Christopher Marlowe’s “The Jew of Malta,” a Jacobean tragedy first performed around 1590, stands as a seminal work in English drama, notorious for its controversial portrayal of its protagonist, Barabas. Set against the vibrant, tumultuous backdrop of Malta, a strategic mercantile crossroads in the Mediterranean, the play delves deep into themes of wealth, power, religion, and identity. Central to this exploration is the figure of Barabas, a wealthy Jewish merchant whose life is inextricably linked to the intricate web of trade and finance that defines the island. His character, embodying both the period’s pervasive anti-Semitic stereotypes and a more nuanced critique of Christian hypocrisy, provides a lens through which Marlowe illuminates the moral decay inherent in the relentless pursuit of material gain.
The play’s intricate plot revolves around Barabas’s vast fortune and his cunning, Machiavellian schemes, all initiated by the arbitrary confiscation of his wealth by the Maltese governor to pay tribute to the Ottoman Turks. This act immediately establishes money as the ultimate arbiter of power and survival in Malta, setting the stage for a dramatic exposition of avarice, betrayal, and revenge. Marlowe masterfully uses the specific economic and geopolitical realities of Malta—an island besieged both literally and figuratively by financial demands and external threats—to amplify the universal themes he seeks to explore. The portrayal of Barabas as a quintessential figure of the “business world,” albeit a highly stylized and often monstrous one, allows Marlowe to critique not just individual moral failings but the systemic corruption that arises when commercial interests override ethical considerations and spiritual values.
The Economic Landscape of Marlowe's Malta
Marlowe’s choice of Malta as the setting for “The Jew of Malta” is far from incidental; it is a deliberate and highly effective decision that profoundly influences the play’s themes and characterizations. Historically, Malta in the late 16th century was a crucial strategic outpost, a stronghold of the Knights Hospitaller (the Knights of St. John) and a vital hub for maritime trade between Europe, Africa, and the Middle East. Its geographic position made it a perpetual crossroads of cultures, religions, and commerce, but also a frequent target for invasion, particularly from the Ottoman Empire. This precarious existence, characterized by constant threat and the imperative to finance its defense, makes Malta an ideal microcosm for exploring the nexus of wealth, power, and survival.
The economy of Marlowe’s Malta is depicted as one driven by pragmatism and often necessity, where money is not merely a means of exchange but a tool for geopolitical maneuver. The play opens with a stark illustration of this: the Maltese governor, Ferneze, is forced to levy a heavy tribute on the island’s inhabitants to appease the formidable Turkish forces threatening invasion. This immediate financial imperative underscores the island’s vulnerability and the paramount importance of wealth. Merchants, pirates, and even religious orders are all shown to be deeply entangled in the pursuit and management of riches, suggesting a society where moral principles are easily sacrificed on the altar of economic expediency. This materialistic environment serves as a fertile ground for Barabas’s character, whose entire being is defined by his wealth and his methods of accumulating and wielding it. The constant fear of the Turk and the need for funds to maintain security highlight the desperation that can drive individuals and states to morally questionable actions, creating a world where Barabas’s extreme avarice is, paradoxically, not an anomaly but a heightened reflection of the pervasive societal greed.
Barabas: The Embodiment of Jewish Business Acumen and Stereotype
Barabas is unequivocally the most prominent and controversial figure in “The Jew of Malta,” and his character is meticulously crafted to embody the Elizabethan-era perception of Jewish involvement in the business world, albeit through a highly exaggerated and stereotypical lens. His initial soliloquy famously declares his obsession with wealth: “Infinite riches in a little room.” This opening immediately establishes him as a man whose identity is entirely bound up in his material possessions. His wealth is not just extensive; it is almost mythical, accumulated through vast shipping enterprises, international trade, and the infamous practice of usury – lending money at exorbitant interest rates, a practice historically associated with Jews in Christian Europe and often condemned as morally illicit.
Barabas’s business philosophy is simple yet ruthless: profit above all else. He views the world as a marketplace where everything, including human lives and moral principles, can be bought, sold, or leveraged for gain. He boasts of his ability to “cut twenty purses, or with forged deeds / Cheat three score Christians,” indicating that his methods extend far beyond legitimate commerce to include outright fraud and exploitation. This portrayal taps directly into the prevailing anti-Semitic tropes of the time, which depicted Jews as avaricious, cunning, and fundamentally dishonest in their pursuit of money. His wealth is thus not merely a symbol of success but a mark of his perceived moral corruption, making him an easy target for societal scorn and, crucially, for the state’s opportunistic confiscation.
