Thomas Middleton (1)Rezensionen

3 stars for the play, 5 stars for the incredible, comprehensive academic study of it that runs through this 500-page volume.

In 1611 two experienced London playwrights collaborated on a new play dramatizing a real-life contemporary wonder, Mary Frith, known as Moll Cutpurse, "a sometime thief and notorious cross-dresser" (ix). In Feb 2023 at the Blackfriars theater in Staunton VA a group of enthusiastic amateur players offered a staged reading of the rarely performed play, prompting me to revisit it. It's at once clear why it has become popular in recent years, after almost 4 centuries of neglect.

The real-life Frith was charged with theft and a host of notoriously male behaviors - drunkenness, swearing, dueling, swaggering, and cross-dressing. Middleton and Dekker's Moll affects some of those behaviors but is presented sympathetically as an outspoken free-thinker transcending the rigid constraints of her class and gender. Such froward behavior attracts some undesired admirers to this "maddest, fantastical'st girl" (2.1.192) for her "heroic spirit and masculine womanhood" (2.1.336-7), but much of the play rehearses the knee-jerk attacks on one who "strays so from her kind [that] Nature repents she made her" (1.2.214-5). Her non-binary gender presentation is at the heart of her offense: "It is a thing One knows not how to name; . . . 'Tis woman more than man, Man more than woman, and . . . The sun gives her two shadows to one shape" (1.2.129-33). The fact that such attacks come from the play's senex, Sir Alexander Wengrave, who blocks a heterosexual pair of true lovers from wedded bliss, makes clear where the plot's sympathies rest.

The play offers Moll several memorable bits of stage business. Twice in act 3 when in male garb she draws her weapon to engage with and defeat male opponents. Then act 4 finds her placing a viol da gamba between her trousered legs to perform two songs about transgressive wives, and in act 5 she engages in a bout of "canting," a slang duel that ends with yet another song.

Her verbal climax comes earlier, in an articulate attack on a would-be seducer, the poorly endowed Laxton (lacks stone): "Thou'rt one of those That thinks each woman thy fond flexible whore. . . . What durst move you, sir, To think me whorish? . . . "Cause, you'll say, I'm given to sport, I'm often merry, jest? Had mirth no kindred in the world but lust? . . . I scorn to prostitute myself to a man, I that can prostitute a man to me. . . she that has wit and spirit May scorn to live beholding to her body for meat Or for apparel . . . Base is the mind that kneels unto her body . . . My spirit shall be mistress of this house As long as I have time in't" (3.1.72-140).

Though Moll is the play's featured character, her part in the love-plot is relatively small. It is mostly limited to unmasking plotters and dodging entrapment while allying with the young lover Sebastian Wengrave to cozen his father and marry his true love Mary (about whom the roaring girl says "I pitied her for name's sake, that a Moll Should be so crossed in love" (4.1.68-9). Much of the play is taken up with the misadventures of two city gallants, whose attempts to "wap, niggle and fadoodle" (5.1.189-95) with two housewives and bamboozle their husbands are thwarted by the wives themselves.

In the end, though this city comedy flirts with transgression at every turn, it ends up affirming heterosexual marriage and wifely wiles. Sir Alexander the senex apologizes for his errors and praises Moll as "a good wench" and the foxy housewives as "kind gentlewomen, whose sparkling presence Are glories set in marriage" (5.2.268-9). Perhaps the chief roarer speaks for her sisters as well as herself when she proclaims, "I please myself, and care not else who loves me" (5.1.332).

In 1611 two experienced London playwrights collaborated on a new play dramatizing a real-life contemporary wonder, Mary Frith, known as Moll Cutpurse, "a sometime thief and notorious cross-dresser" (ix). In Feb 2023 at the Blackfriars theater in Staunton VA a group of enthusiastic amateur players offered a staged reading of the rarely performed play, prompting me to revisit it. It's at once clear why it has become popular in recent years, after almost 4 centuries of neglect.

The real-life Frith was charged with theft and a host of notoriously male behaviors - drunkenness, swearing, dueling, swaggering, and cross-dressing. Middleton and Dekker's Moll affects some of those behaviors but is presented sympathetically as an outspoken free-thinker transcending the rigid constraints of her class and gender. Such froward behavior attracts some undesired admirers to this "maddest, fantastical'st girl" (2.1.192) for her "heroic spirit and masculine womanhood" (2.1.336-7), but much of the play rehearses the knee-jerk attacks on one who "strays so from her kind [that] Nature repents she made her" (1.2.214-5). Her non-binary gender presentation is at the heart of her offense: "It is a thing One knows not how to name; . . . 'Tis woman more than man, Man more than woman, and . . . The sun gives her two shadows to one shape" (1.2.129-33). The fact that such attacks come from the play's senex, Sir Alexander Wengrave, who blocks a heterosexual pair of true lovers from wedded bliss, makes clear where the plot's sympathies rest.

