The merchant of Venice and Frye's argument of comedy

Merchant Parents

Child/Parent Models in the Merchant of Venice

The parent/child relationship is very complex, and given the combined factors of biological and social imperatives, a nearly universal example fo human experience. This does not mean, of course that all parent/child relationships are the same -- far from it. There are cruel parents with kind and obedient children, permissive parents with rambunctious uncontrollable terrors, and parents who grant as much freedom as they can but whose children still find a major way to rebel, and these are just broad brush strokes typifying a few os the most basic types of family dynamics. The various manifestations and iterations of familial relationships -- especially those between a parent and child -- have been a major and common focus of many literary and dramatic texts. All My Sons springs up as an example from modern American drama, as does one of Arthur Miller's other great works, Death of a Salesman. Both dealt largely with the issues that arise between a son or sons who struggle with the fact that their father is not only an imperfect being, but that he may in fact be deeply and profoundly flawed. But Miller by no means created nor cornered the market on filial disappointment.

In one of Shakespeare's best known works, The Merchant of Venice, several parental or pseudo-parental relationships are explored as major constituent parts to the several overarching plots. It is indeed the connection between parent and child, in various manifestations that lies at the heart of each of the individual stories and that drives the action of these to their final convergence. The actions of both parents are children, in their roles as such, are necessary for the momentum of the play. But these relationships are not employed by the Bard as mere devices, serving only as motive for larger schemes. While upholding the duty of the parent to their child, the text is conspicuously ambiguous in asserting the reverse claim.

One particularly striking example of the father-son relationship in Merchant of Venice comes in Act II, scene two, when Launcelot Gobbo, servant to Shylock, meets his near-bind father in the street. His father is on a search for his son, and his subservient attitude towards Launcelot, whom he assumes to be of a higher social rank, seems to instantly evoke a sort of pity for the old man. instead of revealing himself to his father right away, however, Launcelot toys wit him, first insinuating that the man's son is dead, and might in fact be murdered. he does not even do this in a straightforward manner, but rather is obviously playing with the old man's -- his father's -- emotions for the joy of it: "for the young gentleman...is, indeed, deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven" (II, ii, lines 55-9). His speech is full of anything but "plain terms," and this treatment of his father shows a definite lack of respect.

His father, meanwhile, seems quite ready to help Launcelot in any of his endeavors. When the two happened to meet on the street, Launcelot had just decided to leave Shylock's service and seek employment elsewhere. As they are talking, Bassanio happens along, and old Gobbo does his best (which is admittedly not very good or, depending on the playing of the scene, works for all the wrong reasons) to talk his son's way into the gentleman's service. He shows a clear interest in his son's welfare, which is in direct contrast to his son's treatment of him. When lamenting his son's death, Gobbo refers to Launcelot as "the very staff of my age, my very prop" (II, ii, lines 60-1). Launcelot responds, "Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-post, a staff, or a prop?" (II, ii, 62-3). Though he is still joking to some degree, his flippant attitude towards his father's fears shows the lack of concern and respect he bears for the elder generation.

It might be assumed that, due to the importance that class played in Shakespeare's time and in his scripts, this is meant to indicate the lack of worth of the lower classes (to which Gobbo and his son Launcelot, as servants, belong). That is, the rather low sense of duty and morality that Launcelot portrays in this scene could be meant as an aspect of his low social standing. This reading is in keeping with the opening monologue of the scene, in which Launcelot debates the morality of running away from his master Shylock, who could be thought of as a secondary father figure. Interpreting Launcelot's flaws as an issue of class is complicated, however, by the way he is portrayed with Jessica. His relationship with Shylock's daughter appears to be one of absolute devotion and honorable love, meaning that his character is not completely flawed in issues of loyalty, but only that he doesn't feel a duty towards his father.

Jessica, in fact, mirrors Launcelot in this to a large degree. Her own devotion to her father does not run especially deep; as he bids her to lock up his house while he is away, she knows that she is planning on running away and stealing a large portion of his wealth, but does not show even the slightest sign of her impending treachery. It is only at the very end of the scene, when she is alone onstage, that Jessica says to her father's retreating back, "Farewell; and if my fortune be not cross'd, / I have a father, you a daughter, lost" (II, v, lines 57-8). During the scene of her actual theft and flight (for which Launcelot is present), she mentions her shame at being dressed as a boy, but none at all regarding her theft or the betrayal of her father.

There is only one instance of true devotion of a child to their parent in this play, and that is of Portia to her deceased (and therefore thankfully absent) father. He has devised a certain test to choose a husband for her, and though it is made clear from the very outset that Portia would much rather choose a husband on her own terms -- preferably terms built on love and equality rather than male dominance and possession -- it is also clear that Portia fully intends to respect her father's instructions and abide by the rules of the test. Though she complains to her handmaiden Nerissa that "so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father," she accepts Nerissa's response that "Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their death have good inspirations; therefore, the lottery that he hath devised ...will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly love" (I, ii, lines 21-2; 25-30). Though she shows an obvious reluctance to obey her father's will, she ultimately decides that it is her duty as his daughter to uphold his final wishes, and things actually work out the best for Portia (and Bassanio and Antonio, it turns out) because of her decision.

Northrop Frye's dissection of "New Comedy" in his essay "The Argument of Comedy" bring some interesting insight to the reading of parent/child relationships in The Merchant of Venice. Though the standard plot he identifies whereby the main romantic pursuit of a young man is put in conflict with a father figure (senex, according to Frye) who is after the same young girl who is thought to be unmarriageable does not directly apply, the same basic model appears to have been shifted to place an emphasis on the parental, rather than on the merely generational or even the class, dynamic. Thus, Jessica is pursued both by Lorenzo (a young man of the new generation) and her father, Shylock; Bassanio seeks Portia's love but is held back (to a greater or lesser degree, depending on the production) by his father figure Antonio.