lady arrives at this crisis, and causes it to be announced that she can resolve difficult questions of law. Consulted in the case of Ansaldo, she decides that the Jew must have his pound of flesh, but that he shall lose his head if he cut more or less, or draws one drop of blood. The Jew relinquishes his demand, and Ansaldo is released. The bride will not receive money as a recompense, but desires Gianneto's wedding ring, which he gives her. The lady arrives at home before her husband, and immediately asks for her ring, which he being unable to produce, she upbraids him with having given it to some mistress. At length Gianneto's sorrow affects his wife, and she explains the particulars of her journey and disguise.-This story may have been translated into English in Shaksperc's time, but if so, the version has not hitherto been discovered. The incident of the caskets appears to be founded on a story in the English version of the "GESTA ROMANORUM," a collection formerly in high repute. Mr. Douce has written an able treatise on this work, and gives an analysis of the 99th chapter, which he thinks is obviously the story which supplied the caskets of the "MERCHANT OF VENICE." A marriage was proposed between the son of Anselmus, Emperor of Rome, and the daughter of the King of Apulia. The young lady in her voyage was shipwrecked and swallowed by a whale. In this situation, she contrived to make a fire and to wound the animal with a knife, so that he was driven towards the shore, and slain by an earl named Pirius, who delivered the princess and took her under his protection. On relating her story, she was conveyed to the emperor. In order to prove whether she was worthy the hand of his son, he placed before her three vessels. The first was of gold, and filled with dead-men's bones: on it was this inscription:"Who chooses me shall find what he deserves." The second was of silver, filled with earth, and thus inscribed:-"Who chooses me shall find what nature covets." The third vesse! was of lead, but filled with precious stones, it had this inscription:-" Who chooses me shall find what God has placed." The emperor then commanded her to choose one of the vessels, informing her that if she made choice of that which should profit herself and others, she would obtain his son: if of what should profit neither herself nor others, she would lose him. The princess, after praying for assistance, preferred the leaden vessel. The emperor informed her that she had chosen as he wished, and immediately united her with his son. The "MERCHANT OF VENICE" is one of Shakspere's most perfect works: popular to an extraordinary degree, and calculated to produce the most powerful effect on the stage; and at the same time, a wonder of ingenuity and art for the reflecting critic. Shylock, the Jew, is one of the inconceivable masterpieces of characterisation of which Shakspere alone furnishes us with examples. It is easy for the poet and the player to exhibit a caricature of national sentiments, modes of speaking, and gestures. Shylock, however, is everything but a common Jew: he possesses a very determinate and original individuality, and yet we perceive a slight touch of Judaism in everything which he says and does. We imagine we hear a sprinkling of the Jewish pronunciation in the mere written words, as we still sometimes find it in the higher classes of that people, notwithstanding their social refinement. In tranquil situations, what is foreign to the European blood and Christian sentiments is less perceivable; but in passion the national stamp appears more strongly marked. All these inimitable niceties the finished art of a great actor can alone properly express. Shylock is a man of information, even a thinker in his own way; he has only not discovered the region where human feelings dwell: his morality is founded on the disbelief in goodness and magnanimity. The desire of revenging the oppressions and humiliations suffered by his nation, is, after avarice, his principal spring of action. His hate is naturally directed chiefly against those Christians who possess truly Christian sentiments: the example of disinterested love of our neighbour, seems to him the most unrelenting persecution of the Jews. The letter of the law is his idol; he refuses to lend an ear to the voice of mercy, which speaks to him from the mouth of Portia with heavenly eloquence: he insists on severe and inflexible justice, and it at last recoils on his own head. Here he becomes a symbol of the general history of his unfortunate nation. The melancholy and self-neglectful magnanimity of Antonio is affectingly sublime. Like a royal merchant, he is surrounded with a whole train of noble friends. The contrast which this forms to the selfish cruelty of the usurer Shylock, was necessary to redeem the honour of human nature. The judgment scene, with which the fourth act is occupied, is alone a perfect drama, concentrating in itself the interest of the whole. The knot is now untied, and, according to the common idea, the curtain might drop. But the poet was unwilling to dismiss his audience with the gloomy impressions which the delivery of Antonio, accomplished with so much difficulty, contrary to all expectation, and the punishment of Shylock, were calculated to leave behind: he has, therefore, added the fifth act, by way of a musical afterpiece in the play itself. The episode of Jessica, the fugitive daughter of the Jew, in whom Shakspere has contrived to throw a disguise of sweetness over the national features, and the artifice by which Portia and her companion are enabled to rally their newly-married husbands, supply him with materials. The scene opens with the playful prattling of two lovers in a summer moonlight : "When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees." It is followed by soft music, and a rapturous eulogy on this powerful disposer of the human mind and the world. The principal characters then make their appearance; and, after an assumed dissension, which is elegantly carried on, the whole ends with the most exhilarating mirth.