The sources of Barabas’s wealth are deliberately ambiguous, blurring the line between legitimate trade and illicit dealings. While he owns “ships at sea… with merchandise,” suggesting legitimate merchant activities, his subsequent actions and boasts reveal a deeper reliance on usury and various forms of financial manipulation. This ambiguity reinforces the stereotype of the Jew as a shadowy figure operating outside conventional moral boundaries, accumulating wealth through methods deemed questionable by Christian society. His ability to navigate complex financial networks, secure loans, and control markets is presented as a formidable, almost supernatural, skill, distinguishing him from the less astute, though equally greedy, Christian characters.
Crucially, Barabas’s wealth is not merely a passive possession; it is his primary instrument of power and revenge. When his fortune is confiscated, he does not lament its loss in sentimental terms, but rather the loss of his “soul,” equating money with his very essence and existence. This immediate and profound sense of violation fuels his subsequent, elaborate plans for vengeance. He uses his remaining hidden gold to bribe, corrupt, and manipulate. He pays off a friar, instigates a duel, poisons nuns, and ultimately aligns himself with the Turks, all with the objective of restoring his wealth and avenging the perceived injustice. His wealth becomes a means to exert control over a world that has wronged him, demonstrating its destructive potential when divorced from any ethical framework.
The perception of Barabas by other characters, particularly the Christians, further solidifies his stereotypical portrayal. They view his wealth with a mixture of envy, suspicion, and disdain. While they readily exploit his riches when it serves their purpose (as seen in the confiscation), they simultaneously demonize him for his perceived avarice. The Christians accuse him of usury and dishonesty, yet they themselves are depicted as equally, if not more, driven by greed and opportunism. This highlights the profound hypocrisy at the heart of the Christian establishment, as they condemn Barabas for the very sins they readily commit. Barabas’s response, “Rather had I perish than not be revenged,” solidifies his commitment to a transactional, retributive form of justice that mirrors the ruthless logic of the marketplace.
The Significance of Jewish Business in the Play
The portrayal of Jewish business, primarily through Barabas, holds profound significance within “The Jew of Malta,” serving as a potent catalyst for the play’s action and a critical commentary on contemporary society. Firstly, Barabas’s wealth is the engine that drives the entire plot. His initial dispossession sets in motion a chain of increasingly violent and complex events. Without his vast fortune, and the Christians’ covetous desire for it, the central conflict of the play would not exist. His subsequent use of money to manipulate, bribe, and destroy makes wealth an active, almost sentient, force in the narrative.
Secondly, Barabas’s business practices and the Christian response to them serve to expose the rampant hypocrisy of the dominant Christian society in Malta. While the Knights and the Governor ostensibly confiscate Barabas’s wealth for the “general good of the commonwealth” – to pay the Turkish tribute – their actions are steeped in self-interest and opportunism. They justify their theft on religious grounds, claiming that “it is no sin to plunder an infidel,” thereby demonstrating how religious doctrine can be twisted to legitimize economic exploitation. This mirrors historical instances of Jewish communities being targeted for their wealth by rulers facing financial crises. Marlowe subtly but effectively portrays the Christians as being just as, if not more, avaricious and morally bankrupt as Barabas. The friars, for instance, are shown to be intensely interested in Barabas’s wealth, fighting over the prospect of converting him to gain access to his riches, revealing their spiritual corruption. This challenges the audience’s assumptions about moral superiority and highlights the universal nature of human greed.
Moreover, Barabas’s approach to business is a direct reflection of Machiavellian pragmatism, a philosophical current that was gaining traction in Elizabethan England. Like Machiavelli’s ideal prince, Barabas operates on the principle that the ends justify the means. He is cunning, amoral, and willing to employ deceit, violence, and treachery to achieve his goals. His business acumen, divorced from ethical considerations, becomes a form of power that allows him to navigate and even control the chaotic world of Malta. In a society where survival depends on shrewdness and financial leverage, Barabas’s extreme Machiavellianism, honed in the cutthroat world of international trade, makes him exceptionally formidable. This elevates his character beyond a mere anti-Semitic caricature, presenting him as a figure who, despite his villainy, embodies a cynical truth about the pursuit of power in a volatile world.
Finally, Barabas’s Jewish identity, intrinsically linked to his business practices, underscores his social and religious ‘otherness.’ In a predominantly Christian society, his status as a wealthy Jew makes him both powerful and profoundly vulnerable. He is an outsider, a target for persecution, yet also an indispensable figure due to his financial prowess. His wealth sets him apart, fostering resentment and suspicion, and ultimately making him a scapegoat for the Christians’ financial woes. This dynamic reflects the historical position of Jewish communities in Europe, often tolerated for their economic utility but simultaneously marginalized and subjected to prejudice. The play thus uses Barabas’s business identity to explore themes of scapegoating, prejudice, and the precariousness of belonging for marginalized groups.
Malta as a Crucible for Broader Themes
The specific setting of Malta amplifies and crystallizes several broader themes that Marlowe explores in “The Jew of Malta.”