The play offers Moll several memorable bits of stage business. Twice in act 3 when in male garb she draws her weapon to engage with and defeat male opponents. Then act 4 finds her placing a viol da gamba between her trousered legs to perform two songs about transgressive wives, and in act 5 she engages in a bout of "canting," a slang duel that ends with yet another song.

Her verbal climax comes earlier, in an articulate attack on a would-be seducer, the poorly endowed Laxton (lacks stone): "Thou'rt one of those That thinks each woman thy fond flexible whore. . . . What durst move you, sir, To think me whorish? . . . "Cause, you'll say, I'm given to sport, I'm often merry, jest? Had mirth no kindred in the world but lust? . . . I scorn to prostitute myself to a man, I that can prostitute a man to me. . . she that has wit and spirit May scorn to live beholding to her body for meat Or for apparel . . . Base is the mind that kneels unto her body . . . My spirit shall be mistress of this house As long as I have time in't" (3.1.72-140).

Though Moll is the play's featured character, her part in the love-plot is relatively small. It is mostly limited to unmasking plotters and dodging entrapment while allying with the young lover Sebastian Wengrave to cozen his father and marry his true love Mary (about whom the roaring girl says "I pitied her for name's sake, that a Moll Should be so crossed in love" (4.1.68-9). Much of the play is taken up with the misadventures of two city gallants, whose attempts to "wap, niggle and fadoodle" (5.1.189-95) with two housewives and bamboozle their husbands are thwarted by the wives themselves (as in Shakespeare's Merry Wives).

In the end, though this city comedy flirts with transgression at every turn, it ends up affirming heterosexual marriage and wifely wiles. Sir Alexander the senex apologizes for his errors and praises Moll as "a good wench" and the foxy housewives as "kind gentlewomen, whose sparkling presence Are glories set in marriage" (5.2.268-9). Perhaps the chief roarer speaks for her sisters as well as herself when she proclaims, "I please myself, and care not else who loves me" (5.1.332).

No wonder that Thomas Middleton is thought to have had a hand in this play, it has his bleak, fatalist conception of mankind written all over it. In pace and structure as well as in its themes it anticipates post-modern 20th century theatre. A marvelous work that, alongside its convoluted creation, is clearly a one-off.

نمی‌دونم از بس تعریف شده بود ازش، از حد انتظارم پایین‌تر بود و یا چونکه قبلاً تو یه نمایشنامه که اقتباسی مدرن از این نمایشنامه بود نقش کوچیکی رو بازی کرده بودم و خیلی با این نمایشنامه تفاوت داشت، به دلم ننشست.
به هر حال به نظرم داستانش لاغر بود و به خوبی بقیه نمایشنامه‌های شکسپیر بسط و گسترش نداشت.

