Passing from such truly insignificant matters, (but which, insignificant as they are, occasionally demand a slight observation,) we come to an opinion in which Mrs. Inchbald is by no means singular-that detestation of the Jew is "the moral designed by the original author." It is probable that, even in Shakspere's time, this was the popular notion. In an anonymous MS. Elegy on Burbage,' "one of the characters he is represented to have filled is that of Shylock, who is called 'the red-hair'd Jew.' This establishes that the part was dressed in an artificial red beard and wig, in order to render it more odious and objectionable to the audience.” * This circumstance, however, is by no means a proof to us that Shakspere intended the Jew to move the audience to unmitigated odium. The players might have thought, indeed, that he was not odious enough for the popular appetite, and in consequence made him "more odious and objectionable." The question may be better understood as we proceed in an analysis of the characters and incidents of this drama.

A contemporary German critic, Dr. Ulrici †, has presented to us the entire plot of The Merchant of Venice under a very original aspect. His object has been to discover-what he maintains had not been previously discovered-the fundamental idea of the drama-the link which holds together all its apparently heterogeneous parts. We are scarcely yet accustomed to the profound views which the philosophical critics of Germany are disposed to take of the higher works of art, and of the creations of Shakspere especially. We are more familiar with the common opinion that genius works upon no very settled principles, and produces the finest combinations by some happy accident. It is thus that some of us are disposed to reject the opposite doctrines as mystical and paradoxical; and that nearly all of us are inclined to agree that "'twere to consider too curiously to consider so" as Tieck, and Ulrici, and others of their school consider. We, of England, however-strong as our determination may be to cling to what we call the common-sense view of a subject-are learning to receive with respect, at least for their ingenuity, those criticisms which look beyond the external forms of poetry; and for this reason we do not hesitate to offer to our readers a rapid notice of Dr. Ulrici's judgment upon the drama before us. The critic first passes the several characters in review. Antonio is the noble and great hearted, yielding to a passive melancholy, produced by the weight of a too agitating life of action; Bassanio, somewhat inconsiderate, but generous and sensible, is the genuine Italian gentleman, in the best sense of the word; Portia is most amiable, and intellectually rich (geistreich); Jessica is a child of nature, lost in an oriental love enthusiasm. The critic presents these characteristics in a very few words; but his portrait of Shylock is more elaborate. He is the well-struck image of the Jewish character in general of the fallen member of a race dispersed over the whole earth, and enduring long centuries of persecution. Their firmness had become obstinacy; their quickness of intellect, craft; their love of possessions, a revolting avarice. "Nothing," says Dr. Ulrici, "had kept its rank in their universal decay, but the unConquerable constancy, the dry mummy-like tenacity of the Jewish nature. So appears Shylocka pitiable ruin of a great and significant by-past time-the glimmering ash-spark of a faded splendour which can no longer warm or preserve, but can yet burn or destroy. We are as little able to deny him our compassion, as we can withhold our disgust against his modes of thinking and acting."

Dr. Ulrici next proceeds to notice Shakspere's mastership in the composition, uniting, and unfolding of the intricate plot. "We have three curious, and in themselves very complicated,

*Collier's New Particulars,' &c.

+ 'Ueber Shakspeare's dramatische Kunst und sein Verhältniss zu Calderon un Göthe.'

knots wound into each other :-first, the process between Antonio and Shylock; next, the marriages of Bassanio and Portia, of Gratiano and Nerissa; and, lastly, the elopement of Jessica, and her love's history with Lorenzo. These various interests, actions, and adventures are disposed with such a clearness and fixedness-one so develops itself out of and with the others,-that we never lose the thread that everywhere reveals an animated and harmoniously-framed principle." The critic then proceeds to say, that, although an external union of the chief elements is clearly enough supported, the whole seems in truth to be inevitably falling asunder; and that "we have now to inquire where lies the internal spiritual unity which will justify the combination of such heterogeneous elements in one drama."*

