The Merchant of Venice

[AbdurRahim]

The Merchant of Venice opens on a street in Venice, where Antonio, a Venetian merchant, complains of a sadness he can't quite explain. His friends suggest they'd be sad too if they had as much merchandise to worry about as Antonio. Apparently all of his money is tied up in various sea ventures to exotic locales. But Antonio is certain it's not money that's bothering him.
Antonio's friend Bassanio enters the scene, and we learn that Bassanio has been at the forefront of Antonio's mind. Apparently Bassanio just got back from a secret trip to see an heiress named Portia in Belmont. Bassanio financed his trip (and in fact, his entire lifestyle) by borrowing tons of money from Antonio. Portia is beautiful, intelligent, and, most important, rich. If Bassanio could only get together the appearance of some wealth, he would be in a good position to compete with all the other guys vying for Portia's attention. If they marry, he's all set financially. Antonio would be happy to lend Bassanio the money he needs to woo Portia, except, as we know, all of Antonio's money is at sea. The two friends part ways, agreeing that they'll try to raise the funds on Antonio's credit around town.
Meanwhile, even rich heiresses have their troubles. Portia is plagued by suitors from the four corners of the earth but isn't allowed to choose the one she wants. Instead, her father, before his death, devised an unusual test. Three caskets – one gold, one silver, and one lead – are laid out before each suitor, and whoever picks the right one gets the girl. Portia complains about all of the important men who come to see her, as there's something wrong with each of them.
As Portia is trying to figure out how to avoid marrying, Bassanio is trying to figure out how to marry her. He negotiates with the Jewish moneylender, Shylock, asking for 3,000 gold coins (ducats). Bassanio borrows the money on his friend Antonio's credit. Trouble is, Antonio is an anti-Semite (he is prejudiced against Jewish people) and is offensive to Shylock whenever he has the chance. Slyly, Shylock says he'll try out Antonio's method of business by lending him the money interest-free. BUT, this is on the condition that Antonio signs a bond promising that if the debt goes unpaid, Antonio will give Shylock a pound of his own flesh. This seems like a good idea at the time, as Antonio is sure he'll have earned the money from his ships before Shylock's due date.
Before we have time to think about what a crazy idea it is to promise anyone a pound of your flesh, we're back at Belmont learning the rules of the casket game. Choose wrong, and not only do you fail to get Portia, but you cannot marry anyone for the rest of your life. We see suitors fail when they choose the wrong caskets.
Meanwhile, Jessica (Shylock's only child) tells us that living in Shylock's house is pure hell and that she's ashamed to be his daughter. She has decided to elope with Lorenzo and convert to Christianity. Jessica gets her chance to carry out her rebellious scheme when her dad leaves the house to go to have dinner. As soon as he is out the door, Jessica steals off with her lover, Lorenzo, and helps herself to a chunk of Dad's cash.
Bassanio and some of his pals set off for Belmont in hopes that Bassanio will snag the beautiful and rich Portia.
We also learn from some gossipy cats in Venice that Shylock was livid when he learned his daughter ran away, screaming "'My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter! / Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats!" (2.8.2). This is good news for Antonio, who hates Shylock. But Antonio doesn't stay happy for long, as he is too busy recovering from the fact that Bassanio has gone off to woo Portia.
Back in gossipy Venice, we hear that Antonio's ships have been sinking left and right. Shylock shows up, still mad about his daughter's rebellion, but he's excited to hear that he'll get to take a pound of flesh from his enemy Antonio. He explains to the gossipy men that he hates Antonio because Antonio hates him for being Jewish. Shylock then gives a beautiful speech in defense of the humanity of Jews, including the well-known lines, "if you prick us, do we not bleed?" He concludes that a Jew is not unlike a Christian, and a Christian in this situation would seek revenge. Therefore, he will do the same, because the Christians have taught him hatred with their cruelty. Shylock is further angered to hear reports that his daughter is off lavishly spending his money, so he sets up arrangements to have Antonio jailed, cut, and killed.
Back in Belmont, Portia is batting off the men. But she is truly excited by Bassanio. Bassanio impressively chooses the lead casket (correct) and wins Portia and her wealth. Portia is falling all over herself with love for Bassanio when Lorenzo and Jessica arrive with news that Antonio is about to die at Shylock's command. Portia offers to pay off Antonio's debt, and she and Bassanio have a quick (as in shotgun-quick) wedding before she sends Bassanio back to Venice with 20 times the debt owed to Shylock. Portia gives Bassanio a ring and makes him promise never to take it off, which we're sure is going to be significant sometime soon.
Meanwhile, Portia has hatched a plan to cross-dress and pose as a lawyer to argue Antonio's defense at his trial. She tells Lorenzo to look after her house, disguises herself and Nerissa as men, and sets off for Venice in a hurry. Also, Graziano randomly marries Nerissa.
The scene moves to the court in Venice. Everyone has tried to plead with Shylock, but he won't hear reason. He wants justice, and that means having a pound of Antonio's flesh, as promised. It seems there's no hope until a young, effeminate-looking man shows up who happens to be a learned lawyer. He is called Balthazar (a.k.a. Portia).
Portia (as Balthazar) then begins to argue that Shylock should have mercy on Antonio, as mercy is a higher order good than justice. Shylock says he doesn't need mercy, he's fine with just justice, thank you very much. There's no way anyone can get around it – Antonio signed the bond, the Duke won't bend the rules, and Shylock won't relent. Antonio doesn't care if he dies. Bassanio says he wishes he could trade his wife and his life for Antonio's, which does not please his wife, but she doesn't say anything because she's disguised in drag.
Portia (as Balthazar) gets Antonio ready to go under the knife, but she stops just short as Shylock is sharpening his knife. She says the bond entitles Shylock to a pound of flesh, but if he spills a drop of Christian blood, then he'll be guilty of plotting to murder a Venetian Christian, the penalty for which is losing everything he has. Shylock says something like, "Fine, just give me the three-times-the-debt cash you offered me earlier," and Portia replies, "Actually, that offer's not on the table anymore." Then he says, "OK, just give me the 3,000 back," and she returns, "Actually, that's not on the table either."
The slippery downward slope continues until Shylock declares that, fine, he'll just leave, and Portia stops him and says since he conspired to kill a Venetian he actually has to forfeit everything he owns. And beg for his life.
Finally holding the upper hand, Antonio decides that as punishment, Shylock has to sign an agreement saying that when he dies, all his money will go to Jessica and her new Christian husband. Also, Shylock must convert to Christianity. Shylock leaves a broken man.
Portia grabs Nerissa and tries to get home before the men return and find out their wives were the ones in court that day. Antonio and Bassanio try to get Balthazar to accept a gift before he goes, and though Portia (as Balthazar) tries to refuse it, the men press her. She asks for Bassanio's ring (which is really her ring, symbolizing their marriage trust). Bassanio refuses to give it to her, but then Antonio suggests he's whipped and foolish, so Bassanio caves in and gives Balthazar the ring at the last minute.
Finally everyone gets home to Belmont; the women have narrowly arrived before the men. Nerissa launches into a fight with Graziano about the missing ring (as it turns out, she too gave a ring symbolizing marital fidelity), accusing him of giving it to a woman. Portia then lights into Bassanio for the same thing. Portia complains about the men breaking faith for this lawyer guy, and she pledges to sleep with this learned man too, breaking her marriage vows like Bassanio did by giving up her ring.
Antonio has come home to Belmont with them and he feels responsible for the fights. To make up for it he promises his soul as a guarantee that Bassanio will be faithful to Portia. Portia accepts the offer of Antonio's soul and she gives him a ring to give to Bassanio. Turns out it's the original ring. Portia explains that she and Nerissa were the young lawyer and the clerk who rescued Antonio from Shylock. Also, she's got a letter that says some of Antonio's ships have come home with cash after all. The play ends with happiness for most of the characters in the play – all except Shylock.