Je n’arrive pas à me souvenir comment j’ai entendu parler de cette pièce, mais cela fait un bon bout de temps que j’ai dans l’idée de la lire. C’est enfin chose faite et, si ce n’est pas la pièce la plus célèbre de Shakespeare, j’ai pris un plaisir certain à la lire. D’abord pour les mots de Shakespeare (j’ai lu la pièce en français, mais j’ai la chance d’en avoir une version en anglais sur mes étagères et j’ai lu les passages les plus savoureux en anglais, et qu’est-ce que ça sonne bien. Les pièces en vers ont vraiment quelque chose de particulier, et les lire ou les voir jouer est un régal pour les oreilles). Ensuite pour l’histoire. Un peu caricaturale, certes, comme le sont beaucoup de fables, mais tout de même très intéressante.
Timon est un citoyen athénien d’une grande générosité. Sa fortune est immense et il ne peut concevoir de ne pas en faire profiter ses amis. Il les aide lorsqu’ils sont dans le besoin, et il n’hésite ni à leur faire des cadeaux somptueux ni à leur offrir des festins à la hauteur de l’immense amitié qui les lie. Mais Timon est un peu cigale, et à force de générosité, ses fonds s’épuisent. C’est à son tour de devoir se tourner vers ses amis pour leur demander leur soutien. Et ce qui devait arriver arriva : aucun de ses amis n’est prêt à le secourir, aucun ne risque un seul penny pour lui venir en aide. Timon ouvre les yeux sur les relations humaines et s’aperçoit que ce n’est pas à force d’argent et de cadeaux que se forge l’amitié, et il en conçoit une haine farouche pour l’ensemble du genre humain, ce qui fait de lui, plusieurs siècles avant Alceste et de façon bien plus radicale, l’archétype du misanthrope.
Shakespeare aurait trouvé l’inspiration pour cette pièce dans un paragraphe de Plutarque faisant référence à ce personnage qui aurait effectivement existé. Il reprend quelques-unes des légendes qui tournent autour de ce personnage, le rendant d’autant plus tragique. Parce que, plus que ce qui peut expliquer la haine de cet homme pour le genre humain, c’est la violence de cette haine, c’est son caractère extrême et entier, qui lui fait tout à coup détester les hommes sans voir toutes les marques d’humanité qui l’entourent. Je suppose que c’est le personnage qui veut cela, d’abord extrême dans son amitié, d’une candeur et d’une naïveté qui peuvent être attendrissantes ou qui peuvent prêter à sourire (selon la personnalité et l’humeur du lecteur ou du spectateur, je suppose), il devient, dès la première épreuve qui remet en cause son système de pensée, extrême dans sa haine, violent en paroles et en actes symboliques, inconsolable et impossible à raisonner. Et pourtant, des hommes fidèles, il y en a autour de lui, Flavius, son intendant n’étant pas le dernier. Mais il est aveuglé par sa misanthropie et incapable de la voir, et c’est ce qui rend la pièce et le personnage tragiques, aux deux sens du terme.
Et me voilà donc émue par ce personnage, touchée non vraiment par ce qu’il dit de l’amitié et des relations humaines, mais plutôt par l’entièreté de son caractère. Cette pièce de Shakespeare est peu connue, on peut lire ici ou là que ce n’est pas sa meilleure. Certes, mais j’ai beaucoup apprécié cette lecture, avec une pièce qui a tous les ingrédients des grandes pièces classiques, et je ne serais pas contre aller la voir au théâtre s’il prenait la fantaisie à des acteurs de la mettre en scène. En un mot, une pièce de théâtre comme une petite perle à découvrir.

Wealthy Athenian Timon spreads his wealth generously and hold parties. After giving all his wealth away, he discovers his so-called friends only cared about his wealth. He spends his remaining days in a cave. Shakespeare borrowed from other sources to create this work, and critics attribute portions to other authors. It's not among Shakespeare's best efforts.

Plutarch tells us that Timon was a noted misanthrope, of legendary proportions in Athens during the Peloponnesian war. Shakespeare uses this simple idea to write a very acerbic play about how most of one's friends are really convenient acquaintances already to share in good times but not willing to help in times of need. After losing or giving away his money, Timon leaves Athens for the woods, and once there he makes a fortuitous gold strike which he uses to fund Alcibiades successful capture of the city. Then he dies, unhappy with his experience with the bulk of mankind.

Maybe I need to see a good performance to like it.

This is a weird one for me. I'm basically slowly plowing through the various plays and I'm the first to admit that I'm quite ignorant on the world of Shakespeare. I see others commenting on how this was a collaboration with Middleton and I think...who the hell's Middleton?

I think it should be noted that, as I (far too rapidly) approach my sixth decade on the planet, I decided to right a wrong from high school. That is, to come at Shakespeare's works with no expectations, just to enjoy them, to love the language, and let them wash over me as they will. Because in high school, Mr. Elsie (who looked remarkably like an undernourished G.I. Joe action figure...think G.I. Joe Inaction Figure) had us autopsy a couple of Shakespeare's plays, flaying virtually every scene and demanding that we wring out every ounce of subtext and meaning we could either glean or simply make up to appease the teacher enough to award a respectable, if ultimately disappointing grade. In short, he killed all enjoyment of Shakespeare's works for me, an avid reader even then.

So here I am, four decades later, coming at them and mostly enjoying them. Which is a long way back around to this particular play.

Supposedly this is a comedy, and while it held some smirkable lines, it didn't have me laughing out loud as some of his earlier works did. It's not quite a tragedy, yet Timon cuts a rather tragic figure.

And of all of Shakespeare's works, I'll admit to literally never having heard of this one until I started working on his entire output of work. And ultimately, while it's not my favourite by any means, I did enjoy Shakespeare's take on the "no good deed goes unpunished" theme.

H1.31.4

Pure entertainment.

