bassanio, is led to the caskets that we are shown how Portia deals with the conflict between her desire to choose her husband freely and her wish to abide by the terms of her father's will. In this she behaves subtly, for she must give the appearance of adhering rigorously to the conditions laid upon her, and if the three scenes in which choices are made are examined, her means of evading her father's restrictions will become clear. In the first two scenes, Portia seems content to allow the suitors to make their own choices, confident that they will choose wrongly - although it should not be forgotten that she did suggest 'a deepe glasse of Reinish-wine on the contrary casket' (I.ii.91-92) might secure her freedom in the case of the German suitor. Bassanio's scene has one important difference from the two which go before it: a song is sung while he selects his casket. Instrumental music alone might have assisted Bassanio in making his choice, by creating a suitably meditative atmosphere; but the words of the song are more direct, not actually stating which casket to choose, but guiding Bassanio, by means of clues, inevitably to the correct choice. In making Portia aid Bassanio, Shakespeare took the lead offered him by one of his sources, Ser Giovanni Fiorentino's Il Pecorone, the
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first story of the fourth day, in which one of the serving maids tells Giannetto the rich lady's secret, enabling him to obtain her. 3.100 Portia's clues lie in the song, a meditation on the theme of 'fancy', giving a clear warning to beware of mere appearances, a hint taken up by Bassanio when he deliberates on which casket to choose:
So may outward showes be least themselues
The world is still deceiu'd with ornament.
(III.ii.73-74)
This clue is confirmed by the words contained in the casket itself:
You that choose not by the view
Chance as faire, and choose as true.
(III.ii.131-132)
Quiller-Couch sees the character of Bassanio as inconsistently portrayed: 'he would not have chosen the leaden casket'; 3.101 however, if we accept that Portia guides him in his choice the inconsistency falls away. Schönfeld has noted some remarkable parallels between Hebrew and English words and names in the play, and suggests that the song is likely to have had a Hebrew original, complete with clues pointing to the leaden casket; 3.102 Dover Wilson has observed the clues given by the rhymes with 'lead' in the first stanza, and the association of the funeral bell in the second stanza with the lead in which bodies were buried; 3.103 Freud, noting parallels in mythology, associates the third casket with Death, 3.104 the choice of which Empson sees as a fundamental acceptance of 'mere humanity' before the desired wish can be granted. 3.105 Portia's clues are intimately connected with the dramatic function of the third casket, which embodies the conflict between appearance and reality, being the poorest in appearance, but containing the greatest reward, being associated with death, but giving life. Her subtle hints enable her to give the appearance of submitting to her father's will, while in reality she dissembles. What Shakespeare has done in superimposing the conflict between appearance and reality on the other conflicts embodied in the casket story is to give these scenes added interest, since we watch not only the almost mechanically logical process of choosing, but anticipate as well the relating of the legends on the caskets to their contents (reconciling appearance with reality). Portia's devious submission to her father's will also holds our attention with its clever, hypocritical use of appearance and reality.
The central conflict of the play, that between Shylock and the
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Christian community, also involves deceptive appearances. A play about a Jewish usurer who threatens the life of a Christian would have been greeted with preconceived ideas by Elizabethan audiences (and, regrettably, subsequent ones as well). The Jew must be a villain and the Christians virtuous. Usury was the subject of much invective in contemporary writings, seen, for example, in Kydd's The Housholders Philosophie, where usury is
an arteficiall gayne, a corrupter of Common wealth, a disobeyer of the Lawes of God, a Rebell and resister of all humaine orders, iniurious to manie, the spoile of those that most vphold it, onely profitable to it selfe, more infectious than the pestilence, and consorted with so many perilous euils as are hard or neuer to be cured. 3.106
In Kydd's The Spanish Tragedie: or, Hieronimo Is Mad againe the Ghost of Andrea consigns usurers to hell,
Where bloudie furies shakes their whips of steele,
And poore Ixion turnes an endles wheele;
Where vsurers are choakt with melting golde.
(Spanish Tragedy I.i.65-67) 3.107
A good example of the devious, merciless usurer in Elizabethan drama is the one in A Looking Glasse, for London and England by Greene and Lodge: the usurer's hair-splitting deprives Thrasibulus of his lands and Alcon of his cow, his only means of support. This engages the sympathy of the audience for the victims, particularly as Thrasibulus is in the act of offering to pay the principal when the clock strikes the hour of forfeit; but the usurer is unmoved:
... it was to be paid betweene three and foure; and now the clocke hath strooken foure, I will receiue none, Ile stand to the forfeyt of the recognizance.
(A Looking Glass I.iii.323-325)
Nor was the Jew any better off than the usurer in Elizabethan writings, where the most famous Jewish villain is Barabas in Marlowe's The Jew of Malta. Initially there may be audience sympathy for Barabas, as he and the entire Jewish community are plainly wronged in having all their wealth forfeited to the state. Any compassion is dispelled, however, as Barabas perpetrates one enormity after another: he arranges for Lodowick and Mathias to kill each other; he poisons his daughter and a whole convent of nuns; he kills Friar Barnardino and plots the deaths of Calymath and the entire Turkish army, but is caught in his own stratagems and boiled to death in a cauldron. Drabble identifies Barabas as 'one of
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the prototypes for unscrupulous Machiavellian villains in later Elizabethan and Jacobean drama', 3.108 and we may speculate that it was in anticipation of encountering such a villain that the original audiences approached The Merchant of Venice, particularly as the Quarto of 1600 actually advertised 'the Extreame Crueltie of Shylocke the Iewe towards the Sayd Merchant, in Cutting a Iust Pound of His Flesh'.
