ending to this martial heroic play, which, though containing some magnificent passages, does not, on the whole, seem written in the poet's best style.

Yet the story of Troilus and Cressida evidently interested Shakespeare especially, as he again alludes to it in these beautiful lines;

"The moon shines bright-in such a night as this
When the sweet wind did sweetly kiss the trees
And they did make no noise-in such a night
Troilus methinks mounted the Trojan walls
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents
Where Cressid lay that night."

Merchant of Venice, Act V. Scene i.

TIMON OF ATHENS

IN this instructive, but in some respects revolting tragedy, Shakespeare apparently describes Timon, the Athenian millionaire, rather differently from the account given by some historical authorities.1 According to them, Timon was always a hater or despiser of mankind, while Shakespeare represents him at first as a too bountiful patron or benefactor to all around him. The ingratitude he encounters makes him change his nature and practically believe that "all men are liars," yet not in the excited "haste" admitted by the impulsive Jewish psalmist, in this terrible condemnation, but as the final morose conviction of an imprudent spendthrift. Shakespeare's Timon, a rich Athenian, first appears feasting, patronising and making presents alike to artists and to personal acquaintances. A needy poet, to some extent describes and foretells Timon's character, and probable future, fairly enough, yet really does nothing of service to his patron. He says to a brother artist, a painter, who also, with many others, seeks Timon's patronage at the latter's house:

"You see how all conditions, how all minds, tender down

Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune,

Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance

All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer

To Apemantus, that few things loves better

Than to abhor himself: even he drops down

The knee before him."

This Apemantus is a churlish, sneering, cold-hearted hater of mankind, perhaps slightly resembling Thersites in Troilus and Cressida, hated of all and hating. In history he is represented as friendly to Timon, but Shakespeare

1 See Lempriere's "Classical Dictionary."

describes him as without sympathy for any one. The poet proceeds, explaining his professional intentions to his brother artist, the painter:

"Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill,

Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mount

Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,

That labour on the bosom of this sphere,

"This Throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks

With one man beckon'd from the rest below, would be well expressed
In our condition.”

"When Fortune in her shift and change of mood,
Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot."

Painter:

"A thousand moral paintings I can show,

That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's
More pregnantly than words."

Timon himself now appears, beset by different applicants for relief, patronage, or assistance. With generous credulity, he grants almost everything his various suitors request. Among many others, the painter offers his picture, and Timon says:

"The painting is almost the natural man ;
And you shall find I like it: wait attendance
Till you hear further from me."

TIMON OF ATHENS

21

The poet previously presented his offer, and Timon answers in a similar strain :

"I thank you; you shall hear from me anon:

Go not away."

Soon after the odious cynic Apemantus appears, and has a strange talk with the kind, too generous Timon, whose prodigality is hastening his ruin by leaps and bounds. Apemantus, full of scorn and bitterness, and without a particle of real charity, ridicules all around him, poets, painters, and merchants, with all the coarse insolence of a thoroughly hardened embittered nature, when the brave Alcibiades, a grand contrast to him, appears before Timon. This remarkable man, once a pupil of the wise and good Socrates, is, in some respects, the noblest character in the play. He admires, even appreciates, the generous spirit of Timon, yet is for some time absorbed in Athenian politics, and during that time the unsuspicious Timon lavishes away his money in all directions. He gives a rich banquet, to which the reckless prodigal even invites Apemantus, while Alcibiades and other Athenian lords are also present. At this feast Apemantus is the last to appear, when the generous Timon exclaims :

"O! Apemantus, you are welcome."

Apemantus grimly replies:

"No; you shall not make me welcome :

I come to have thee thrust me out of doors."

Timon, thinking to please everybody, then says:

"I come to observe; I give thee fair warning on't."

Timon good-naturedly retorts:

"I take no heed of thee; thou'rt an Athenian; therefore welcome. Prithee, let my meat make thee silent,"

Apemantus:

"I scorn thy meat; t'would choke me.

O you gods! what a number

Of men eat Timon, and he sees 'em not!"

This is true enough, but there is no friendship in Apemantus. He scorns everybody and everything, and says in a sort of mock prayer,

"Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;

I pray for no man but myself:
Grant I may never prove so fond,

To trust man on his oath or bond."

Timon, full of hospitality, addresses his different guests, and exclaims to the most distinguished one:

"Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now."

The other, though always a brave, ambitious soldier, courteously replies:

"My heart is ever at your service, my lord."

Timon, knowing his martial nature, rejoins :

"You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a dinner of friends."

Alcibiades, a thorough warrior, replies :

"So they were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat like 'em : I could wish my best friend at such a feast."

Apemantus, with the bitterness of a thorough hater of mankind, exclaims, but no one heeds him:

"Would all those flatterers were thine enemies then, that then thou might'st kill 'em, and bid me to 'em."

The kind and noble-hearted Timon, a complete contrast to all present, believes they are each attached to him, or trusty friends, and in a general speech says:

"O you gods! think I, what need we have any friends, if we should ne'er have need of 'em? They were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for 'em, and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. We are born to do benefits; and what better or properer can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O! what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes!"

During this outburst of generous feeling and kindly