The Phoenix

Middleton bursts on to the scene with a highly competent, if unambitious, debut tragicomedy with the level of peril to be found in, say, Much Ado About Nothing. It doesn't have Shakespeare's level of wit, poetry or word-play but it does have a slight satirical edge absent from most of the Bard's work, more reminiscent of Ben Jonson, in fact. (Lawyers and judges come in for heavy criticism, some of it in very comic fashion.) Certain tropes of the era are present; disguised characters and treason against the ruling family, for example, drive this well-constructed plot to it's neat set of final scene revelations and resolutions. I'd go see this ahead of several of Bill's lesser works.

News from Gravesend: Sent to Nobody
Thomas Dekker, Thomas Middleton

Published as a "pamphlet," a form of publication that the study of Shakespeare's work will not even reveal the existence of, this is a poem about the plague, prompted by the outbreak of 1603, which was a particularly severe one for the period. It is prefaced by an "Epistle Dedicatory" of unprecedented length, taking up nearly half the pamphlet. The dedicatee is "Nobody" a symbolic personage who is specifically not any real person. The reason for this is explained in the Epistle as
a plea for a change from writers currying favour from rich patrons in order to earn a living to some other method. This and the subsequent attack on the wealthy members of the legal professions for abandoning London to its fate in favour of Winchester during plague outbreaks is all rather political and I'm surprised that it passed the censors. There's nothing directly attacking the King or the institutions of the Monarchy so perhaps they were not too bothered.

I'm not much familiar with the lyric poetry of the period. I've read Shakespeare's contributions and nothing else to speak of. Being neither a narrative poem, nor the sort of personal topics addressed in the sonnets, but instead a discursive examination of a topical subject with moral, political and philosophical implications, this was again unique in my experience. It's also good, with some exceptionally vivid imagery (buboes like purple grapes sticks in my mind) although the science of disease is entirely discredited, now, as is the notion put forward by the authors that it is really a God-sent punishment of the immoral.

A very interesting read from the perspective of learning about the Jacobean literary world and on its own terms as a literary work.

Father Hubburd's Tales

Another satirical pamphlet, existing in two versions, the later of which is longer and contains three stories rather than two. There's an academic debate about how this state of affairs came about and I'm still reading about it in the Middleton Companion. There's a frame story about an ant that can transform into a human, telling his adventures to Philomel of Metamorphoses fame in her nightingale form. Each story is satirical, attacking the class structure and poor treatment of...poor people. The last seems heavily autobiographical, being about patronage of writers. I detect considerable bitterness over the matter, considering also that the "Epistle Dedicatory" of News from Gravesend makes the same points. There's also further attacks on lawyers and the negativity towards lawyers and judges seems to be rooted in personal experience, too, his mother having been embroiled in divorce proceedings and subsequent disputes for years. Anyway, it's a fun little set of tales.

The Patient Man and the Honest Whore
This is a comedy that reminds me of Much Ado About Nothing, which has two plot strands that don't really have much to do with each other and are mainy an excuse for wit and shenanigans. Here it is the same, although one could argue that there are actually three plot strands loosely woven together, eventually being tied up together in a neat bow by the end of the long final scene.

There's plenty of wit and potential for comedy here, though it's not on the level of Benedick and Beatrice's bickering and I think it could be successfully staged for contemporary audiences.

This is the second work in this volume where it is believed that Middleton was the junior partner to Dekker and I have to say on this evidence Dekker is himself worth a read. The average standard of writers of the period seems ridiculously high.

I read somewhere the suggestion that one reason why Middleton fell off the radar whilst Shakespeare did not is that he couldn't be Bowdlerised, because if you tried you'd find nothing was left of many of his works. This would be a case in point; central characters and an entire plot strand would have to be removed. Not even the title would survive unscathed.

Anyway, amusing daftness!

The Wisdom of Solomon Paraphrased

Absolutely atrocious! Even dramatists with excellent reputations were once inept teenagers, it seems - usually they don't get their horrible juvenilia published before they enter their third decade, though. No wonder the dedicatee didn't cough up any money for this poem - it's complete drivel that nobody with any appreciation would want to be associated with. For completists only and best treated with a big dollop of laughter in order to stave off a breakdown. It's a very loose adaptation of one of the apocryphal books of the Bible; probably best to read it there.

The Whole Magnificent Entertainment
Being several pageants, by several authors, in celebration of the coronation of James I of England - delayed several months by a plague outbreak. Several descriptions of the affair were published shortly afterward and here they are conflated into a complete description of all parts. Each part takes the form of a Triumphal Arch, constructed from wood for the event, under which the Procession of the King, his family and retinue (which was extensive) passed. The Arches were populated with allegorical and mythical figures, some of whom gave speeches. Middleton's contribution is one of these speeches.

