broke, as she said, into "downright violence and scorn of fortunes." She "did love the Moor to live with him." Portia, on the contrary, says, "Let all of his complexion choose me so,"—it is a hint of the natural aversion of all natures who are representatives of one distinct type from mixing their love with those of another. But I cannot agree with a criticism of John Quincy Adams to the effect that Shakspeare wrote the tragedy of "Othello" on purpose to show the disastrous consequences of miscegenation. Desdemona's weak point is the only fatality in the play. She began by deceiving her father, and secretly made a match which broke his heart. But if she had not recurred to deceit again, and lied to her husband about the handkerchief, his smouldering jealousy would have never blazed. Want of frankness was her contribution to Iago's plot, the element that made it a success. Portia stood to her oath, and ran all risks.
Portia has the strong sense to expect that the majority of her noble admirers will be taken by appearance. She is not quite sure, but has an instinct, that these gentlemen who are after her are also after her pretty property of Belmont, and will be likely to choose the metals responsive to this temper. Bassanio frankly acknowledges to a friend that he would like to repair his broken fortunes; but Shakspeare shows him to be a lover before he gives this mercenary hint; and he has reason to surmise that Portia loves him. This unspoken mutuality dignifies his quest; as if Shakspeare himself would not admit the charge that he is a fortune-hunter. And it is noticeable how little consequence we attach to Bassanio's character. We do not care to see him in any action, or to have him show a worthiness to be Portia's lover. He is but the lay-figure of her love: there is so much of her that there must be a great deal of him, and he may be spared the trouble of appearing at full length. And we never suspect her of belonging to that tribe of bright women who, either from instinct or calculation, marry good-natured, well-mannered numskulls, and never have reason to sue for a divorce. Shakspeare ennobles Bassanio when the divining soul sees through the leaden lid.
But what if one of the other suitors should also have a noble heart whose pulses feed discernment, one as fine and unconventional as herself! There is just hazard enough to affront her cherishing of the absent Bassanio. She does not relish the moment when her heart, richer than the princes know of, goes into the lottery. However, when her father made his will, it doubtless occurred to her that his choice of metals came from a life's experience of the calibre of the average man, and was meant affectionately to protect her till the true gentleman should come. As Nerissa says, "Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men, at their death, have good inspirations; therefore, the lottery that he hath devised in these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead (whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you) will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one whom you shall rightly love." Fortunate is the man who wins a wife because he chooses Heaven's meaning in a woman! Luckless the wife who is not chosen by some implied Heaven in a man!
The written scrolls which are enclosed in the caskets show that her father anticipated acutely the ordinary motives of mankind. The suitors imagine that they are reflecting in a superior style as they give their reasons for taking to the gold or the silver; but they are realty biased by the common sentiment, as Portia sees:—
"Oh, these deliberate fools! When they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose."
So one by one they slaughter themselves and clear the way.
How Shakspeare's verse celebrates Bassanio's approach to Belmont? It is like a gracious prelude conceived by her secret preference, escaping to guide him to her where she lies under a spell which he must break.
There enters a messenger, sumptuous in blank verse, like the tabard of a herald whose message is desired.