Shylock does not live up to these expectations, however. Coriat has shown that his character, from the psychologist's point of view, is not distinctively Jewish, since any man, Christian or Jew, would have behaved the same way as Shylock did, given his circumstances and psychological make-up. 3.109 What this points to is Shylock's humanity, and Shakespeare is careful to show that Shylock is human; but it is inescapable that he also represents a national type: he is a Jew and is given the personal traits which Shakespeare thought characteristic of Jews. These may be summarised as an intensely religious national pride, astuteness and thrift in matters of finance, and close family bonds - and in all of these Shylock is at odds with the Christians. Both religious national pride and thrift are conveyed in the interview Shylock holds with Bassanio: Shylock carefully considers Antonio's ventures and wishes to meet him, but he flatly rejects Bassanio's invitation to dinner:
... I will buy with you, sell with you, talke with you, walke with you, and so following: but I will not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you.
(I.iii.30-33)
Bassanio's gesture was an offer of friendship: here the dinner would have had the usual significance, representing harmony between the diners. Shylock cannot accept this offer: as his reference to 'porke' (I.iii.29) implies, he is bound to abide by the laws of his religion; but his rejection goes further than this by displaying open animosity, when he refers to 'the habitation which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell into' (I.iii.29-30). The full force of Shylock's hatred with its religious and financial basis is revealed in an aside when Antonio enters:
I hate him for he is a Christian:
But more, for that in low simplicite
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of vsance here with vs in Venice.
(I.iii.37-40)
Shylock goes on to say that if the opportunity arises, he will take
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revenge on Antonio, 'feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him' (I.iii.42), because 'He hates our sacred Nation' (I.iii.43). The words 'ancient' and 'sacred' point to the religious basis of Shylock's animosity, justifying his feelings, even if only to himself.
This hatred of Shylock's is not unreciprocated: Antonio is equally antagonistic, ignoring Shylock's greeting, 'Rest you faire good signior' (I.iii.54), and then spelling out his abhorrence of Shylock's practice of usury. Shylock, possibly to strengthen his bargaining position, points out to Antonio how unreasonable his treatment has been:
You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog
And spet vpon my Iewish gaberdine,
All for vse of that which is mine owne.
(I.iii.106-108)
Shylock's appeal to reason meets with a totally unreasonable reply, fuelled by hate:
I am as like to call thee so againe,
To spet on thee againe, to spurne thee too.
(I.iii.125-126)
Shylock ignores this, however, and still trying to reduce the tension between them, makes his position clear:
I would be friends with you, and haue your loue,
Forget the shames that you haue staind me with,
Supplie your present wants, and take no doite
Of vsance for my moneys ....
(I.iii.134-137)
This is a significant gesture, for usury is one of the main causes of the conflict between Shylock and Antonio: Shylock stands to gain nothing in lending Antonio money without charging interest, unless he can count a better relationship with Antonio as a gain. What can be made, then, of the 'merrie sport' (I.iii.141) of Shylock's bond for the pound of flesh? Bullough points out that such bonds were recognised in ancient Rome, 3.110 while Hegedüs maintains that even in the English renaissance 'bodily mutilation could be stipulated' as a penalty for failing to pay a debt. 3.111 The threat of Shylock's bond was therefore a very real one, but it could not have been made with any thought to its execution: Shylock would know that Antonio's fortunes were all at sea, but safely distributed in many different vessels in different parts of the world. This aspect of Antonio's security is not to be found in Shakespeare's
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sources: 3.112 Shakespeare, by multiplying the number of ships, reduces the idea of Antonio's ruin to an absurdity. The motivation for the bond came originally from Antonio, who would not expect Shylock to lend money without some kind of security; Shylock, to show his good intentions, trying to reduce hostility, does not stipulate a bond which would be of any value if it were to become payable. Instead, he proposes what Charlton describes as 'a sort of extravagant parody of the contractual forfeits customary in bonds', 3.113 something as ridiculous as the idea that it will ever be claimed.
To what extent good relations are maintained after the bond has been agreed to may be seen when Shylock accepts an invitation to dine with Bassanio. Here the feast represents harmony only in appearance, for mistrust and hate seethe below the surface:
I am not bid for loue, they flatter me,
But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon
The prodigall Christian.
(Q II.v.13-15)
To point the discord underlying the feast, Shylock remarks 'I haue no minde of feasting forth to night' (II.v.37), and his intuitive mistrust is well founded: according to carefully formulated plans which are revealed in snatches in the three preceding scenes, 3.114 Bassanio will feast his best friends along with Shylock, during which time Jessica will proceed with her robbery, afterwards going with Lorenzo to the feast to publicly shame Shylock. This scheme marks Jessica and her Christian friends as agents of disorder, for although it is only Shylock they are cheating (he is considered fair game, being both a Jew and a usurer), their plot must lead to an increase in tension and hostility between the Jewish and Christian communities. The audience will sense this, and so it comes as some relief when a change of wind forestalls the last part of the scheme, the public shaming of Shylock.