It's an odd literary form that I had not come across before, mainly because of the dominance of Shakespeare - who never wrote a pageant - over all other writers of the era. His lack of participation in any genres but drama, lyric and narrative verse tends to obscure the fact that any others existed! Middleton was freelance and turned his skill to any form of literature that would pay.

Michaelmass Term
This is a comedy reminiscent of Jonson, being set in London and featuring swindlers and conmen as the villains - Volpone and The Alchemist spring to mind. It doesn't have Jonson's extremely heavy reliance on Classical Greek and Latin literary references, though. It also reminds me of Shakespeare, with dense punning and daft romantic plot lines. Unfortunately, most of the wit and puns are focused on bawdy double-entendres and the like that have, over time, mostly become very obscure and opaque, requiring the copious glosses to be recognised and understood - and we all know that a joke that has to be explained isn't funny any more. Presumably circa 400 years ago everybody would have been smirking and sniggering throughout.

The story offers plenty of opportunity for other laughs, though, with hardly anybody recognisable to one or more others, including close family members (one character going through at least four aliases!) and the ensuing dramatic irony providing laughs and tension in equal measure.

It's structurally conventional, with main plot and sub-plot, but the sub-plot is poorly integrated and might have been better excised completely. The final Act resolves everything extremely abruptly, as was the usual fashion. But plot structure did not seem to have the same level of importance then that we tend to give it, now. For example, examine the structure of A Midsummer Night's Dream; it's a complete disaster! That doesn't stop performances being magnificently entertaining, though.

Microcynicon, or Six Snarling Satires

This second item of juvenalia confused scholars for some time because the external evidence suggested it was by Middleton but it seemed too immature to be his. Then they learned he was born ten years earlier than previously supposed...

It's a vast improvement on The Wisdom of Solomon, but it's still not great poetry. It takes a pretty weird turn by satirising satire towards the end! The satire against "ingles" leads me to believe Shakespeare might be a misleading representative of the era in his apparent tolerance of homosexuality.

A Trick to Catch the Old One
Apparently widely considered to be Middleton's best comedy, yet for me certainly less funny than Michaelmas Term. I struggled through this, but through no fault of Middleton's; my mental health has been unreliable and reading anything demanding in those circumstances is tough, as I know well from experience. Pausing until improvement makes for it's own problems with following a convoluted plot involving characters whose relationships can be difficult to keep clear. So this didn't really receive an optimal hearing. Nevertheless, despite perhaps not being the funniest, this play is interesting in social and moral terms. It makes a courtesan not only the heroine but clever and spirited enough to be instrumental in her own success in beating the odds and securing herself a respectable future. It also promotes the values of repentence and forgiveness and sympathises with Jane as largely a victim in ending up as a kept mistress in the first place. These are emerging themes in the canon that contrast with Shakespearean heroines who tend to be accused of crimes of which they are innocent. Middleton instead has women who are socially disgraced but are victims of circumstance or malice rise up and gain respectability, which he considers a form of natural justice.

The Ghost of Lucrece
Middleton's take on the story of Lucrece and Tarquin is to summon their ghosts from Hell and listen as Lucrece gives her complaint. In a period of less than four years, Middleton went from the risible Wisdom of Solomon Paraphrased to this, a vastly more competent effort. It's still a bit muddled, with even the most learned academics still a bit confused between the voices of Lucrece, Tarquin and the author in places but you can read it for more than unintended humour, at least.

A Mad World, My Masters
Of the comedies so far, this seems to me to have the most obvious opportunities for visual humour and is more Shakespearian in approach, too. That said, it's still a city comedy rather than an aristocratic or royal one and the theme of socially outcast women making good is all present and correct.

I really read this here:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/30864936?book_show_action=false

Allegedly Shakespeare's least popular play, written in collaboration with Thomas Middleton who wrote at least the whole of Act 3. Timon is astonishingly one-dimensional both as a play and a character who falling from power through naive and extreme generosity, turns into an extreme exemplar of misanthropy when he finds his friends faithless. It's like Lear raging against his fate but for two acts...the passion and vitriol is magnificently expounded but it does pall after a while. It's also a surprising contrast to the famously complex characterisation found in Shakespeare's major Tragedies. The plot is also exceedingly simplistic, even more so than a lot of the shenanigans of the Comedies.

