“I’ve had enough of your tongue. Eat or not, but keep your mouth shut. Isn’t that what the Bible says?” [Martin, Kate’s husband-to-be]
Martin had read no Bible, but apparently he had not missed that favorite lesson of Father Jaggard, from the first gospel of Timothy: “Let the woman suffer in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.” Because Eve spoke up to Adam in the Garden and convinced him to eat of the apple of the knowledge of good and evil, her daughters must ever suffer in silence! Chapter I, The Secret Player
When we think of girls who disguise themselves as boys in Shakespeare’s plays, the first who come to mind are Rosalind in As You Like It and Viola/Cesario in Twelfth Night. Rosalind has a precursor in Julia, who dresses as a page in Two Gentlemen of Verona. For all three, their male disguise relates to the love plots.
Important in a very different way in The Merchant of Venice are the disguises of Portia, the lady of Belmont, and her maid Nerissa. Portia plays Balthazar, the young lawyer who appears at the trial of Antonio the merchant with Nerissa as her clerk. Portia is quite a talker; she has 553 lines, more than Shylock or Bassanio
In early modern England, women were not supposed to speak out. Shakespeare must have been hugely entertained in writing the character of Portia, who knows as much law as a graduate of the Middle Temple but is of the gender who could not gain a university education in the 1590’s, nor for three more centuries.
What adds to the charm of male disguise in Merchant is that the maid Nerissa, with whom Portia earlier had a witty exchange about her suitors, challenges class as well as gender limitations by playing a law clerk.
Bassanio has already guessed the correct casket and won Portia’s hand, with his man Gratiano marrying Nerissa. After the wedding Portia discovers that the merchant Antonio’s ships are lost and Antonio must pay the forfeit of his loan to Shylock, money he borrowed for Bassanio’s benefit. She sends Bassanio to Venice with enough gold to repay the loan twenty times over if necessary—before their marriage is consummated, “For never shall you lie by Portia’s side/With an unquiet soul.” Then, claiming that she and Nerissa will retreat to a convent to pray for Bassanio’s success, she pursues her secret plan.
Portia sends her servant Balthazar to the house of her cousin Doctor Bellario with a letter and instructions to obtain “what notes and garments he doth give thee.” The garments are male; the notes presumably legal but specifically, a letter of introduction. Bellario has been sent for to make a determination about the case. Portia comes in his place wearing the robes of a lawyer, having taken her servant’s name, Balthazar, as a young learnèd doctor.
The trial scene is wonderfully theatrical, whipping our emotions back and forth. We sympathize with Shylock and yet are horrified; we hope that he’ll accept the money and are dismayed that he cannot respond to her plea for mercy. Portia as Balthazar acknowledges that the law is with Shylock: “You must prepare your bosom for his knife,” she tells Antonio. There’s a dramatic farewell; Bassanio tells Antonio he would sacrifice his wife, “as dear to me as life itself,” to save him. When Shylock’s knife is ready, Portia uses the law to foil him. Not one drop of blood may be shed; no more nor less than one pound of flesh may be cut from Antonio’s breast. Antonio, who’s already bared his chest, is saved. The one who creates the tension is the young lawyer Balthazar.
She does not tell Shylock he must become a Christian; that is Antonio. In a recent production at San Diego’s Old Globe, a look of pain crosses her face, and she watches with sympathy as Shylock leaves, a broken man. His punishments which Antonio dictates Portia later modifies.
If this were as far as Shakespeare took her male disguise, we’d be impressed, but we return to the love story. When Bassanio asked her what payment he might offer, Balthazar/Portia requested Bassanio’s ring—the one she gave him to seal their marriage. She’s pleased that he refuses, but, on Antonio’s urging, he sends Gratiano after her to give it. Nerissa then pursues Gratiano to beg the ring she gave him. As Shylock said earlier, “These be the Christian husbands!”
Comedy requires the play to end with wedding celebrations. [In the Old Globe, Shylock hovers in the background, an unseen reminder.] As in the old tale of suitors selecting the right casket in order to win the lady, Bassanio has chosen lead, rather than the seemingly more precious gold or silver. But he’s a man of baser metal than Portia. Belmont is a magical realm removed from the Rialto with its money-grubbing; Antonio has no place there. Henceforth it’s Bassanio’s home.
All is forgiven of Bassanio and Gratiano, but the rings they gave away, restored to their wives’ fingers, are a symbol not only of the marriage bond but of the female. By their own admission, they have been cuckolded by their own wives. You want to hug Shakespeare for his brilliance and ambiguities!