Venice, asks for a supply of money to enable him to prosecute his love-suit, and Ansaldo borrows 10,000 ducats of a Jew on the condition that, if the money be not repaid by a certain day, Ansaldo shall forfeit a pound of his flesh, to be cut off by the Jew. Giannetto gains the lady in marriage; but, forgetful of the bond, prolongs his stay at Belmont till the day of payment is past. Hastening to Venice, he finds the Jew rigid in exacting the penalty, and not to be turned from it even by ten times the amount of the loan. The bride, knowing the merchant's position, disguises herself as a doctor of law, repairs to Venice, and gets herself introduced as a judge into the court where the case is on trial: for in Italy, at that time, nice and difficult points of law were determined, not by the ordinary judges, but by doctors of law from Padua, Bologna, and other famous law-schools. The lady, unrecognized by her husband, learns the nature of the case, and, after reading the bond, calls on the Jew to take the pound of flesh, but tells him he must take neither more nor less than exactly a pound, and that he must shed no blood. An executioner is at hand to behead him in case any blood be drawn. The Jew then says he will accept the 100,000 ducats offered; but, as he has declared up and down repeatedly that he will have nothing but the pound of flesh, the judge refuses to allow any repayment of money whatever; and the Jew in a rage tears up the bond and quits the court. Hereupon Giannetto, overjoyed at the happy issue, yields up to the judge, in token of his gratitude, a ring which his wife had given him on their marriage-day; and the judge, on returning home and putting off the disguise, rails at her husband in fine terms about his parting with the ring, which she says she is sure he must have given to some woman.

There is also an old ballad entitled "The cruelty of Ger

nutus, a Jew, who, lending to a Merchant a hundred crowns, would have a pound of his flesh, because he could not pay him at the day appointed." The ballad is of uncertain date ; but Bishop Percy, who reprints it in his Reliques "from an ancient black-letter copy," gives strong reasons for thinking it to have been earlier than the play. If so, the Poet must have taken some points from it, as is evident from the following extracts:

--

In Venice town, not long ago,
A cruel Jew did dwell,
Which lived all on usury,
As Italian writers tell.

Within that city dwelt that time
A merchant of great fame,
Which, being distressèd, in his need
Unto Gernutus came;

Desiring him to stand his friend,
For twelvemonth and a day
To lend to him an hundred crowns;
And he for it would pay

Whatsoever he would demand of him;
And pledges he should have.
No, quoth the Jew with fleering looks,
Sir, ask what you will have.

No penny for the loan of it

For one year you shall pay :
You may do me as good a turn,
Before my dying day.

But we will have a merry jest,
For to be talkèd long:

You shall make me a bond, quoth he,
That shall be large and strong.

And this shall be the forfeiture,-
Of your own flesh a pound:
If you agree, make you the bond,
And here is a hundred crowns.

With right good will! the merchant says; And so the bond was made.

When twelvemonth and a day drew on,

That back it should be paid,

The merchant's ships were all at sea,
And money came not in:

Which way to take, or what to do,
To think he doth begin.

Some offer'd for his hundred crowns

Five hundred for to pay;

And some a thousand, two, or three,
Yet still he did denay.

And, at the last, ten thousand crowns
They offer'd, him to save:
Gernutus said, I will no gold,—
My forfeit I will have.

The bloody Jew now ready is,
With whetted blade in hand,
To spoil the blood of innocent,
By forfeit of his bond.

And, as he was about to strike
In him the deadly blow,

Stay, quoth the judge, thy cruelty,-
I charge thee to do so.

Sith needs thou wilt thy forfeit have,
Which is of flesh a pound,

See that thou shed no drop of blood,
Nor yet the man confound.

For, if thou do, like murderer

Thou here shalt hangèd be;

Likewise of flesh see that thou cut
No more than 'longs to thee;

For if thou take either more or less,
To the value of a mite,

Thou shalt be hangèd presently,

As is both law and right.

The praise of this drama is in the mouth of nearly all the critics. That the praise is well deserved appears in that, from the reopening of the theatres at the Restoration till the present day, the play has kept its place on the stage; while it is also among the first of the Poet's works to be read, and the last to be forgotten, its interest being as durable in the closet as on the boards. Well do I remember it as the very beginning of my acquaintance with Shakespeare; one of the dearest acquaintances I have ever made, and which has been to me a source of more pleasure and profit than I should dare undertake to tell.

Critics have too often entertained themselves with speculations as to the Poet's specific moral purpose in this play or that. Wherein their great mistake is the not duly bearing in mind, that the special proposing of this or that moral lesson is quite from or beside the purpose of Art. Nevertheless a work of art, to be really deserving the name, must needs be moral, because it must be proportionable and true to Nature; thus attuning our inward forces to the voice of external order and law: otherwise it is at strife with the compact of things; a piece of dissonance; a jarring, unbalanced, crazy thing, that will die of its own internal disorder. If, then, a work

be morally bad, this proves the author more a bungler than any thing else. And if any one admire it or take pleasure in it, he does so, not from reason, but from something within him which his reason, in so far as he has any, necessarily disapproves so that he is rather to be laughed at as a dunce than preached to as a sinner; though perhaps this latter should be done also.

As to the moral temper of The Merchant of Venice, critics have differed widely, some regarding the play as teaching the most comprehensive humanity, others as caressing the narrowest bigotries of the age. This difference may be fairly taken as an argument of the Poet's candour and evenhandedness. A special-pleader is not apt to leave the hearers in doubt on which side of the question he stands. In this play, as in others, the Poet, I think, ordered things mainly with a view to dramatic effect; though to such effect in the largest and noblest sense. And the highest praise compatible with the nature of the work is justly his, inasmuch as he did not allow himself to be swayed either way from the right measures and proportions of art. For Art is, from its very nature, obliged to be "without respect of persons." Impartiality is its essential law, the constituent of its being. And of Shakeit could least of all be said, speare

he narrow'd his mind,

And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.

He represented men as he had seen them. And he could neither repeal nor ignore the old law of human nature, in virtue of which the wisest and kindest men are more or less warped by social customs and prejudices, so that they come to do, and even to make a merit of doing, some things that are very unwise and unkind; while the wrongs and insults