Middleton's contributions, whilst not reaching the heights of Shakespeare's are nevertheless not bad in any way. Reading Shakespeare's collaborative plays is teaching me that many of his contemporaries, whether rivals or colleagues, were very able dramatists and worth pursuing on their own merits. Jonson is widely considered closest in stature to Shakespeare but Middleton is the collaborator/adaptor of MacBeth, which is many people's favourite "Shakespeare" play and his passages here stand up pretty well, too. I am, therefore, looking forward to tackling [b:Thomas Middleton: The Collected Works|2425465|Thomas Middleton The Collected Works|Thomas Middleton|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1348387148s/2425465.jpg|2432652] (which cost a fortune but was a very well received gift.)

This feels in some ways like very early Shakespeare and it is therefore surprising to find it is supposed to have been written between the Quarto Lear and MacBeth. Some believe that the misanthropic tone professed by Timon, along with the already noted similarity to Lear's raging, are indicative of some kind of crisis in Shakespeare's life during this period that left him feeling exceedingly negative about human nature - if so, it might also explain why the late comedies are "darker" in tone, too.

I find myself in agreement with the critics who say Timon is great poetry but not great drama and that most audiences will little appreciate it because they will not be in sympathy with its mood.

Of all his plays, this is probably the most maligned, it being perhaps a collaboration with Middleton, but any way you look at it, it is a striking piece.

The simple plot gives way to wild passions and simple fortunes and some of the broadest brush strokes I've ever seen. It's also as stark as death.

From great fortune and flatterers surrounding him, Timon is the absolute Good Man who gives away all his fortune to hear the praise of assholes. When he loses it all and asks for help from all his so called friends, they spit in his eye. He goes mad, hating all mankind and goes to live as the basest beggar, wildly exhorting all comers to do evil upon everyone else, to break and spite and die.

Finding fortune under his feet, even as he's digging tubers to eat, serves him nothing at all. He hates, and gives away his wealth to old friends who happened upon him, to whores, thieves, and lickspittles, all to just get rid of them.

The bile from Timon's mouth is pretty awesome. The man has gone from pure goodness to pure rageful spite overnight, and one thing that most readers or viewers of this play might discover is that there is no third act. Its message is as plain and stark as day, even if some of the secondary characters make interesting counterpoints, such as in not wanting so as to not to welcome either happiness or grief, or the last note in the music, where compromise and peace has got to be a better note to go out on than Timon's.

For when he dies, he dies hating all humanity, and there is no quarter, no justice, and only abject nihilism.

Of course people aren't going to like this play. :)

BUT.

If you're of a certain twisted temperament and like a twisted tale that defies expectations, such as an esoteric bad horror fan or a devotee of Samuel Beckett, then you might just discover that this little jewel might fit in your dark-hearted crown, or at least in a shit-stain'd seat of honor.

'Tis dark. Very dark. Expect no light or quarter. :)

Timon of Athens kan vara Shakespeares minst spelade verk (möjligen i konkurrens med något av historiespelen). Det har länge setts som oavslutat, experimentellt, kanske till och med kontaminerat genom samarbete med någon annan författare (horribla tanke). Det låter sig inte delas in i fem akter (vilket, oavsett att man numera vanligen nöjer sig med en paus, tydligen är viktigt), det är en tragedi (med termens ursprungliga mening), där huvudpersonen inte dör på scen, det finns en bihandling som helt plötsligt börjar och som visserligen interagerar med huvudhandlingen men vars relevans är svår att se, och det innehåller en lång scen där huvudpersonen gömmer sig i skogen och interagerar med en hel räcka personer, dock utan att det blir mycket av handling av det. Vissa delar av handlingen rinner ut i sanden. Dessutom är den kort. Och enda anledningen till att pjäsen bevarats och vi ens vet att den skrivits tycks vara att det var något problem när Troilus och Cresseida skulle tryckas i Första folianten, så att Timon fick bli inhoppare.

John Jowett, redaktör för Oxfordutgåvan, erkänner många av dessa problem (i synnerhet det där med samarbete med en annan författare, identifierad som Thomas Middleton baserat på diverse statistisk textanalys, även om han kanske inte riktigt ser det som ett problem). Problemet med längden tycks han nästan själv vilja åtgärda, medelst ett förord av ovanlig längd, längre än till och med andra i serien: i denna volym är den kritiska apparaten av samma omfång som själva texten. Däremot tycks han inte anse att det gör Timon till en misslyckad pjäs: det finns vissa partier som förvisso med fördel kan strykas, och annat som kanske skulle behöva förankras bättre, men han tycks mena att det är en högst spelbar pjäs, som dessutom kan ta publiken med överraskning då den är mindre känd än mycket annat av Shakespeares hand.