Throughout many of Shakspere's plays, according to Dr. Ulrici, the leading fundamental idea, concentrated in itself, is so intentionally hidden-the single makes itself so decidedly important, and comes before us so free, and self-sustained, and complete,-that the entire work is occasionally exposed to the ungrounded reproach of looseness of plan and want of coherency. On the other hand, there are sufficient intimations of the meaning of the whole scattered throughout; so that whoever has in some degree penetrated into the depths of the Shaksperian art cannot well go wrong. The sense and significancy of the process between Antonio and the Jew rest clearly upon the old juridical precept, Summum jus, summa injuria—(the highest law, the highest injustice.) Shylock has, clearly, all that is material, except justice, on his side; but while he seizes and follows his right to the letter, he falls through it into the deepest and most criminal injustice; and the same injustice, through the internal necessity which belongs to the nature of sin, falls back destructively on his own head. The same aspect in which this principle is presented to us in its extremest harshness, in the case of Shylock, shows itself in various outbursts of light and shadow throughout all the remaining elements of this drama. The arbitrary will of her father, which fetters Portia's inclination, and robs her of all participation in the choice of a husband, rests certainly upon paternal right; but even this right, when carried to an extreme, becomes the highest injustice. The injustice which lies in the enforcement of this paternal right would have fallen with tragical weight, if chance had not conducted it to a fortunate issue. The flight and marriage of Jessica, against her father's will, comprehends a manifest injustice. Nevertheless, who will condemn her for having withdrawn herself from the power of such a father? In the sentence laid upon the Jew, by which he is compelled to recognise the marriage of his daughter, is again reflected the precept—Summum jus, summa injuria; right and unright are here so closely driven up into the same limit, that they are no longer separated, but immediately pass over one to the other. Thus we see that the different, and apparently heterogeneous, events unite themselves in the whole into one point. They are only variations of the same theme. All human life is a great lawsuit; where right is received as the centre and basis of our being. From this point of view proceeds the drama. But the more this basis is built upon, the more insecure does it exhibit itself. Unquestionably, right and law ought to uphold and strengthen human life. But they are not its basis and true centre. In them the whole truth of human existence does not lie enclosed. In their one-sidedness right becomes unright, and unright becomes right. Law and right have their legality and truth, not through and in themselves; but they rest upon the higher principles of the true morality, from which they issue only as single rays. Man has in and for himself no rights, but only duties. But, at the same time, against others his duties are rights; and there is no true living right that does not include, and may be itself indeed, a duty. Not upon right, then, but upon the heavenly grace rests the human being and life. The union of the human with the Divine will is the true animating morality of mankind-through which right and unright first receive their value and significancy. Shakspere indicates this in the following beautiful verses :

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd;

It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway,

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
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."

We have thus very briefly, and, therefore, somewhat imperfectly, exhibited the views of Dr. Ulrici, with reference to the idea in which this drama is conceived. They belong to that philosophy which, whether for praise or for blame, has been called transcendental. We cannot avoid expressing our opinion that, although Shakspere might not have proposed to himself so systematic a display of the contest that is unremittingly going forward in the world between our conventional and our natural being, he did intend to represent the anomalies that have always existed between the circumstances by which human agents are surrounded, and the higher motives by which they should act. And this idea, as it appears to us, is the basis of the large toleration which belongs to this drama, amidst its seeming intolerance. Men are to be judged upon a higher principle than belongs to mere edicts,-by and through all the associations amidst which they have been nurtured, and by which they have been impelled. We will take a case or two in point.

Antonio is one of the most beautiful of Shakspere's characters. He does not take a very prominent part in the drama: he is a sufferer rather than an actor. We view him, in the outset, rich, liberal, surrounded with friends; yet he is unhappy. He has higher aspirations than those which ordinarily belong to one dependent upon the chances of commerce; and this uncertainty, as we think, produces his unhappiness. He will not acknowledge the forebodings of evil which come across his mind. Ulrici says "It was the over-great magnitude of his earthly riches, which, although his heart was by no means dependent upon their amount, unconsciously confined the free flight of his soul." We doubt if Shakspere meant this. He has aldressed the reproof of that state of mind to Portia, from the lips of Nerissa:—

"Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of this great world.

"Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: And yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing."

but his reasoning denial of the cause of his sadness is a proof to us that the foreboding of losses"Enough to press a royal merchant down,-"

is at the bottom of his sadness. It appears to us as a self-delusion, which his secret nature rejects, that he says,

"My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,

Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate

Upon the fortune of this present year :

Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad.'

When he has given the fatal bond, he has a sort of desperate confidence, which to us looks very unlike assured belief:

"" Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it;

Within these two months, that's a month before

This bond expires, I do expect return

Of thrice three times the value of this bond."

And, finally, when his calamity has become a real thing, and not a shadowy notion, his deportment shows that his mind has been long familiar with images of ruin

"Give me your hand, Bassanio; fare you well!
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;
For herein fortune shows herself more kind
Than is her custom: it is still her use,

To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,

To view, with hollow eye and wrinkled brow,
An age of poverty; from which lingering penance
Of such a misery doth she cut me off."

The generosity of Antonio's nature unfitted him for a contest with the circumstances amid which his lot was cast. The Jew says

He himself says

Bassanio describes him, as

"In low simplicity.

He lends out money gratis."

I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures

Many that have at times made moan to me."

"The kindest man,

The best condition'd and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies."

To such a spirit, whose "means are in supposition "--whose ventures are "squander'd abroad "-the curse of the Jew must have sometimes presented itself to his own prophetic mind :

"This is the fool that lends out money gratis."

Antonio and his position are not in harmony. But there is something else discordant in Antonio's mind. This kind friend-this generous benefactor-this gentle spirit--this man "unwearied in doing courtesies "- -can outrage and insult a fellow-creature, because he is of another creed :—

Shy. "Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;

You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much monies.