The episode puts Jessica, and that other deserter of Shylock, Launcelot, among the least attractive characters of the play. Launcelot's first scene is comic, and shows him preparing to leave Shylock's service after a brief debate with his conscience. He complains of being 'famisht in his seruice' (II.ii.101-102), which is yet another indication of animosity using food imagery, and Shylock himself relates Launcelot's dismissal to his consumption of food, although his attitude in doing so is less hostile than patronising:
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The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder:
Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day
More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me.
(II.v.45-47)
To this Shakespeare must have anticipated a stock response from his audience, for both usurers and Jews were thought typically to starve their servants. Barabas in The Jew of Malta, when buying a slave, dismisses one that is well-built:
... I must haue one that's sickly, and be but for sparing vittles: 'tis not a stone of beef a day wil maintaine you in these chops; let me see one that's somewhat leaner.
(Jew of Malta 887-890) 3.115
Similarly, in Webster's New Characters (Drawne to the Life) of Seuerall Persons, in Seuerall Qualities, 'A Divellish Usurer' is described in these terms:
The Table he keepes is able to starve twenty tall men; his servants have not their living, but their dying from him; and that's of Hunger. 3.116
Shakespeare's intention in eliciting a stock response to Shylock, which would have him classified as a typical Jew or usurer, is to question the response: Shylock's qualifying clause, 'The patch is kinde enough', considerably softens the harshness of Launcelot's dismissal, and we are made to examine our prejudices. Similarly, the brutal humour of Launcelot's joke in which he deceives his father into thinking he is dead forces us to reassess our sympathy for the servant. Gobbo's distress at this news is pathetic, giving the joke a decidedly sour taste - but its function is to demonstrate for the audience a father's dependence on his son. Gobbo's apparent loss of Launcelot prefigures Shylock's loss of Jessica, but just as Launcelot is blind to his father's suffering, so the whole Christian community is indifferent to Shylock's when Jessica runs away. Jessica, in her turn, is also unfeeling towards her father. Her only objection to him seems to be his sober-mindedness, and for this she finds the clowning Launcelot a relief:
Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell
Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse.
(II.iii.2-3)
There is some slight remorse in
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Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me
To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe,
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners ...
(II.iii.16-19)
but further than this she does not consider the implications of her actions. As in the case of the disagreement between Launcelot and Shylock, Shakespeare uses the conflict with Jessica to invite the audience to question their attitudes to the principal characters.
What Jessica has done, in fact, is to motivate Shylock's passion for revenge, which has been dormant since it was mentioned in the third scene of the play - despite what Jessica says about it in Belmont. 3.117 Smith has noted that Shylock's daughter, like Antonio's additional ships, does not appear in the sources, 3.118 and so one reason for including Jessica in the play could have been to make Shylock's terrible revenge more credible. Whether it was his daughter or his ducats that Shylock grieved for most, or both in equal proportion, is immaterial, since Jessica is responsible for both the theft and the distress it causes. The account of Shylock's miseries given by Solanio and Salerio is comic, but the nature of what they reveal qualifies the humour, making it serve to highlight the heartlessness of the Christian community generally. Colman sees in the bawdy reference by Solanio to Shylock's 'two stones, two rich and precious stones' (II.viii.20) stolen by Jessica 'a symbolic father-castration'; 3.119 this would imply a removal from Shylock of not merely his virility, but also the very force which sustains his life. There are echoes of this later on, where Shylock indicates the importance of Jessica to his well-being:
Shy.
My owne flesh and blood to rebell.
Sol.
Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeeres.
Shy.
I say my daughter is my flesh and bloud.
(III.i.31-33)
Solanio's bawdy quibble, yet another example of Christian indifference to Shylock's suffering (and this before he has even thought of Antonio's bond and revenge), expresses his incredulity that Shylock, an old man, should be sexually active, making Shylock's association of his 'flesh and blood' with Jessica ironic. The final, most poignant, of the insults to Shylock in this vein comes when Tubal relates how Jessica had, for a monkey, exchanged his ring, given him by his wife, Leah, before their marriage. The ring is an affirmation of Shylock's love for Leah, and is
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thus related to his sexual vigour and fertility; the monkey (as I have noted earlier in this chapter) 3.120 is associated with sexual activity, and so what Jessica has done in effect is to remove the life force from Shylock in establishing the productivity of her own marriage. Shortly after this has been told him by Tubal, Shylock goes to the synagogue, presumably to take the oath of vengeance he refers to later:
I haue sworne an oath that I will haue my bond:
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause,
But since I am a dog, beware my phangs.
(III.iii.5-7)
This is the second scene in which Shylock has referred to the Christians' calling him a dog; of the earlier occurrence of the dog image, Spurgeon says
... it is the outcome of his deepest feeling, and sums up symbolically in itself the real and sole reason for his whole action - bitter rancour at the contemptuous treatment he has received, and desire for revenge. 3.121
This interpretation is confirmed by Shylock's second reference, where he extends the image to include his 'phangs' with which he will inflict revenge.
At this point the conflict between Shylock and the Christians has reached its highest intensity before the trial scene. Shakespeare shows the initial, sustained hatred with which both Jew and Christian have learned to live, somewhat tempered by Shylock's generous offer to help Antonio on favourable terms. This fragile, superficial peace is shattered by the callous actions of the Christians in robbing Shylock, and by Jessica's flight, and as a result of this and the persistent, insensitive goadings of the Christians, Shylock is finally driven to his vow of revenge. The violence of the bond, at first intended by Shylock as a joke, a parody of a conventional bond, has now become an intolerably vicious reality, aptly expressed in Gratiano's transformation of the dog image:
Thy currish spirit
Gouern'd a Wolfe, who hang'd for humane slaughter,
Euen from the gallowes did his fell soule fleet:
And whil'st thou layest in thy vnhallowed dam,
Infus't it selfe in thee: For thy desires
Are Woluish, bloody, steru'd, and rauenous.