Själva handlingen är snabbt sammanfattad: Timon tycks leva för att visa upp sin generositet, ger flådiga fester och skänker bort dyra gåvor. En dag tar pengarna slut, och han försöker hålla sig flytande genom att låna av sina »vänner«, som dock vägrar, varför han till slut flyr ut i skogen för att leva enstöringsliv. Samtidigt förvisas Alkibiades från staden då han alltför ivrigt försvarat en soldat mot en anklagelse för dråp. Timon, som nu hatar mänskligheten och rikedomen, hittar guld, och ger bort till diverse folks om av olika anledningar söker upp honom, innan han dör, varefter Alkibiades försonas med Atens styresmän och allt är över.

Det ges en del möjligheter till härligt bittra tirader, och det förekommer en cynisk filosof som kommer med ovälkommet insiktsfulla kommentarer, men oavsett detta är det svårt att bortse från att pjäsen tycks oavslutad: bud skickas till personer men man får aldrig höra något om svaret, avslutningen är oväntat klumpig, hatet mot mänskligheten som Timon uppvisar leds aldrig över i ens partiell försoning som i Kung Lear. Men, alla aber till trots: det är trots allt Shakespeare, och även om Middleton tycks vara en andraplansfigur så var han dock en del av den engelska teaterns gyllene ålder, och skriver flyhänt han också. Kanske inte det bästa av Shakespeare, men om det här är hans sämsta så har han mycket lite anledning att skämmas.½

Wow. Okay, that was just awful. Gives Edward III serious competition in the race to the bottom. It's like someone said to Shakespeare, “Bet you can't make a more unlikeable protagonist than Titus Andronicus,” and Shakespeare said, “Oh yeah? Here, hold my ale!”

Timon has the good fortune to be born to wealth and position in Athens, and manages to blow through absolutely all of his money by endlessly playing the “Lord Bountiful,” ignoring the protests of his more sensible steward, glorying in the flattery and sycophantic sucking up of toadies. Where he might be sympathetic as an “excessively compassionate” sort if he gave away all his money to people in real need, Timon's generosity seems to be directed mostly at comfortably well-off friends. He hauls out his jewel chest at parties, ostentatiously handing out gems as party favors, and, remembering that a friend admired the horse he was riding recently, announces “'Tis yours, because you lik'd it.” He's maybe a step away from lighting his cigars with $100 bills. Until the funds are all gone. And, shocker, his buddies no longer care about him. Who, in the noble Timon's estimation, is to blame for his downfall? Himself, perhaps, and his own reckless irresponsibility? His friends, who enjoyed his largesse but don't want to help him when he's in trouble? Nope. ALL MANKIND. That's who's to blame. All the women, maidens, toddlers, infants, slaves, old men, etc. of Athens.

”Spare not the babe, whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; think it a bastard, whom the oracle hath doubtfully pronounc'd the throat shall cut, and mince it sans remorse. Swear against objects, put armor on thine ears and on thine eyes, whose proof nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, shall pierce a jot.”

There are a few amusing exchanges, and Timon's steward is a lovely, devoted fellow who does his level best, but his master is an idiot and a jerk. This is a relatively short play, but it sure felt like it went on forever.

Most likely this play plays better than it reads. I'm sure that actors have a lot of fun with these changing changeling characters! In the barebones Amazon edition that I read it was often difficult to figure what was going on - the characters frequently use veiled, duplicitous, or purposefully obscure language to hide their intentions or actions from others - or even from themselves!

I'm looking forward to seeing "The Changeling" at Stratford (Ontario) this summer [2017].½

Even for revenge tragedy, Act Five verges on lunacy.

Heh: write a review Shakespeare? No!

A group I'm in is reading through the so-called problem plays and it's very surprising and very fun. The Arden 3rd edition posits the author, Shakespeare or Middleton, act & scene by act & scene, which adds another level of interest. One would do well to ignore most of the notes, at least until after reading the text, but of course it's nice to have them all, along with quantities of other information. A sort of hero of mine, James Shapiro favors these edition, and after this first experience of one, I can see why.

As so often happens with Shakespeare works, the theme of financial overextension and fleeing friends is startlingly contemporary.

I could see that I had arrived at the autumn of the Bard's career when I reached his collaborations with hacks.

I would like to think that the parts of the play I didn't like were the work of the hack. I assume that he was responsible for the Alcibades scenes reading like some schoolboy was doing an adaptation of Coriolanus as an classroom assignment or the perfunctory setup of Timon's future woes or the dimwitted idea of having the hero die off-stage. By contrast, I credit the Bard with the stinging reproaches ("Uncover, dogs, and lap") and the magnificent rants (and the Bard can rant) and the unmasking of fraud and hypocrisy (take that, poet and painter). A bad play with great moments.

