The Library Annex

Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft:
Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked caitiffs left!
Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate:
Pass by, and curse thy fill; but pass, and stay not here thy gait.

Through the first three Acts, this play has a unique rhythm compared to other Shakespeare work. The construction seems more methodical, outlined, and lacks in the kind of grandiose poetry one learns to expect from Shakespeare. But then the fourth and fifth Acts…

The initial character dynamics are simple enough. Timon, a noble lord of Athens, builds his wealth in friendship and thereby, perhaps irresponsibly, generously distirbutes his financial wealth among those friends whether they be in need or as gratitude for gifts they give him. Apemantus, in himself a foreshadowing of the coming change in Timon, crassly observes that Timon’s friends behave as leeches on his skin and charges Timon with foolery for enjoying it. Of course, the Shakespearean sooth-sayer proves right and when Timon needs financial help, his friends offer their kind excuses.

In the latter half of the play, Timon rebukes humanity and himself transforms from man to beast. Being such scorned by his duplicitous friends, he condemns humanity overall for their base nature and therefore wants no part of their world. And here is where Shakespeare’s pen begins to fly. Timon’s speeches, his fall to cynical likeness with Apemantus, and his freedom to scorn as the archetypal fool satisfies the audience and gives them a sense of justice served.

However, is justice truly served if Timon himself cannot be resurrected back to the system that originally condemned him? Had he yearned for a fate that would see him lifted back to his position, perhaps the plot would have resolved differently. But Timon’s admonishment of humanity itself, rather than the circumstances of his fall, really intrigues me. In this, Shakespeare presents a unique criticism of humanity rather than just his character’s life. Even while living as a beast, he showers his visitors with gold as he did in his former life, but does so while calling them whores and satirically chastising them for their human nature. And when senators plead for help against Alcibiades’ threat to Athens, he responds in the same kindly refusal as his friends offered him. The latter half of the play truly showcases the other side of the coin, like a perfectly inverted photograph. And in this perspective we cheer for karmic retribution on Timon’s offenders but still sympathize with Timon as we watch his person degrade.

Or, perhaps the audience ought to challenge their own instinctual feelings and empathize with Timon rather than cheer for his offenders’ suffering of eye for an eye. Perhaps Timon’s fall from Athens brings him a true freedom, though paired with a scarred disposition, and Timon would have it no other way. Why, then, cry for him?

O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us!
Who would not wish to to be from wealth exempt
Since riches point to misery and contempt?
Who would be so mock’d with glory? or to live
But in a dream of friendship?
To have his pomp and all what state compounds,
But only painted, like his carnish’d friends?
Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart,
Undone by goodness! strange, unusual blood,
When man’s worst sin is, he does too much good!
Who then dares to be half so kind again?
For bounty, that makes gods, does sill mar men.
My dearest lord, – bless’d to be most accurs’d,
Rich only to be wretched, – thy great fortunes
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!