(IV.i.133-138)
The conflict between Shylock and Antonio becomes the centre of a moral
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dilemma: it is quite unthinkable that men should be allowed to behave as Shylock intends to in demanding his bond, but the law permits it; and, as Antonio stresses, there are very good reasons for upholding the law:
The Duke cannot deny the course of law:
For the commoditie that strangers haue
With vs in Venice, if it be denied,
Will much impeach the iustice of the State,
Since that the trade and profit of the citty
Consisteth of all Nations.
(III.iii.26-31)
Paradoxically, Shylock's insistence on his rights at law must be interpreted as a form of disorder, since in no civilised, ordered society would such a forfeit be allowed. This disorder can be traced back to the conflict between the races, enhanced by Jessica's turning against her father; and so when the trial begins, the possibility of a harmonious resolution is remote, since racial tension and prejudice will ensure that conflict is perpetuated.
Two things are emphasised when the trial begins: firstly, that Shylock will not show any mercy by relinquishing his right to a pound of Antonio's flesh, and secondly, that Shylock has the law on his side. The impasse is summed up by the Duke and Shylock:
Du.
How shalt thou hope for mercie, rendring none?
Iew.
What iudgement shall I dread doing no wrong?
(IV.i.88-89)
Shylock's stubborn refusal to show mercy and Antonio's willingness to sacrifice his life for his friend according to Christ's dictum, 'Greater loue then this hathe no man, when any man bestoweth his life for his friends' (John 15:13), point to an allegorical interpretation of the conflict as a clash between the Old Law and the New. 3.122 The Mosaic law of the Old Testament insisted on strict justice, 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth' (Matthew 5:38), 3.123 while the New Testament required mercy, 'whosoeuer shall smite thee on thy ryght cheke, turne to him the other also' (Matthew 5:39). While in the trial Shylock is unequivocally an advocate of the Old Law, it should not be forgotten that his previous behaviour in suffering the insults and abuse of the Christians without actively taking revenge (although this was contemplated) tended more to Christ's teaching of mercy: referring to Antonio's maltreatment, Shylock says
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Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug,
(For suffrance is the badge of all our Tribe.)
(I.iii.104-105)
This emphasises the difficulty of living by the New Law, and the inner conflict suffered by Shylock in patiently bearing abuse, but feeling the need for revenge, should not be underestimated. His intransigence at the trial represents the cumulative result of years of suffering, finally pushed beyond endurance by the cruel robbery and the absconding of Jessica. The Duke, Bassanio and lastly Portia, in her famous speech, all plead with Shylock to show mercy, to no avail: Shylock's hate has made him immune to reason, reduced his previous patience to an animal-like passion for revenge, making Gratiano's comparison with a wolf apt. 3.124
Shylock's stance demanded a rigorous application of the medieval Exchange Law, ius strictum; 3.125 what the Venetians required was ius aequum, the more humane approach of Mercantile Law which was evolved in the Renaissance. 3.126 This conflict between ius strictum and ius aequum had a direct relevance to Elizabethan England, where ius strictum was administered by the courts of law, but the courts of equity, or Chancery, tempered this with ius aequum. 3.127 MacKay has pointed to the conflict between the courts of law and equity in a case in which Elizabeth herself was concerned, 3.128 and which resulted in the establishment of a rule whereby Chancery had no right to review judgements already passed in the law courts. The question arises, then, as to which type of law Portia was applying in Shylock's case: Hegedüs sees her judgement as 'an application of the principles of ius aequum', 3.129 while MacKay sees the Duke's court as a court of law, in which Portia would use the principle 'Expressio unius est exclusio alterius: one expressed thing excludes another'. 3.130 Bassanio's plea for a judgement under ius aequum,
Wrest once the Law to your authority.
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
(IV.i.211-212)
meets with a response from Portia which seems to relate directly to the conflict between law and equity courts in Elizabeth's case, in which it was decided that equity had no jurisdiction in cases already heard at law:
It must not be, there is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established.
(IV.i.214-215)
Portia's use of the Expressio unius est exclusio alterius principle would then be necessary to achieve the same results as ius aequum might have achieved, but in a court of law: 'The words expresly are a pound of flesh' (IV.i.303), with the exclusion, therefore, of any blood.
