As a highly committed cultural Jew, and one who has studied and participated in theater for more than 50 years, I have something to say about Rabbi A. James Rudin’s op-ed in J.’s April 8 edition, “Is it time to banish Shylock from our literary canon?”
In no way do I disagree with his assessment of Shylock as being thoroughly despicable, angry, vengeful and full of hatred (though he is by far the most interesting character in “The Merchant of Venice”).
But while I concur with Rudin’s assessment, it should be noted that other Elizabethan authors and playwrights fashioned Jewish villains that make Shylock almost a loveable pussycat. Barabas in Christopher Marlowe’s “The Jew of Malta” is a prime example, along with the villainous Jewish usurer in “The Jew of Venice,” a relatively unknown work by Thomas Dekker.
In other Elizabethan and Jacobean dramas, Jewish moneylenders are given names such as Gripe, Hornet, Bloodhound, Lucre, Moth, Perfidious Oldcraft and Sir Tyrant Thrift. Somehow I doubt that those names appeared on any brit milah certificate.
Earlier writings, such as Chaucer’s “The Prioress’s Tale” (part of “The Canterbury Tales”) in the 1300s, established the horrible stereotype. Charles Dickens continued it centuries later with his Fagin in “Oliver Twist.”
Shakespeare based his “The Merchant of Venice” on an Italian play called “Il Pecorone” (The Simpleton), written in 1378, in which the evil moneylender has no name. He demands a “pound of flesh” as payment if the money is not paid back, and when it isn’t, he goes to court to get what he is owed.
My beef with Rudin isn’t his writing, but the headline of the piece: “Is it time to banish Shylock from the literary canon?”
Although presented in a euphemistic style, the headline made me immediately think of something I personally dread: censorship. If we censor a work because it offers a horrible example of a Jew, what is to prevent someone else from censoring another work because it offers too pleasant a picture of a Jew? (There must be some such work somewhere.)
Under no circumstances do we need clergy, lay people, government officials or anyone else deciding what we can write, present or read — because once that snowball starts rolling downhill, it will not be long before it becomes an avalanche.
We need to remember the lessons taught to us in the 20th century by people named Hitler and Stalin, not to mention the Jew-hating momzers of the House Un-American Activities Committee.
In my novel “By Any Other Name,” I have an imaginary discussion between Marlowe and the man (in my novel) who is credited with writing the plays attributed to Shakespeare.
The discussion is about the images of Shylock and Barabas.
Marlowe, whose Jewish moneylender was even worse than Shylock, insists that the primary decision on depth of evil lies within the audience for whom the work was written. There can be no question that the Elizabethan or Jacobean audiences were vastly different from those in 21st-century America.
Some will come away from a production of “The Merchant of Venice” thinking, “All Jews are like that.” Hopefully others will realize that it was written more than four centuries ago and is not a true reflection of life as we know it.
Shakespeare himself had a serious “religious” line to walk. He came from a devout, involved Catholic family at a time when England still smarted from Henry VIII’s abandoning the Catholic Church and establishing the Anglican church. He dared not enter the conflicted world of religious strife in England within his plays.
At the time, Jews made excellent villains — and the theater needs villains in order to strengthen the heroes.
As one who was involved in theater and literature prior to retirement, I patently reject the idea of having Mishna-like panel discussions after the final curtain.
As Shakespeare once wrote, “The play’s the thing.” I hope that audiences will find food for thought after “The Merchant of Venice,” or any other play or novel. However, the play must, in the final analysis, stand on its own as a work of art.
Edwin Cohen is a retired high school teacher who has written seven books, two plays and a collection of poetry. He lives in Walnut Creek.