THIS play was supposed to have been produced by Shakespeare in 1607-'8, but not published until after his death, and then first in the folio of 1623. The story is taken mainly from Plutarch, and partly from Lucian. There was, however, an English manuscript play before it, written by some unknown author, which, inasmuch as it contained the character of a faithful steward, and a mock banqueting scene like that introduced in our poet's version of "Timon,” has naturally received a portion of the credit of its origination. The faithful steward, it may readily be supposed from what we have seen of Shakespeare's tendencies, would not have appeared in "Timon," had not some one else produced him to his hand, as in the case of Adam, in "As You Like It"; and it is noticeable, moreover, that in this case our poet exhibits a disposition to reward the steward Flavius for his honesty, according to the original, which was more than he did for poor old Adam. The play is a satire upon the gratitude of the world, in which it seems to me that Timon is too readily transformed into a misanthrope, because a few flatterers, whom he had feasted in his wealthy days, refused to lend him money when he failed. The first evidence we have of the faithfulness of Flavius is in Act II, Scene 2, where we find the steward deploring, with many moans, the descent of Timon into bankruptcy. Nevertheless, he bewails his master's prodigality with such a natural consideration for the continuance of his own profitable post that he makes no great impression for virtuous disinterestedness. FLAVIUS. Heavens! have I said, the bounty of this lord! This night englutted! At the opening of the fourth act the bankrupt and disgusted Timon appears, self-exiled, without the walls of Athens, on his way to the woods, as a recluse. Presently, when driven by hunger to dig for roots, he discovers gold in large quantity at the base of a tree. The news of Timon's possession of gold is carried back to Athens by the army, and soon his old flatterers flock out to the wood to pay fresh court to him. Among the rest comes Flavius, the steward. He alone receives kind treatment from the misanthrope, along with gold, and Timon recognizes his honesty as follows: TIMON. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now My dangerous nature wild. Let me behold Thy face. Surely, this man was born of woman.— Perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim One honest man,-mistake me not, but one; Here, take the gods out of my misery Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich, and happy, But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone Ere thou relieve the beggar: Give to dogs What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow them, And may diseases lick up their false bloods! And so, farewell, and thrive. FLAV. O, let me stay, And comfort you, my master. TIM. If thou hat'st Curses, stay not; fly whilst thou art blest and free: Act IV, Scene 3. I make this quotation because this is the second instance only, out of twenty-nine plays, in which a man of less rank than a noble or a knight is spoken of with approbation and respect. The first instance, as I have already stated, is the feeble one of old Adam, in "As You Like It." It is worthy of observation, however, that one of the characters, at the opening of the next act of this play, reports that Timon had given to his steward "a mighty sum." And here it should be remarked, moreover, that the stewards of great lords and millionaires, like Timon, were often of exceedingly good families, as we see by the steward of Goneril in "King Lear," who is almost equal to a cabinet minister. This play furnishes us with but one other illustration bearing on our special points of view, and that springs from the rude construction of Timon's epitaph at the close. Those who favor the theory that Sir Francis Bacon was the author of the Shakespearean dramas denounce the epitaph on our poet's tomb for the meanness of its style, and boldly assert that it came from Shakespeare when he was drawing near his end, with no one of talent near at hand to help construct it. In order to measure the worth of this opinion, I will here quote the epitaph from Timon, and compare it with the other: "Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft, Pass by and curse thy fill; but pass, and stay not here thy gait." The following is the epitaph in the Stratford church, and it will be perceived that, so far as style is concerned, one doggerel has but little the advantage of the other: "Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear, To dig the dust enclosed here, Blest be the man that spares these stones, "In the arrangement of the plays of Shakespeare in a serial form, it would seem," says Hunter, "that 'Coriolanus' should follow 'Julius Cæsar' and 'Antony and Cleopatra,' since it was probably written after them." But he also gives it as his opinion that, inasmuch as "Coriolanus" belongs to a period of Roman history antecedent to that of the Cæsars, this play should precede the other two dramas in the collected editions of the dramatist's works. The Roman plays are remarkably destitute of notes of time, internal or external. They were probably produced in 1607, 1608, or 1609. "Coriolanus' itself was neither entered at Stationers' Hall nor printed till 1623." "The leading idea of the play and pivot upon which all the action turns," says Knight, “is the contest for power in Rome between the patricians and plebeians"; and I will add that, in agreement with all Shakespeare's previous exhibitions of aristocratic inclination, he again, in this play, constantly sides with arbitrary and despotic power against the liberties of the people. "The whole dramatic moral of 'Coriolanus,"" says Hazlitt, "is that those who have little shall have less, and that those who have much shall take all that others have left. The people are poor, therefore they ought to be starved. They work hard, therefore they ought to be treated like beasts of burden. They are ignorant, therefore they ought not to be allowed to feel that they want food, or clothing, or rest, or that they are enslaved, oppressed, and miserable." " 'Hazlitt's "Characters of Shakespeare's Plays," p. 74, edition of 1818. In fact, the critical reader will discover that the main purpose of this play is to deride the principle of popular suffrage; nay, to deny and scoff at public rights of all sorts, and especially to represent the working classes as mean, meritless, and cowardly. Coriolanus, the haughty patrician, on the other hand, though a cruel, conceited, overbearing brute, with no more policy or manners than are necessary to a brawny gladiator, is so handled by our poet as to irresistibly win the sympathies of every audience. The most singular, nay, surprising, proof of this power of enchantment on the part of Shakespeare is elicited from American hearers, who, in the face of their democratic bias, unthinkingly applaud the patrician despot at every insult he puts upon the masses, and hurra at each mock he makes at their competency to exercise opinion. This, while it says a great deal for the magic power of Shakespeare, reflects very little credit upon the discrimination of the American people; except, indeed, an admiration for his genius is to be set above their respect for republican principles. I will now proceed to allow Shakespeare to speak for himself, with the simple further explanation that a great extent of text is necessary, because, as I said before, the whole of this play is an essay against human rights and popular liberty : Act I, Scene 1.-Rome. A Street. Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons. 1 OIT. Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. ALL. Speak, speak. [Several speaking at once. 1 CIT. You are all resolved rather to die than to famish. CIT. Resolved, resolved. 1 CIT. First, you know, Caius Marcius [Coriolanus] is chief enemy to the people. CIT. We know't, we know't. 1 CIT. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. Is't a verdict? CIT. No more talking on't: let it be done: away, away. 2 CIT. One word, good citizens. 1 CIT. We are accounted poor citizens; the patricians good. What authority surfeits on, would relieve us; if they would yield us but the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved tis humanely; but they think we are too dear; the leanness that afflicts us, |