When Portia awards her judgement she resolves the conflict between ius strictum and ius aequum which the court had been unable to do, thus relieving the Duke of his terrible dilemma, how to save Antonio without breaking the law. It would have been quite possible for Shakespeare to allow Portia, once Shylock had decided not to take his bond, to let him go with the nine thousand ducats Bassanio has ready, or perhaps only his principal - but this would have left Shylock's crime, his inhuman demand for Antonio's flesh, unpunished. In order to punish Shylock, Portia proceeds to apply the letter of the law, which demands that, since he, an alien, had attempted to harm Antonio, he should forfeit his goods, half to the state, half to Antonio, and that his life should lie at the Duke's mercy. The Duke, recognising the severity of the punishment, grants Shylock his life (as he must in a comedy). 3.131 This is a Christian act of charity befitting one who had earlier begged Shylock to show mercy himself. Significantly, at no stage during the trial scene has Antonio asked for mercy, and so he owes none now: the conflict between the Jew and Christian, still unresolved, prompts him to exact the harshest penalty from Shylock, that 'He presently become a Christian' (IV.i.383). The same punishment was promised to Barabas in The Jew of Malta if he did not yield his fortune to the state, and in both instances the Elizabethans would have regarded the conversion to Christianity as the enforced salvation of a heathen - a truly merciful correction of the offender. Shylock accepts this penalty, leaving the stage a broken man, deprived of his fortune, his daughter and his religion. Antonio's cruel sentence of the Jew and Gratiano's insistent and unfeeling cries of triumph completely destroy any sense of justice which the audience may have had at the outcome of the trial, and so once again Shakespeare makes use of conflict to bring the audience to question accepted standards of behaviour.
Moody has observed an allegorical significance in the blood which Shylock may not shed in cutting his pound of flesh: it is associated with the blood shed by Christ, and so 'perfectly represents the love the Christians deny' Shylock. 3.132 In insisting that Shylock embrace the principles of Christianity, learning to show mercy and love, Antonio is denying these very principles himself. Portia's judgement in awarding
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Shylock his bond is an adherence to ius strictum; her prohibition that any blood be shed in the cutting of the flesh relies on ius aequum; while both of these judgements are necessary to maintain order within Venice, the final application of ius strictum, justified if the need to punish Shylock is acknowledged, denies the place of love and mercy in the administration of justice. Mahood diminishes the importance of the legal aspects of the trial, saying that what Shakespeare 'was pursuing was not legal theory but dramatic effect'. 3.133 This is true, but part of the dramatic effect he achieved relied on the legal quibbles surrounding law and equity, and their manipulation by Portia is yet another instance in which the Christians are seen in an unfavourable light.
At the end of the trial all that remains is for Portia and Nerissa to be reunited with their husbands, which Shakespeare could have achieved without even changing the scene. However, the central conflict of the play, between Jew and Christian, has not been resolved in such a way as to create a permanent, lasting harmony. Antonio's life has been saved and Shylock has consented to the conditions imposed on him in his defeat, but the hatred which gave rise to the conflict has not diminished. To give the play a comic conclusion, the animosities of Venice have to be cast aside and a further episode devised which emphasises the harmony between the newly married couples. Shakespeare achieved this by returning the action to Belmont and including the comic business of the rings which he found in Il Pecorone. 3.134 Quiller-Couch observed the harshness of the Venetian part of the play and supposed that Shakespeare 'consciously and deliberately opposed Belmont (the Hill Beautiful) as the residence of that better part of the Renaissance its "humanities," its adoration of beauty, its wistful dream of a golden age', 3.135 but I think this confuses the real Belmont with the visions of harmony expressed at the start of the final scene. It should not be forgotten that Belmont is where Portia exhibits her racial prejudice in the suit of Morocco, and it is also where she artfully ensures that Bassanio chooses the right casket. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that Belmont is a better place than Venice, and it is significant that all the lovers and even Launcelot end up there, taking refuge from the harsh realities of Venice.
The scene opens in moonlight, here an equivocal image of fertility - equivocal because it soon becomes apparent that not one of the classical allusions cited by the lovers represents a bond of faithful, productive love: Troilus and Cressida; Pyramus and Thisbe; Dido and Aeneas; Jason and Medea - all their stories of love have tragic endings, and to the
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list the lovers add their own names, Lorenzo and Jessica. Shortly after this we hear that Portia's arrival is expected, but
... she doth stray about
By holy crosses where she kneeles and prayes
For happy wedlocke houres.
(V.i.30-33)
This reinforces the idea of Belmont as less than perfect because even here the harmony of marriage is not assured, but must be prayed for. It is also an ironical reminder that the first domestic upheaval is about to take place: we know as well as Portia that she will shortly demand of Bassanio what has become of her ring and we anticipate an amusing conflict despite her prayers at 'holy crosses'. Before the quarrel starts, however, we have the most beautiful words in the play, Lorenzo's evocation of celestial harmony, the music of the spheres. The meditation closes:
such harmonie is in immortal soules,
but whilst this muddy vesture of decay
dooth grosly close it in, we cannot heare it.
(Q.V.i.63-65)
The implication here is clear: perfect harmony cannot be attained on earth, and whatever harmony we may establish, such as that at the close of this play, has its blemishes. Shylock is not reconciled with the Christians; Antonio loses Bassanio; the other characters in the play may achieve a modicum of happiness, but their own imperfections prevent it from being perfect. Music, however, remains the image of perfect harmony, as seen in the remarks which follow:
Iessi.
I am neuer merry when I heare sweet musique.
Lor.
The reason is, your spirits are attentiue.
(V.i.69-70)
As Lorenzo explains, music has the power to induce an ecstasy of harmony in the hearer, be it man, animal or even inanimate objects; this state is quite the opposite of Jessica's 'merry', which is light-hearted, frivolous: she cannot be 'merry' because her 'spirits are attentiue', in an ecstasy of harmony. This does not alter the fact that the attainment of perfect harmony as a real state of existence (not merely induced by listening to music) is not possible in 'this muddy vesture of decay'.
