Decidedly, the beginning of Act Second proves Andronic is no fool, for he advises Honorius to flee that creature,—­and what better advice in those matters is there than that of retreating?  Decidedly, too, the virtuous Doge is worth having,—­really a Middle-Age electric telegraph,—­for he gives all about him such a dose of news as in this day would sell every penny-paper printed:  and such bad news!—­Venice down everywhere, and a loan wanted.  Here comes a fine scene for Andronic, (for, after all, the lords have “hitched out” of the proposed loan, whereby I take it they are not such fools as people take them to be,)—­Andronic declares, that, if he were rich enough, the Doge should not ask for money, but ships are but frail and his have gone to pieces.  Here, you see, comes another faint whiff of the real original play.

Then, clearly, the Doge can only apply to the Jews.  Enter Shylock a propos.  The next scene is so awful to the Greek Chorus, who may be of a business turn, that I am charitable enough not to reproduce it here; but the percentage the Jew wants for the loan seems to be quite a multiplication-table of tangible securities, and I only wonder the Doge does not order him into the Adriatic.  Amongst other demands, the Jew procures all the Dogic jewels,—­and then he wants all the jewels of the Doge’s daughter; indeed, Shylock becomes a most unreasonable party.

No sooner does he speak of the daughter, Ginevra by name, than in she comes, jewel-casket in hand,—­which leads the cynical Greek Chorus to suppose that Mademoiselle is either clairvoyante or prefers going about with a box.  The way in which that best of her sex offers up the jewels on the patriotic shrine is really worthy of the applause bestowed on the act; but when that pig of a Jew is not satisfied, when he insists upon the diamond necklace Ginevra wears, as another preliminary to the loan, people in the theatre quite shake with indignation.

Now the jewel has been the pattern young lady’s mother’s; and here comes an opening for that appeal to the filial love of Frenchmen which is never touched in vain.  It is really a great and noble trait in the French character, that filial love, not too questionable to be demonstrative,—­’tis a sure dramatist’s French card, that appeal to the love of mothers and fathers by their children.

Having procured the weight of this chain, which has caused Shylock the loss of many friends in the house who have been inclined to like him consequent upon the loss of that Abel-Moses-photograph,—­Shylock departs with this information, that he will bring the money to-morrow:  which assertion proves Shylock to be a strong man, if a hundred thousand marks are as heavy as I take them to be.

Upon what little things do dramas, in common with lives, turn!  That necklace is the brilliant groundwork of the rest of the plot.  Why—­why—­why—­WHY didn’t Shakspeare think of the necklace?