-SCHLEGEL. In Percy's "RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY," there is a Ballad called "A new Song, shewing the cruelty of Gernutus, a Jew; who, lending to a Merchant an hundred Crowns, would have a pound of his flesh, because he could not pay him at the time appointed." This production is supposed by Warton and other competent judges to have been written before Shakspere's play; and it seems not unlikely that the poet derived various hints from it, more particularly from those parts which speak of the "merry jest" and the "whetted blade." Three of the more relevant stanzas are subjoined by way of specimen : "No penny for the loan of it But we will have a merry jest The bloody Jew now ready is, It were useless further to pursue the search for Shakspere's authorities. The story of the cruel creditor and of his defeat seems to have been told in as many regions, East and West, as that of Parnell's "HERMIT," and in as great variety of forms. In the "MERCHANT OF VENICE" we have it finally embalmed, in its most striking and instructive aspect. ARIEGATED, light, and splendid as though woven in the woof of Iris, the wondrous texture of this enchanting Dream is yet of stamina to last till doomsday. "Such tricks hath strong imagination!" Like gravitation in the substantial world, its influence pervades the whole domain of moral nature, and compels materials apparently the most discordant to revolve in harmony round one bright vivifying centre. Never was this divine impulsive property of intellect more finely exemplified than in the Elysian scene that here presents itself. The stately heroes and heroines of Grecian story move in soft unison with the beautiful creations of the Gothic mythology-quaint, rich, and fantastic as the ornaments of our matchless Gothic fanes; while all are bound up and blended with a plenteous exhibition of the joys and the sorrows, the constancy and the faithfulness, the sense and the absurdity, that in every age and every clime have characterised our inconsistent, yet exalted human nature. Theseus and his Amazonian love, although invested, for the most part, with an air of classic coldness, at times give indications of being instinct with Shaksperian fire. There is a fine touch of feminine feeling in Hippolyta's expressed dislike "to see wretchedness o'ercharged, and duty in his service perishing." The answer of Theseus breathes the very spirit of a generous philosophy. Their conversation, too, while preparing for the chase, is animated with a glowing sense of animal enjoyment that rises into strenuous poetry. Altogether, these warlike lovers present a very gratifying specimen of the heroic character in repose. The language of the amorous "human mortals," while doomed to illustrate the pathetic adage that "the course of true love never did run smooth," is fraught with sweetness gathered from the purest flowers of Parnassus. The pains and pleasures, the exalting and debasing influences of the universal passion, are delineated with surpassing truth and beauty. Under its resistless spell, the charming Helena betrays her friend, for the sake of a short-lived interview with her revolted and contemptuous lover. Her subsequent unshaken patience, however, and exquisite expostulation with Hermia, amply atone for the solitary error springing from that intoxication of the heart and brain which deprives its victims of discretion, and too often of their self-respect, at the precise moment when they have most occasion for support and admonition. While basking in the moonlight fairy scenes, the luxurious fancy seems to inhale the very odours of "the spiced Indian air;" or, sweeter still, to drink the balmy influence of that "luscious woodbine" which forms Titania's most appropriate canopy.-Puck, the "shrewd and knavish sprite," who finds a sport in lovers' agonising janglings, is beautifully discriminated from Ariel, who pities mortal miseries, and instigates his master to relieve them. Still the "merry wanderer of the night" is delightful and exhilarating company: his sportive malice, controlled by the beneficent Oberon, is productive of infinite diversion; we easily forgive his elvish ridicule of pangs and raptures he is alike incapable of feeling, and for the moment heartily subscribe to his satiric dictum,-" Lord, what fools these mortals be!" The "hempen homespuns" who are so marvellously intermixed with the superior intelligences of the drama, are all admirable workers in their tiny spheres,-from Peter Quince, the business-like manager, who really seems to have half an idea in his head, and contents himself with the humble role of Thisbe's father-up (or down) to ostentatious "Bully Bottom," the twinkling cynosure of all his meek competitors. The union of broad humour with poetic fancy was never perhaps so admirably effected as in the scenes in which this "shallowest thickskin of that barren sort" receives, as a mere thing of course, the enthusiastic courtship of the Queen of Fairyland.-"A very good piece of work, and a merry." There were two quarto editions of the "MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM" (both published in 1600), previous to its appearance in the folio collection. Hippolyta, I wooed thee with my sword, Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEME TRIUS. Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! Thes. Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee? Ege. Full of vexation come I, with complaint And interchanged love-tokens with my child: Turned her obedience, which is due to me, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens Thes. What say you, Hermia? Be advised, fair maid: To you your father should be as a god; One that composed your beauties; yea, and one The worst that may befall me in this case, Thes. Either to die the death, or to abjure Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, For aye to be in a shady cloister mewed, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, moon (The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, For aye, austerity and single life. Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield Thy craz'd title to my certain right. Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. Ege. Scornful Lysander! true he hath my love; Lys. I am, my lord, as well derived as he; And, which is more than all these boasts can be, I am beloved of beauteous Hermia: Thes. I must confess that I have heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; But being over-full of self-affairs, My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come; I have some private schooling for you both. |