When Portia and Nerissa enter they expand on the theme, comparing candlelight with moonlight, and, more pointedly, music heard by day with
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that by night; the song of the crow with that of the lark; and that of the nightingale with that of the wren. Portia's point is that 'Nothing is good ... without respect' (V.i.99), there are no absolute values of good and bad, merit must be judged in the context of circumstances. When Portia applies this idea to music, she is suggesting that we must regard our imperfect harmony as perfect, since it is the best we can manage. This notion deals with the problem of the unsatisfactory resolution of the conflict between Antonio and Shylock: we must accept whatever harmony has been achieved, flawed though it may be. This is the philosophy of Belmont, an imperfect world, and Shakespeare's point is that it must also be ours. The Merchant of Venice deals with unpleasant issues in the real world, and it does not resort to improbable, fantastic or romantic means to sort out its complications, but leaves them in the best state it can, consistent with the real world. There is no Puck 'To sweep the dust behind the door'; there are no fairies to purge folly with their pinching. This is not to imply that the story itself is not improbable: Johnson found it 'wildly incredible', 3.136 while Granville-Barker regarded it as 'a fairy tale', 3.137 judgements with which we must agree; but Shakespeare applied his tale to the problems of real life with its imperfections and conflicts intact.
Once the philosophical passage which opens the fifth act comes to a close, the quarrel concerning the rings breaks out. There is much bawdy and ironic humour in the episode, Bassanio and Portia's arguments being comically duplicated by Gratiano and Nerissa. Despite the light-hearted presentation of the conflict and its frequently bawdy quibbles, it becomes obvious that the rings are tokens of marital fidelity to be taken seriously, not to be parted with lightly. It is at Antonio's insistence that Bassanio surrenders the ring, and Adelman perceptively says that this can be related to the conflict between love and friendship: Antonio
demands that heterosexual love in effect be sacrificed to friendship, a 'sacrifice' that Bassanio himself had been eager to make during the trial ... the struggle over the ring thus becomes a struggle over possession of Bassanio. 3.138
Ironically, though, Bassanio actually hands the ring to Portia, thus apparently submitting to the demands of friendship while in reality affirming his ties with his wife. Antonio's final bid for Bassanio's friendship fails, but only because Portia intervenes, cleverly winning back her husband by making him realise what he could have lost - her love. The careful observer will inevitably recall one of the more
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pathetic moments of the play, when Shylock is told how Jessica (who passively watches the present conflict) exchanged his ring for a monkey; but even if this reminder goes unnoticed, Shakespeare insists on recalling the unhappy figure of Shylock in the dying moments of his comedy. Antonio's ships are miraculously restored, just as they had been destroyed earlier; and Lorenzo and Jessica are told of their good fortune, that they will inherit all Shylock's possessions. The restoration of the ships releases Bassanio from any obligation he may have felt towards Antonio, now a solitary, sad figure, who, like Shylock, mars the joys of the comic resolution. The final harmony achieved, with its promise of fertility, is figured in the restoring of the rings; but its fragility is aptly expressed in the bawdy couplet which closes the play:
Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring.
(V.i.306-307)
The Merchant of Venice is the most violent of the three plays I have dealt with in this chapter, although, remarkably, there is no physical violence presented on the stage. Instead there is the violence implicit in the racial conflict between Antonio and Shylock, with their ill-disguised hatred showing itself in the language they use to each other, and such actions as Antonio's spitting on Shylock. Shylock is violently wronged in being robbed and then deserted by his daughter, both of which serve as the subjects of taunts from the Christians. In return Shylock demands his forfeit, which, if granted, would do violence to Antonio, probably resulting in his death. Venetian society is too civilised to give physical expression to its latent violent hostilities, but these are effectively expressed in the often passionate dialogue, an admirable vehicle to portray the social tension and disorder which can arise from racial hatred.
The Merry Wives of Windsor is also a play of considerable violence, but unlike that in The Merchant of Venice, violence is either entirely comic, as in the encounters of Caius with Simple in the closet, or Evans in the fields; or it is constructive in its effect. Constructive violence is found in the three violent episodes in which
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Falstaff is punished in order to cure him of his lechery, and although this is its main aim, it also results in harmony being restored between the married couples, as well as Anne Page being happily married to Fenton. At no stage in this play does violence threaten to mar the comic action, despite its actual presentation on stage. Whenever it appears, Shakespeare contrives to soften its effect, either by making it comic, or in the case of Falstaff's final punishment, by the mode of presentation, as a masque.
Violence is also an important feature of A Midsummer Night's Dream, where it is seen as the inevitable consequence of the upsetting of natural order. This takes two forms in the play: disobedience to parental commands, and female domination, unacceptable in a male-dominated society. What little stage violence is required is heavily muted: Lysander and Demetrius never actually come to blows in the forest, while Hermia is intent on physically assaulting Helena but never quite succeeds. The intended violence in both cases is comic, often provoking laughter, and anticipation of further violence heightens audience expectation; but the conflicts between the lovers are expressed largely in patterned speech which reduces the impact of any threats made. The deaths of Pyramus and Thisbe in the final act are presented as a comic parody of the play's central conflicts. It is evident here as well as in the other two plays I have been considering that Shakespeare carefully controlled violence in these comedies: only The Merry Wives of Windsor does not contain a serious threat of death, and yet it is the play with the most stage violence. In the case of A Midsummer Night's Dream stage violence could not be allowed to mar the comic action, while in The Merchant of Venice the dramatist gives a strong impression of violence in the dialogue with little actually being required on the stage. In this case his serious theme, racial conflict, was given sway over the lighter, comic aspects of the play, resulting in a corresponding diminution of the final harmony achieved.