Ant. I am as like to call thee so again,
To spet on thee again, to spurn thee too."

Was it without an object that Shakspere made this man, so entitled to command our affections and our sympathy, act so unworthy a part, and not be ashamed of the act? Most assuredly the poet did not intend to justify the ignities which were heaped upon Shylock; for in the very strongest way he has made the Jew remember the insult in the progress of his wild revenge :

The one

Here, to our minds, is the first of the lessons of charity which this play teaches. Antonio is as much to be pitied for his prejudices as the Jew for his. They had both been nurtured in evil opinions. They had both been surrounded by influences which more or less held in subjection their better natures. The honoured Christian is as intolerant as the despised Jew. habitually pursues with injustice the subjected man that he has been taught to loath; the other, in the depths of his subtle obstinacy, seizes upon the occasion to destroy the powerful man that he has been compelled to fear. The companions of Antonio exhibit, more or less, the same reflexion of the prejudices which bave become to them a second nature. They are not so gross in their prejudices as Launcelot, to whom "the Jew is the very devil incarnation." But to Lorenzo, who is about to marry his daughter, Shylock is a "faithless Jew." When the unha py father is bereft of all that constituted the solace of his home, and before he has manifested that spirit of revenge which might well call for indignation and contempt, he is to the gentlemanly Solanio "the villain Jew," and "the dog Jew." When the unhappy man speaks of his daughter's flight, he is met with a brutal jest on the part of Salarino, who, within his own circle, is the pleasantest of men :-" I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal." We can understand the reproaches that are heaped upon Shylock in the trial scene, as something that might come out of the depths of any passion-stirred nature; but the habitual contempt with which he is treated by men who in every other respect are gentle and good-humoured and benevolent, is a proof to us that Shakspere meant to represent the struggle that must inevitably ensue, in a condition of society where the innate sense of justice is deadened in the powerful by those hereditary prejudices which make cruelty virtue; and where the powerless, invested by accident with the means of revenge, say with Shylock, "The villainy you teach me I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction." The climax of this subjection of our higher and better natures to conventional circumstances is to be found in the character of the Jew's daughter. Young, agreeable, intelligent, formed for happiness, she is shut up by her father in a dreary solitude. One opposed to her in creed gains her affections; and the ties which bind the father and the child are broken for ever. But they are not broken without compunction :

"Alack! what heinous sin is it in me

To be asham'd to be my father's child."

This is nature. But when she has fled from him-robbed him—spent fourscore ducats in one nightgiven his turquoise for a monkey-and, finally, revealed his secrets, with an evasion of the ties that bound them, which makes one's flesh creep,--

"When I was with him," —

we see the poor girl plunged into the most wretched contest between her duties and her pleasures by the force of external circumstances. We grant, then, to all these our compassion; for they commit injustice ignorantly, and through a force which they cannot withstand. Is the Jew himself not to be measured by the same rule? We believe that it was Shakspere's intention so to measure him.

When Pope exclaimed of Macklin's performance of Shylock,—

This is the Jew
That Shakspere drew!"

Macklin was, no doubt, from all

the higher philosophy of Shakspere was little appreciated. traditionary report of him, perfectly capable of representing the subtlety of the Jew's malice and the energy of his revenge. But it is a question with us, whether he perceived, or indeed if any actor ever efficiently represented, the more delicate traits of character that lie beneath these two great passions of the Jew's heart. Look, for example, at the extraordinary mixture of the personal and the national in his dislike of Antonio. He hates him for his gentle manners :

"How like a fawning publican he looks!"

He hates him, "for he is a Christian; "--he hates him, for that "he lends out money gratis; "--but he hates him more than all, because

"He hates our sacred nation."

It is this national feeling which, when carried in a right direction, makes a patriot and a hero, that assumes in Shylock the aspect of a grovelling and fierce personal revenge. He has borne insult and injury "with a patient shrug ;" but ever in small matters he has been seeking

retribution :-

"I am not bid for love, they flatter me:

But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian."

The mask is at length thrown off-he has the Christian in his power; and his desire of revenge, mean and ferocious as it is, rises into sublimity, through the unconquerable energy of the oppressed man's wilfulness. "I am a Jew: Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands; organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that." It is impossible, after this exposition of his feelings, that we should not feel that he has properly cast the greater portion of the odium which belongs to his actions upon the social circumstances by which he has been hunted into madness. He has been made the thing he is by society. In the extreme wildness of his anger, when he utters the harrowing imprecation,—“ I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear! 'would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin;" the tenderness that belongs to our common humanity, even in its most passionate forgetfulness of the dearest ties, comes across him in the remembrance of the mother of that execrated child :-" Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor."

It is in the conduct of the trial scene that, as it appears to us, is to be sought the concentration of Shakspere's leading idea in the composition of this drama. The merchant stands before the Jew a better and a wiser man than when he called him "dog :"

"I do oppose

My patience to his fury, and am arm'd
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
The very tyranny and rage of his."