What’s it about? We are introduced to Timon, who we are led to understand is a very wealthy, very generous Athenian citizen. He showers his friends with gifts. Before we’re too far into the play, however, we find out that he has been spending somewhat thoughtlessly and has gotten himself into a difficult spot of financial trouble. Trusting that his friends, to whom he has given so much, will return his generosity, he asks for their assistance. None of his “friends,” however, are willing to help him out he faces the consequences of his spending and his financial ruin.
What is it really about? A wealthy, generous man experiences a reversal of fortunes. He turns to the recipients of his generosity for assistance only to find that they had selfish motives for their friendship with him and are not willing to return the favor and help him.
No, really. What’s it ACTUALLY about? The play is about generosity, trust, and asking for help. It is also very much about about human nature.
My thoughts:
Quite recently, I read The Art of Asking by Amanda Palmer. It is a book about trust, generosity, truly seeing other people, and (yes) asking for help.
When I read Timon of Athens a few days later, I felt like the two works were meant to be companions. They address many of the same issues and I found myself thinking about trust and generosity a lot over the following few days. Of course, betrayal and selfishness go right along with it, and these are two issues that are deep at the heart of this Shakespeare play. Timon asks for the help he needs. He asks the people who should be most able and willing to help him. He trusts his so-called friends to come to his aid. And they refuse.
To me, The Art of Asking and Timon of Athens are two sides of the same coin. The one urges compassion and trust with a strong optimism about human nature. The other shows/imagines what happens when that compassion and trust is misplaced, and we see a spiral into dark cynicism as Timon rails against humanity.
Likely because of my stage of life, I felt very connected to these themes, and with Timon’s desperate situation. I so wanted his story to have a happier ending (even though I knew, of course, that’s not what the play had in store), in part because I felt like it was the story of all of us. Trying to find and then walk the fine line between placing too much or too little trust in our fellow human beings. Too much trust leads us open to betrayal and heartbreak. Too little trust, and we’re left to lead a very solitary life.
The fact of the matter, which both The Art of Asking and Timon of Athens address, is that not everyone deserves our trust. One cynical character, Apemantus, described as a “churlish philosopher” in the Dramatis Personae, gives clear voice to this sentiment early in the play. “I wonder men dare trust themselves with men” (Act 1, Scene 2). He expounds on it a few lines later with a “prayer” that is both funny and desperately sad:
“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,
Or a harlot for her weeping,
Or a dog that seems a-sleeping,
Or a keeper with my freedom,
Or my friends if I should need ‘em.”
Timon, later in the same scene, offers what is essentially the counterpoint.
“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 keeps their sounds to themselves.”
In other words, Apemantus is wary of trusting anyone, but Timon points out that humans rely on each other, and there would be no point without trust.
To me, this is very similar to some points that Amanda Palmer makes in her book. She argues that asking for help means nothing if there is not the possibility of rejection. And trusting people means nothing if there is not the possibility of hurt/betrayal.
In this way, Timon of Athens embodies both the best and worst of human nature, as it does the the blessings and curses of trust.
I am convinced that, reading through all of Shakespeare’s plays this year, I will find at least one that makes me say, “Aha! There’s a dud.” I thought perhaps this would be that one.
It is not. Most definitely, it is not.