All three plays feature conflict and disorder prominently. In A Midsummer Night's Dream only Theseus and Hippolyta are exempted from the conflict and disorder of the entanglements of the central action. Disorder motivates the characters in two levels of the plot: Hermia is guilty of a breach of order in disobeying parental authority, and Titania disregards the wishes of Oberon. The second of these conflicts with authority has the more serious consequences, as dissension in the fairy world leads to natural disasters which have repercussions in the human
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world. The night of chaos in the forest gives expression to these disorders while also enabling harmony and order to be restored by Oberon. In The Merry Wives of Windsor parental opposition to young love is once again encountered, but here the disobedience of Anne Page is not the centre of focus. Instead our attention is drawn to Falstaff as an agent of disorder. He, like Shylock, is an outsider, not fully accepted by the play's community. Nevertheless, unlike Shylock, he is a comic figure, and so he is finally integrated into Windsor society by means of the punishments he receives. Shylock, by contrast, is quite different from any character met with in Shakespearean comedy so far. He takes on tragic dimensions and his conflict with the Christian community is so profound, so deeply rooted, that it is never satisfactorily resolved. Not only does he inspire hatred in the Christian community, but his own daughter is so opposed to his miserliness and usury that she deserts him and joins the Christians. This is a variation on the theme of disobedience to parents in matters of love, differing from previous cases in that there is no harmonious resolution of the conflict. Egeus accepts Lysander at the end of A Midsummer Night's Dream and the Pages are content with Fenton in The Merry Wives of Windsor; but Jessica and Lorenzo, far from winning Shylock's approval, not only retain all they had stolen from him, but also stand to inherit the residue of his fortune when he dies - generosity enforced on the Jew as a part of his punishment. This imperfect resolution is hardly compensated for by the happiness achieved by Portia and Bassanio, because it, too, has its price: Antonio is deprived of his friend, a loss but feebly redressed by the recovery of his fortune.
Elements of disorder or unresolved conflicts are found in all the comedies dealt with so far, 3.139 but none matches the extreme case of The Merchant of Venice, the first of several Shakespearean comedies to bear the weight of tragedy. It is also the first comedy in which Shakespeare goes out of his way to raise serious moral issues other than those involved in the maintenance of divine order with its implied masculine domination and absolute parental authority. In The Merchant of Venice we are invited to assess the behaviour of the Christian community towards Shylock: they treat him reprehensibly, their hatred and prejudice being important factors in the central conflict between Jew and Christian. In addition to this there is Portia's duplicity in administering her father's will, and once we have seen this, her behaviour at the trial is found to be in character - devious, and
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motivated by self-interest in the winning and keeping of her husband. Shylock is a figure no less repulsive than the Christians: he wins our sympathy early in the play, but this cannot be sustained in the face of his inhuman demand for revenge. Despite this, we are still distressed at his cruel punishment. Our response to the play is highly ambiguous, and we leave the theatre with a sense of shame for humanity, something not evoked by any of the earlier comedies. 3.140
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- - - NOTES: CHAPTER THREE - - -
3.93 One likely reason could have been the execution of Roderigo Lopez, a physician to the Queen and possibly acquainted with Shakespeare: see John Palmer, Political and Comic Characters of Shakespeare (London: Macmillan, 1965), pp.401-403. For a vivid account of the execution, depicting the horrifying violence of the times, see Anthony Burgess, Nothing like the Sun: A Story of Shakespeare's Love-Life (London: Heinemann, 1964), pp.126-131. return
3.94 William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, ed. M.M. Mahood (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), p.12. return
3.97 Line numbers are taken from William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, ed. John Russell Brown, 1955; rpt (London: Methuen, 1984). return
3.98 Edmund Kerchever Chambers, Shakespeare: A Survey (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1955, p.106; Brooke, p.134. return
3.99 Chambers, p.117, suggests that Antonio's predicament may reflect Shakespeare's own experiences as revealed in the sonnets. Bill Alexander's R.S.C. production at the Barbican, 1988, went even further, suggesting a homosexual bond between the men. See p.390 for further comments on this production. [return to n.3.140] return
3.100 Bullough, I, 470. return
3.101 Arthur Quiller-Couch, Shakespeare's Workmanship (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1919), p.101 (hereafter cited as Quiller-Couch, Workmanship). Bassanio is marrying for money, so he ought to choose the gold casket. return
3.102 S.J. Schönfeld, 'A Hebrew Source for The Merchant of Venice', ed. Yehuda T. Radday, trans. Daphna Allon, Shakespeare Survey, 32 (1979), 120-121. Schönfeld's argument connects Hebrew words and names. 'Portia' would be written 'PRT' in Hebrew (vowels being unwritten); the Hebrew for 'lead' would be written 'עPRT', where ע is the Hebrew guttural consonant ayin; so when Portia says 'I am lockt in one of them' (III.ii.40), she is indicating lead, עPRT, in which she, PRT, is locked. On top of this the letter ayin is a word in itself, meaning 'eye', and so she, the object of fancy, 'is engendered in the eyes' (III.ii.67). Schönfeld indicates many parallels besides these. return