[Ferdousi Begum]

Is there any link between Law and The Merchant of Venice???


The link between Shakespeare and the law is not new; even a casual perusal of the literature will show that scholars have long realized that the legal discourse can lead to a better understanding of Shakespeare’s works. I submit, however, that the converse is also true: that the study of Shakespeare can lead to a deeper understanding of the fundamental nature of law. A play like The Merchant of Venice has a great deal to offer in the course of such a reading. The action of the play is concerned with contract law, but issues of standing, moiety, precedent, and conveyance are also raised. At the most fundamental level, though, the trial scene in Act IV illustrates the conflict between equity and the strict construction of the law.

Equity, in the legal sense, is “justice according to principles of fairness and not strictly according to formulated law” (Gilbert 103). This definition, while easily understandable, presents us with a problematic – even dangerous - structure of opposition. Law and fairness are set at extreme ends of some continuum of justice, and are exclusive. The definition implies that one can have justice according to “fairness,” or justice according to “formulated law.” Yet if law is not inherently fair, if there is need for a concept of equity, how can the law be said to be fulfilling its purpose? And if “fairness” is not to be found within the confines of “formulated law,” from whence does it come? This is not a new argument, of course; the conflict between law and equity was recognized even in medieval England.

From earliest childhood, we are indoctrinated with a sense of justice, of fairness, of right and wrong. Every schoolyard echoes with cries of “No fair cheating!” We seem to know instinctively that some things are fair, some things are not, and our moral outrage is awakened when injustice is perpetrated.

It is this indignation, this sense that principles of fairness have been violated, that arouse many to question the theories and practices upon which our system of law and justice have been built. Some would claim, for example, that rape is a crime no less egregious than that of murder, and thus call for the execution of convicted rapists. Yet no state allows such execution solely for conviction of rape. It has become a fundamental tenet of American law that the state may not take the life of a felon unless the crime involved the taking of a life; rape alone, while devastating the life of the victim, does not result in death without some intervening act. The search for equity – for fairness – within codified law has led to some bizarre and arcane practices in Western courts; when drunk drivers spend more time in prison than some murderers, this fact becomes painfully apparent.