Greed and Avarice
Malta, as a bustling mercantile hub and a besieged island constantly in need of funds, serves as the perfect stage for illustrating the pervasive nature of greed. Every major character, regardless of their religious affiliation or social standing, is shown to be driven by avarice. The Maltese Knights demand [tribute](/posts/describe-important-attributes-of/) from their own citizens, the Turks demand [tribute](/posts/describe-important-attributes-of/) from the Knights, and Barabas is obsessed with his "bags of gold." The play suggests that money is the ultimate motivator, corrupting individuals and institutions alike. The island's economic instability and geopolitical pressures create an environment where the pursuit of wealth becomes not just a desire but a perceived necessity for survival, thus excusing all manner of immoral acts.Religious Hypocrisy
Perhaps the most biting critique illuminated by the Maltese setting is that of religious hypocrisy. The Knights Hospitaller, ostensibly devout defenders of Christendom, are portrayed as being just as, if not more, rapacious and immoral than Barabas. Their decision to confiscate Jewish wealth under the guise of religious righteousness ("no sin to plunder an infidel") is immediately exposed as an act of pure economic opportunism. The friars, supposedly men of God, are similarly depicted as venal and self-serving, obsessed with securing Barabas's fortune for their respective orders. Malta, as a Christian stronghold, thus becomes a site where the sacred is corrupted by the profane, revealing that [religious](/posts/discuss-significance-of-social/) piety can be a thin veneer over profound moral decay. This challenges the audience's assumptions about moral superiority and confront the universal human capacity for vice.Power and Politics
The precarious political situation of Malta, constantly threatened by the Ottomans and navigating complex [international trade](/posts/explain-concept-of-international-trade/) relations, highlights the volatile nature of power. Alliances are shifting, oaths are broken, and loyalty is dictated by strategic advantage and financial gain. Barabas’s own trajectory, from wealthy merchant to government official to collaborator with the Turks, exemplifies this fluidity. Power in Malta is shown to be transient and often brutal, acquired and maintained through manipulation, coercion, and betrayal rather than moral authority. The play suggests that in a world governed by Machiavellian principles, where survival is paramount, ethics become a luxury that no one, from the governor to the merchant, can afford.Justice and Revenge
"The Jew of Malta" presents a deeply cynical view of [justice](/posts/discuss-john-rawls-concepts-of-original/). Barabas’s initial act of revenge is a response to an injustice – the arbitrary confiscation of his wealth. However, his subsequent acts of cruelty far outstrip the initial wrong, demonstrating a cycle of escalating violence and disproportionate retribution. In Malta, [justice](/posts/examine-platos-concept-of-justice/) is not blind; it is warped by personal interest, religious prejudice, and financial necessity. There is no true moral compass, and every character, including the authorities, operates outside the bounds of conventional morality. The tragic ending, with Barabas falling into his own trap, suggests a kind of poetic [justice](/posts/environmental-justice/), but it is one devoid of any moral triumph, as the Christian authorities who orchestrate his demise are themselves deeply implicated in corruption.The Nature of Identity and "Otherness"
Malta, as a melting pot of Christians, Jews, and Turks, provides a vivid backdrop for exploring how [identity](/posts/what-makes-midnights-children/) is constructed, demonized, and exploited, especially in relation to economic power. Barabas, the quintessential "other," becomes a projection of societal anxieties about wealth, difference, and loyalty. His Jewishness is constantly foregrounded, making him both a target and a symbol. The play delves into the psychological impact of being an outcast, suggesting that Barabas’s extreme villainy is partly a defensive reaction to a world that has systematically persecuted and exploited him. This exploration resonates with broader Elizabethan societal anxieties about foreigners, religious minorities, and the perceived dangers of unchecked commercialism.In conclusion, “The Jew of Malta” uses the figure of Barabas and his entanglement in the island’s business world as the cornerstone for its powerful and unsettling exploration of human nature. Barabas, as the archetypal wealthy Jewish merchant, serves not merely as a caricature of prevailing anti-Semitic stereotypes but as a dramatic vehicle through which Marlowe dissects the corrosive effects of avarice. His obsession with wealth, his cunning business practices, and his ruthless Machiavellianism are presented as extreme manifestations of a societal ill that infects all characters, regardless of their religious affiliation.
The play ultimately argues that the relentless pursuit of material gain, particularly in a precarious and competitive environment like Malta, inevitably leads to moral bankruptcy and a breakdown of ethical principles. Marlowe skillfully employs the strategically vital and financially desperate setting of Malta to illuminate how economic pressures can warp religious piety, corrupt political power, and obliterate any semblance of justice. The seemingly virtuous Christian authorities are exposed as equally, if not more, venal and opportunistic than Barabas himself, driven by the same covetous desires they condemn in the Jew. Through this sharp critique, “The Jew of Malta” transcends its controversial depiction of Jewish identity to offer a profound and timeless commentary on the universal human propensity for greed, hypocrisy, and violence when money becomes the ultimate god.