The Merchant of Venice 947Shylock is from a separate race because he is not a
Christian. All labels for his character establish him
as someone who looks like, or whose basic biological
worth is, something separate from Christian civili-
zation. Racially, Shylock represents not a familiar
group of citizens within a diverse social culture, but
an outsider group, one that had been expelled from
England more than 300 years before his character
was created. Even in Venice, where Jewish people
lived in the 17th century, the group was segregated
to the ghetto, made outsiders within their own
country.
Thus, to be Jewish is to be a mysterious, sinister
other. To the extent that being Jewish, or being a
“Jew,” is identified within the play by appearance, it
connects to a fantasy of being inferior. True, there
are a few scattered mentions of that which makes
one look Jewish to an outsider (1.2.92, 111: Shylock
mentions his gaberdine and his beard). However,
most references to his biological form are debase-
ments of his species rather than his race. Salanio
calls him “dog” (2.8.14) and villain (2.8.4), and later
refers to him as “the Devil . . . in the likeness of
a Jew” (3.1.18–19). These rhetorical debasements
have little to do with ethnicity. They are designed to
set his identity culturally and biologically apart from
that of compassionate, human, Christians.
These are not merely assaults from the outside.
Shylock calls himself, if ironically, both dog and cur
(1.3.114–115), and reminds the audience in an aside
that he hates Antonio “for he is a Christian” (1.3.36).
Even more vicious is the choice of words as he
unwisely leaves his daughter, who plans to abandon
him for the Christian Lorenzo, at home alone, while
he dines at Antonio’s: “But yet I’ll go in hate, to feed
upon the prodigal Christian” (2.5.15–16). Though
literally meaning “eat at the expense of,” feed upon,
when placed where it is in the rhyme scheme, sug-
gests his more brutal plans for Antonio and recalls
the blood libel, a European myth that Jews use
Christian blood to make matzo.
Race as subhuman otherness in Merchant is
equally visible in the short scene featuring Portia’s
first suitor, the prince of Morocco. The prince’s
richly articulate speech and proclamations of devo-
tion ought to impress the young heiress. Though
he is ultimately unsuccessful in choosing among
the three caskets, he fails because his judgment is
clouded by his conviction that “all the world desires
[Portia]” (2.7.38) and only gold stamped with the
picture of her as an angel could possibly contain
Portia. Portia, however, is disgusted by him for no
reason than his race, praying that “all of his complex-
ion” (2.7.79) fail in her pursuit.
It is not useful to our interpretation to label The
Merchant of Venice an anti-Semitic play. Shylock
is not a realistic depiction of a Jewish person, nor
even a romantic fantasy of an embittered, oppressed
Jew. He is something less than that, a romanticized
version of a subhuman grotesque. His is a partially
humanized version of a demon archetype created in
the mind of a playwright whose only knowledge of
Jewish people came from stories, dramatic literature,
and a deeply anti-Semitic European tradition. In
considering his “race,” the reader must remember
that Shakespeare does not draw on 20th-century
notions of race that exist in a world where a variety
of ethnicities interact, but on 17th-century notions
of race that exist in a society where it is a fantasy of
biological and national otherness.
Ben FislerSocIaL cLaSS in The Merchant of Venice
Shylock is one of a spited, hated underclass, marked
in Venice by the badge of the ghetto. Yet his social
class is in flux thanks to his money. It allows him to
control the destiny, even the life, of the Christian
Antonio, whose present power is limited due, quite
simply, to a lack of funds. He cannot help his friend
when his fortunes are at sea, so he must look to the
underclass moneylender for salvation. Thus, from
the beginning of the play, the world is turned on
its head, as the oppressed, who “many a time and
oft in the Rialto [was called] misbeliever, cutthroat
dog, and [spat] upon” (1.3.101–106), becomes the
oppressor.
In his first moments on stage, Shylock finds
sardonic humor in the power shift, repeating Bas-
sanio’s promise that Antonio will be bound to the
loan, with, first, “Antonio shall be bound, well” and
second by repeating the terms “Three thousand duc-
ats for three months and Antonio bound” (1.3.5–9).
Even his reasons for seeking Antonio’s demise relate
to money. He resents the Christian’s charity for