Equity, in fact, has become so intertwined with law in the justice system that it is difficult to see the lines of demarcation. We must remember, however, that such was not always the case. When Shakespeare wrote The Merchant of Venice, there were actually separate courts in England for the administration of law and equity. One appealed to the Court of Common Law to seek redress under codified law, or to the Court of Equity to avail oneself of the judgment of men. The two spheres were kept strictly separate, and it was not until the reign of James I that courts of law began to consider principles of equity in the resolution of disputes (Keeton 136-37).

In such a system, the terms of forfeiture of a bond, like the one sealed between Shylock and Antonio, fell under the purview of the Courts of Common Law. These courts, in the sixteenth century, relied upon strict construction; that is to say, a literal reading of applicable law and the instruments made to employ such law. A contract, like the one made between Shylock and Antonio, was “fully enforceable at law” (Keeton 136). This means that any penalty stipulated in the contract would be automatically awarded if the contract were not strictly upheld. A delay in repayment of even a single hour would result in any forfeiture that the debtor had agreed to pay. It is this notion of “fully enforceable” contract that leads Portia to proclaim initially that “lawfully by this [contract] the Jew may claim/A pound of flesh” (IV.i.229-30).

The dichotomy between law and equity, between strict construction and principles of fairness, is evident in Shylock’s initial proclamations. The law is on his side, and he knows it. When he states, “I stand here for law” (IV.i.142), and “I crave the law” (IV.i.204), these terms are meant in binary opposition to equity. Shylock seeks a justice based upon vengeance, not “fairness.” He comes armed with a contract strictly enforceable and clings tenaciously to the most literal interpretation possible. It is evident that Shylock intends to wield the law as a weapon against Antonio; when Portia pleads with him to have a doctor stand by to save Antonio’s life, Shylock obstinately refuses on the grounds that “’Ties not in the bond” (IV.i.260).

In contrast to Shylock’s reliance upon strict construction, Portia urges the consideration of principles of equity. She delivers a passionate speech on the need for considerations of humanity in the administration of the law:

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That in the course of justice none of us

Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy (IV.i.196-200).

 

Mercy, or the imposition of basic principles of fairness upon the strict letter of the law, lies at the heart of equity; a modern philosopher might refer to such considerations as “situational ethics.” Portia’s famous speech on the qualities of mercy attributes this capacity in mankind to a higher, divinely inspired form of law:

The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

. . . It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God’s

When mercy seasons justice (IV.i.182-95).

 

Portia thus articulates the fundamental conflict between law and equity; while justice can be found in each separately, there is a better form of justice to be obtained when mercy and fairness become considerations in the administration of the law.

Shylock soon learns, of course, that strict construction is a double-edged sword. When her appeal to equity fails in the force of Shylock’s lust for vengeance, Portia must retreat to the battlefield of law, and here the moneylender is undone. Shylock’s defeat on a legal technicality makes for good drama, but the legalities are based on a false premise, and even here the effects of equity in consideration of law can be seen. Shylock is awarded his pound of flesh, but is enjoined from taking any accompanying blood; since he cannot take the one without spilling the other, he is forced to abjure his forfeiture. It is a tenet of the common law, however, that any granted right must also entail any incidental powers necessary to its exercise. One jurist has likened Portia’s winning argument to a judge granting an easement but denying the right to leave footprints on the ground, since the subsidiary right is not expressly granted in the contract (White 142n1). It is inconceivable that any codification of law could possibly cover all contingencies; that the law is, or even can be, flexible at all is a function of the principle of equity.

Shylock’s punishment, and the evolving response of audiences over the course of four centuries, may also point to a crucial aspect of equity: that fundamental ideals of fairness can change over time to meet societal needs. Shylock comes to court to seek redress for default of a loan; he leaves the trial bereft of all of his property, stripped of his lifelong faith, and very nearly sentenced to death. Contemporary audiences likely would have applauded such a resolution; even a century ago, the world that saw the trial of Alfred Dreyfus would have found Shylock’s treatment at the hands of the law completely fitting. In the post-Holocaust world, however, we recoil with revulsion from any hint of anti-Semitism whatsoever. The punishment of Shylock offends a cultural sensibility that cannot be denied, and political correctness forces us to decry its insinuations even as we applaud its syntax.

The Merchant of Venice is, at its heart, a skillful examination of the tension between law and equity. In the 1980 BBC production, Shylock enters the courtroom carrying a balance, a bit of stage direction that does not appear in the play script (IV.i.15sd). Of course, the obvious inference is that he intends to use the scales to weigh out his forfeiture, a pound of Antonio’s flesh. Yet the scales have long stood as a symbol of justice; Homer’s Iliad may be the first use of this symbol (XXII.249, for example), or it may be even older. If we view the two scales as representing law on one side, and fairness on the other, the point at which they balance is equity. When strict adherence to the law outweighs basic principles of fairness, there can be no justice. Bassanio may have the most poignant statement on the nature of equity when he urges the court to temper justice with fairness; should the law contain no room for mercy, he claims:

It must appear

That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you,

Wrest once the law to your authority.

To do a great right, do a little wrong (IV.i.211-14).