It might be objected that the interval of seven years between the production of the two plays renders it improbable that Shakespeare would have intentionally contrasted his play with Marlowe’s. But the popularity of “The Jew of Malta” exceeded that of any other contemporary play. Although it was not printed till 1604, it was produced in 1588, and references to it in contemporary plays continue to be found until 1609. Owing, besides, to Alleyne’s extraordinary success as Barabas, the play continued to be acted at intervals until 1594, between which date and 1598 Shakespeare had written his own comedy. The setting-off, too, of play against play was a common practice, especially among the early Elizabethan dramatists, and Greene did not hesitate to avail himself of the success of Marlowe’s “Doctor Faustus” to write his “Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay.”
Now in so far as “The Jew of Malta” makes fun of friars and nuns, it would be considered legitimate amusement by a Protestant audience. We have a similar record on the French stage of revolutionary times when as M. Fleury remarks: “All the convents in France were shown up at the theatres, and the surest mode of drawing money to the treasury was to raise a laugh at the expense of the Veil.” But Marlowe goes further than this. He attacks Christianity wantonly and aggressively, not only by portraying Barabas’s contempt for the Christians, but by making the Christians contemptible in themselves, and wanting in all those virtues which were upheld in the newly accessible Gospels. They are without honour and chivalry or any sense of justice or loyalty. They are false and treacherous to Jew and Turk alike, and Barabas can well say of them:
“For I can see no fruits in all their faith,
But malice, falsehood, and excessive pride,
Which methinks fits not their profession.”
Further, the Christians take by force the Jew’s money to pay the city’s tribute to the Turks, which after all is not paid, the Christians keeping the money for themselves. It is but the bare truth that Barabas states when he mutters:
“Who, of mere charity and Christian truth,
To bring me to religious purity,
And as it were in catechising sort,
To make me mindful of my mortal sins,
Against my will, and whether I would or no,
Seized all I had, and thrust me out o’ doors.”
And Marlowe also makes Barabas say, indignant at the Christians’ hypocrisy:
“Is theft the ground of your religion?
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What, bring you scripture to confirm your wrongs?
Preach me not out of my possessions.”
Scepticism is rampant throughout “The Jew of Malta,” and Marlowe flaunts his opinions before a theatre full of Christians. Not that it is contended that Marlowe was himself an atheist, but in “The Jew of Malta” he seems, perhaps out of a spirit of retaliation for the wanton attacks made upon him, to be bent on exposing to ridicule the upholders of the orthodox faith. In Marlowe’s “Faustus” the good angel, the aged pilgrim, and the final repentance satisfy the religious conscience, but his later play has no such compensations. The boast of Barabas that, “some Jews are wicked as all Christians are,” passes unchallenged.
Now it is unlikely that any member of Elizabeth’s Court, any Protestant nobleman who was responsible for upholding the reformed faith, much less that any Catholic, could have been present at the performance of this play without protesting against the poet’s attitude towards Christianity. Nor is it probable that the Lord Chamberlain’s servants would overlook Marlowe’s taunts at the national religion spoken from the citizens’ playhouse. So that the poet-player whose sonnets were being circulated in the houses of the nobility, whose patron was the Earl of Southampton, the friend of Essex, and who had begun to be talked about at Court, might with advantage to himself expose the other side of the picture, and defend the abused Christians.
It remained then for Shakespeare to show that Christians, if they hated the infidel, were not in themselves contemptible. In addition to her many fascinations of mind and person, Portia possesses in an eminent degree a sense of honour and a love of mercy. The obligations imposed upon her by her father are religiously observed. Even when her lover is choosing the caskets, and a glance would have put him out of his misery, her attitude towards him is uncompromising. Later on she upholds the Jew’s plea for justice, while at the same time she urges the more divine attribute of mercy.