P.S. I just realized what it really lacked - no strong women characters!?

Timon is a wealthy man who is happy to help his friends whenever they need him. He loans money without a second thought, helping one man marry the woman he loves and another pay off an outstanding debt. Soon the tables turn on Timon and he finds himself out of funds and in need of help. He soon discovers that fickle friends disappear when the coffers runs dry. He ends up exiled in the woods, disillusioned and angry.

As is the case with many of Shakespeare’s lesser known plays, this one shares themes and plot points with some of his more successful work. There are so many similarities with King Lear, the popular character becoming a friendless outcast, betrayal by those who are meant to be his truest supporters. Both plays also have one supporter who remains loyal to the title character: Cordelia (the daughter) in King Lear and Flavius (the steward) in Timon. Lear makes many of the same basic points in a more powerful way. There were also a few spots that reminded me of Coriolanus, including the banished character aiding an enemy force in attacking his former home.

Timon of Athens feels a bit disjointed. The first half is cheerful and optimistic, but once he is deserted by his friends and living in the woods it takes on a much darker tone. Scholars have apparently attributed this to a joint authorship. I have no idea if that’s true, but with the flow of the story it certainly makes sense.

BOTTOM LINE: Not one of my favorites, but another insight into Shakespeare’s development as a playwright. I love seeing him hone his skills in different works and seeing the many factors that affect whether that play will fail or succeed. I would love to see this one performed live.

“The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.”

“Lips, let sour words go by and language end:
What is amiss plague and infection mend!
Graves only be men's works and death their gain!
Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign.”

I read this because it was heavily referenced in Pale Fire and I see the thematic link there regarding exile - I guess I should re-read Pale Fire again having read it but I never re-read anything. Anyway, it's actually pretty good. According to wikipedia it's one of the Shakespear plays that don't fit as cleanly in the comedy/tragedy division as the others - conventional wisdom is supposed to be that it's a tragedy, but personally I'd describe it as more of a black comedy. So of course I like it. I love the climax, where in one last grandiose gesture Timon lets Athens know who it can go fuck (itself), and how Apemantus's presence in the story finally builds to and culminates in a lengthy scene where he and the protagonist go at it full-bore line for line for multiple pages. Also, Alcibiades is in it! Although disappointingly he's apparently this stock-character Alcibiades originating in Plato instead of the lovable scampini I remember from Thucydides (seriously, it seems like a totally different guy).

I'm rating this 5***** based on the quality of the Norton Critical Edition, and note that this review applies specifically to the NCE. (There's also a New Mermaid edition with which I'm not familiar, and anyone who just wants a quickie read-through of the play might well be contented with the Kindle freebie.)

The Roaring Girl is a reasonably good play – not great by any means, mind you, but still quite good. It's of particular interest, though, to the archaeology of gender studies, and readers might be interested in reading this Norton Critical Edition in tandem with Ellen Galford's quite entertaining novel Moll Cutpurse: Her True History published in 1993 by Virago Press. This Norton Critical Edition is superb for its supplementary materials, including Jacobean pamphlets attacking cross-dressing, accounts of Moll herself published in her own lifetime or shortly after her death, and twentieth and twenty-first century critical studies of The Roaring Girl primarily from the perspective of gender studies but with some other topics such as underworld cant on the Jacobean stage.

Moll is the maid, or pretty young daughter, of Yellowhammer, a goldsmith. She has two men vying for her hand. One is the wealthy Knight, Sir Walter Whorehound, who already has two mistresses, one of whom has several of his children. Yellowhammer favors Sir Walter for a son-in-law. The second suitor is Tuchwood Junior, whose older brother is a local conman. He is Moll's choice, which forces scheming.
A second plot line involves Tuchwood Senior's con of the wealthy Sir and Lady Kix, a couple who are at each others throats over their lack of children.

This play is a comedy that gets crude and raunchy and probably had its audiences choking with laughter. Puritan women get sloppy drunk, the aristocratic are impotent and obnoxious, the newly educated are pretentious fops and there are constant double entendres about sex. The play did well enough that it was still being published nearly two decades later, then seems to have disappeared from the stage completely until a revival in 1956.

Since this was most likely written around 1613 (it was first performed that year), getting the most out of it would take some doing. I mean that even if you're familiar with Shakespearean language, this is a little more challenging. I read from the Fountainwell Drama Texts, edited by Charles Barber, and it was a decent enough copy but I did feel there were some explanations missing.