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When Shakespeare wrote Timon of Athens in the first decade of the seventeenth century, the name of the play’s title character already would have been known as an archetypal hater of humankind. Timon of Athens was a historical figure whose misanthropy was legendary. He lived during the Peloponnesian War, which lasted from 431 to 404 BCE, and hence was a contemporary of the famous military general Alcibiades. He is referenced in numerous Greek and Latin texts. Most notably, Plutarch recounted the life of Timon in his Parallel Lives, which Shakespeare would have read in Thomas Nashe’s translation. These accounts narrated the story of a wealthy man whose lavish generosity led him to financial ruin, and when none of his friends would bail him out, the newly embittered Timon was forced to work as a field laborer. Timon of Athens retells this famous story, dramatizing the title character’s disturbing transformation from philanthrope to misanthrope.
Timon’s transformation neatly divides the play—and, indeed, the character—into two halves. The play’s first half features a cheerful and generous Timon who happily greets his friends and spares no expense in their lavish entertainment. This Timon believes that friendship is rooted in the reciprocal exchange of gifts, but he also goes too far in his own gift-giving. Indeed, his spending is so profligate that he soon finds himself deeply in debt to the very lords on whom he bestows his most luxurious gifts. When he finds himself bankrupt and unable to convince his supposed friends to bail him out, Timon the philanthropist undergoes a sudden metamorphosis into Timon the misanthropist. No longer characterized by generosity and good cheer, this new Timon curses all of humanity with a deeply embittered heart. He renounces the corrupting power of wealth and leaves all society behind, retreating to a cave in the forest outside Athens. His bitterness remains untouched to the end of the play, when he appears to will his own death, leaving behind a strangely doubled epitaph that reflects his own duality. In the end, it’s somewhat ambiguous whether Timon is to be understood as a tragic or satirical figure.
