Crossing a Sea of Damned Riddles

In this post I want to explore some of the instances of polysemous language in the play and talk about how Shakespeare creates layers of meaning and subtle irony. To begin with, I first noticed a play on the word “cross” in 2.4 line 35-37 when Lorenzo says about Jessica, “And never dare misfortune cross her foot/Unless she do it under this excuse:/That she is issue to a faithless Jew.” I detected a subtle irony in the word choice of “cross” (which is also of course the central emblem of Christianity) and when I saw that Jessica uses the same phrase at the end of the next scene, 2.5 line 54, I made sure to keep an eye out for later iterations. In the first scene of Act III, Solanio uses the word with even greater irony when he says, “Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer--” (3.1 17-18). The irony is then further accentuated when Shylock enters and Solanio calls him the Jewish manifestation of the devil, so that, in a nut shell, we have a Jewish devil threatening to “cross” Solanio’s prayer for the man (Antonio) who crossed Shylock. Shakespeare gives us rich yet subtle layers of meaning which unveil the polysemous nature of language and, in this specific context, applies it to the religio-cultural situation. The sign of the cross, which should represent Christ’s values and attitude (i.e. forgiveness, compassion, love, etc.) becomes a justification for hatred and racism, and so the Christians cross the Jews and the Jews cross the Christians. People often cite Shylock’s speech about human equality--which ironically is also his justification for revenge--as the hallmark passage from The Merchant of Venice; while I also find his words moving, I think the crux of the play is really Bassanio’s internal monologue about the illusory nature of the world, which brings me back to my point about language and religion. In the monologue, Bassanio says, “In religion,/What damned error but some sober brow/Will bless it and approve it with a text,/Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?” (3.2 77-80). His diction recalls the story of Jessica, who on a number of occasions is called “damned”--such as in 3.5 by Lancelot (the master of language play)--and who, disguised as a boy nonetheless, flees her Jewish father (who also calls her “damned”) and tries to hide under the shadow of the cross so to speak. A few lines later in the monologue Bassanio’s words again resonate ironically with the context of his speech when he says, “How many cowards whose hearts are all as false/As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins the beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,/Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk?” (3.2 83-86). First off I love that phrase “as false as stairs of sand,” but also the Hercules name-drop recalls boastful Morocco, who compares himself to Alcides (Hercules) and fears that a lesser man may claim his reward in this dicey game of marriage riddled with uncertainties; it also more explicitly reminds me of Portia’s comparison between Alcides (Hercules) and Bassanio (interestingly, she also uses two names to refer to the same figure). What’s more, Portia recalls a story in which Hercules saves a Trojan princess, not out of love but for the reward, and she couldn’t have chosen a better parable for the situation, because as we know Bassanio has come, wearing the beard of Hercules, to win a reward. His monologue is riddled with hypocrisy and self-deception, yet there is truth in the essence of his words. Before reading the monologue I wondered if any character would see beyond the illusions of wealth and prestige, but it appears that Shakespeare has chosen to keep them in the dark and teach us the lesson through a powerful but subtle use of dramatic irony.