So was it with Silas Marner. George Eliot writes: “He was so withered and yellow that though he was not yet forty the children always called him ‘old master Marner.’” However, the language that Shakespeare has put into the mouth of Shylock does not impress us as being that of a man whose physical and mental faculties are in the least impaired by age; so vigorous is it at times that Shylock might be pictured as being an Edmund Kean-like figure, with piercing black eyes and an elastic step. From Shylock’s expression, “the ancient grudge I bear him,” and Antonio’s abrupt manner towards Shylock, we may conclude that the two men are avowed enemies, and have been so for some time previous to the opening of the play. This fact should, from the very first, be made evident to the audience by the emphasis Shylock gives to Antonio’s name, an emphasis that is repeated every time the name occurs till he has made sure there is no doubt about who the man is that shall become bound.
The dramatic purpose of this scene is to show us Shylock directly plotting to take the life of Antonio, and the means he employs to this end are contrived with much skill. Shylock, in his opening soliloquy, discloses his intention to the audience, and at once deprives himself of its sympathy by admitting that his motives are guided more by personal considerations than by religious convictions—
“I hate him for he is a Christian,
But more for that in low simplicity
He lends out money gratis and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.”
The three first scenes should be so acted on the stage as to accentuate in the minds of the audience (1) that Bassanio is the very dear friend of Antonio; (2) that Portia and Bassanio are in love with each other; (3) that Antonio and Shylock are avowed enemies; (4) that Shylock conspires against Antonio’s life with full intent to take it should the bond become forfeit.
We are again at Belmont and witness the entrance of the Prince of Morocco, and the whole scene has a poetic dignity and repose which form a striking contrast to the preceding one. We get in the character of the Prince of Morocco a preliminary sketch of Shakespeare’s Othello, and certainly the actor, to do justice to the part, should have the voice and presence of a Salvini. The second scene shows us the Jew’s man about to leave his rich master to become the follower of Bassanio, and the latter, now possessed of Shylock’s money, preparing his outfit for the journey to Belmont, whither Gratiano also is bent on going. There is, besides, some talk of merrymaking at night-time, which fitly leads up to our introduction to Jessica in the next scene, and prepares us to hear of her intrigue with Lorenzo. Jessica is the third female character in the play, and the dramatist intends her to appear, in contrast to Portia and Nerissa, as a tragic figure, dark, pale, melancholy, demure, yet chaste in thought and in action, and with a heart susceptible of tender and devoted love. She plans her elopement with the same fixedness of purpose as the father pursues his revenge. In Scene 4 the elopement incident is advanced a step by Lorenzo receiving Jessica’s directions “how to take her from her father’s house,” and a little further in the next scene, by Shylock being got out of the way, when we hear Jessica’s final adieu. It is worth noting in this scene that, at a moment when we are ready to sympathize with Shylock, who is about to lose his daughter, the dramatist denies us that privilege by further illustrating the malignancy of the man’s character. He has had an unlucky dream; he anticipates trouble falling upon his house; he is warned by Launcelot that there are to be masques at night; he admits that he is not invited to Bassanio’s feast out of love, but out of flattery, and still he can say—
“But yet I’ll go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian.”
No personal inconvenience must hinder the acceleration of Antonio’s downfall.
In Scene 6 the elopement takes place, but is almost prevented by the entrance of Antonio, whose solemn voice ringing clear on the stillness of the night is a fine dramatic contrast to the whispering of the lovers.
Shakespeare now thinks it time to return to Belmont, and we are shown the Prince of Morocco making his choice of the caskets, and we learn his fate. But he bears his disappointment like a hero, and his dignified retreat moves Portia to exclaim: “A gentle riddance!”
Scene 8 is one of narration only, but the speakers are in an excited frame of mind. The opening lines are intended to show that Antonio was not concerned in the flight of Jessica, and our interest in his character is further strengthened by the touching description of his farewell to Bassanio.