3.103 Dover Wilson, Comedies, pp.99-100; Dover Wilson maintains, however, that the song suggests to the audience Bassanio's thoughts, not what Portia revealed to him - a rather devious reading. return
3.104 'The Theme of the Three Caskets', Freud, XII, 292 and 295. return
3.105 William Empson, Seven Types of Ambiguity, 3rd ed. (London: Chatto and Windus, 1956), p.44. return
3.106 Householder's Philosophy, p.280 lines 33-38. return
3.107 The edition cited is that of Boas. return
3.108 Margaret Drabble, The Oxford Companion to English Literature, 5th ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), p.509. return
3.109 Isador H. Coriat, 'Anal-Erotic Character Traits in Shylock', International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 2 (1921), 354-360. According to Coriat, Shylock's character is consistent with that of 'a highly developed anal-erotic individual' (p.356). return
3.110 Bullough, I, 446-447. return
3.111 Géza Hegedüs, 'The Merchant of Venice and Problems of Civil Law in the Renaissance', New Hungarian Quarterly, 5 (1964), 39. return
3.112 John Hazel Smith, 'Shylock: "Devil incarnation" or "Poor man ... wronged"?', Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 60 (1961), 13. return
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3.114 II.ii.163-164 and 192-197; II.iii.5-7; II.iv.1-23; and afterwards II.iv.46-48. return
3.115 The edition cited is that of Brooke. return
3.116 This is found in the sixth impression of New and Choise Characters, of Seuerall Authors: Together with That Exquisite and Unmatcht Poem, 'The Wife' (1615). The edition cited is F.L. Lucas, ed., The Complete Works of John Webster, IV vols (London: Chatto and Windus, 1927). A further example of a usurer being frugal with food is found in Munday's Zelauto: Or The Fountain of Fame (1580), in which Truculento 'would scant bestowe on him selfe a good meales meate for expence of money'. (The edition cited is that of Brown, p.158; Brown considers Zelauto a source for The Merchant of Venice.) return
3.117 Jessica states that she had heard Shylock discuss the bond with Tubal and Chus, saying he would rather have Antonio's flesh than twenty times the principal (III.ii.283-287). In this Shakespeare may have been deliberately emphasising Antonio's danger; but in any case, can Jessica's account really be trusted? Professor Ferguson points out that it does, at least, heighten dramatic tension for the audience. return
3.118 Smith, p.15; Smith has not recognised Munday's Zelauto as a source: its usurer, although not a Jew, has a daughter who is won in marriage. See Brown, pp.xxxi and 156-168. return
3.120 See pp.104 and 118. return
3.122 Barbara K. Lewalski, 'Biblical Allusion and Allegory in The Merchant of Venice', Shakespeare Quarterly, 13 (1962), 331; Allan Holaday, 'Antonio and the Allegory of Salvation', Shakespeare Studies, 4 (1969), 109-113; Gary R. Grund, 'The Fortunate Fall and Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice', Studia Neophilologica, 55 (1983), 160-163. return
3.123 This Mosaic injunction is found three times in the Pentateuch: 'Eye for eye, tothe for tothe, hand for hand, fote for fote' (Exodus21:24); 'Breache for breache, eie for eie, to the [sic] for tothe' (Leviticus 24:20); 'Therefore thine eie shal haue no cõpassion (but) life for life, eie for eie, tothe for tothe, hand for hand, fote for fote' (Deuteronomy 19:21). return
3.124 Charles Mitchell, 'The Conscience of Venice: Shakespeare's Merchant', Journal of English and Germanic Philology, 63 (1964), 220; Mitchell associates the dog image not only with loss of humanity but specifically with loss of conscience. return
3.127 Maxine MacKay, 'The Merchant of Venice: A Reflection of the Early Conflict between the Courts of Law and Courts of Equity', Shakespeare Quarterly, 15 (1964), 371. return
3.128 Ibid., pp.371-372. return
3.131 A point made by Professor Ferguson. return
3.132 A.D. Moody, Shakespeare: The Merchant of Venice, Studies in English Literature No.21 (London: Edward Arnold, 1971), p.44. return
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3.134 Bullough, I, 474-476. return
3.135 Quiller-Couch, Workmanship, p.103. return
3.137 Harley Granville-Barker, Prefaces to Shakespeare: Second Series (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1954), p.67. return
3.138 'Male Bonding in Shakespeare's Comedies', found in Peter B. Erickson and Coppélia Kahn, eds, Shakespeare's Rough Magic: Renaissance Essays in Honor of C.L. Barber (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1985), p.80. return
3.139 To summarise briefly: Antipholus of Ephesus and Adriana in The Comedy of Errors recognise their marital problems, but these are not fully resolved in the play, although a happy future is anticipated; Lucentio and Hortensio are married to dominant women in The Taming of the Shrew, ensuring a life of marital conflict; Thurio is an outsider in The Two Gentlemen of Verona; the happy resolution of Love's Labour's Lost is postponed to a time after the conclusion of the play, and is by no means guaranteed; Puck remains an active agent of disorder at the end of A Midsummer Night's Dream and the conflict over the Indian boy is never fully resolved; Caius and Slender in The Merry Wives of Windsor do not take part in the final rejoicing, being denied Anne Page. return
3.140 In Alexander's production (see n.3.99 above) the sense of unresolved conflict was heightened in the shunning, by all those in Belmont, of Jessica, who remained on the stage at the end in the company of a hostile Antonio - both solitary, outcast figures. See p.390. return
Proceed to Chapter Four