I was intimidated going into this one. I won't lie. Every essay I've ever read puts it on this pedestal, vying with Hamlet for MOST IMPORTANT THING ON EARTH and knowing how long it took me to understand Hamlet, I was sure it would take forever for me to grasp any of it. But you know what? I'm clearly so acclimatized to Shakespeare's wiles and ways at this point in the year (and in life) that this was supremely enjoyable to consume and digest. Yes, it's got more brain fiber than a salad bar (and it's just as deadly right now during a global pandemic) but it is enlightening and entertaining and so solidly written that I'm sad to let it go.
What's a good brain laxative? *reality programming* Ah yes, that's right. A few episodes of Terrace House will clear me out before Macbeth. Oh Lord. Macbeth.
I still don't feel entirely qualified to give an upfront analysis on this one. One day when I read it a few more times, and I'm comfortable and settled into its memory foam luxuriousness, I shall have more to expound upon. For now, however, my brain has picked up the kernel of a concept, and it's a doozy, but it's fun: what if Hamlet had lived, as well as Ophelia (at least for a little while) and he managed to take England, and after having some kids with Hamlet, Ophelia tragically succumbed to plague or whatever, leaving Hamlet to rule until he was 80? Would he not essentially be Lear? Shakespeare loves to develop and re-develop his characters and plots over the years, improving them and sculpting them into even more realistic and (im)perfect humans? It's a tasty idea, anyway. I just have this feeling that I might be able to glean some clues from both texts to prove that Hamlet isn't dead. We shall see!
The only other thing I can say is look out for allusions to pagan belief systems, family politics, identity, the inconstancy of Nature, madness, and anything to do with eyes. Eyes are a big one. They are everything. For now, I need to get the profoundly complex double plot down pat in the book and volume of my brain.
ACT I
The premise is largely derived from Holinshed's account of the Brythonic legend of King Leir, a pre-Roman Celtic leader. It opens with Gloucester and Kent, King Lear's courtiers and close Lords, as they gossip about which of Lear's daughter's husbands will be favored most when the kingdom is divided amongst Lear's heirs. Gloucester introduces Kent to Edmund, his bastard son whom he loves as much, if not more than his legit son, and makes lewd jokes about how fun it was to sire him. Lear enters with his daughters--Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia--along with Albany (husband to Goneril) and Cornwall (husband to Regan). Lear gets right down to the business of declaring who will inherit what, now that Lear has decided he is tired of being King and wants to leave all duties to his descendants. He also mentions that the King of France and the Duke of Burgundy have sojourned to seek youngest Cordelia's hand.
Lear asks his daughters which of them loves him most. Goneril, being eldest, speaks first, and gives a goodly answer:
Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter;
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;
As much as child e'er loved, or father found;
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.
Alright, fair enough. Cordelia whispers to herself, wondering how she should answer, then Lear bequeaths some lands to Goneril. Regan speaks next:
Sir, I am made
Of the self-same metal that my sister is,
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short: that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys,
Which the most precious square of sense possesses;
And find I am alone felicitate
In your dear highness' love.
Regan says "What Goneril said, that's what I'm thinking." Lear accepts this and gives Regan some lands equal to Goneril's. Cordelia worries about what she should say. Lear asks what she can say that is as sparkling and loving as her sister's words. The following exchange is most famous and shocking to Lear:
CORDELIA: Nothing.
LEAR: Nothing?
CORDELIA: Nothing.
LEAR: Nothing will come of nothing, speak again.
CORDELIA: Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty
According to my bond, no more or less.
This proves devastating to Lear, who expected her to pour out words of such love that he would probably find reason to give her all his lands. She adds that she doesn't wish to marry because all her heart belongs to Lear. He takes this entirely the wrong way, and curses her by saying "Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower," along with a bunch of other nasty things. Kent protests at this, and Lear shuts him up, then calls for Burgundy. He tells his other daughter's husbands to divide up the remaining third of lands between them. Lear says he'll take 100 knights as his train and will dwell with his daughters in equal turns.
Kent is aghast and asks Lear WTF he shall do for the rest of his life now and HELLO Cordelia loves you more than you think! Lear tells him off and goes to grab his sword, but Albany and Cornwall stop him. Kent warns Lear that he is doing wrong, and Lear yells at him, ordering that he quit the kingdom in six days, on pain of death. Kent replies with "Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here." He then wishes Cordelia well, tells Goneril and Regan that their actions better match their words, then leaves.
Damn. I feel terrible for Kent. He seems a decent fellow.
Gloucester enters with France and Burgundy and Lear asks them what dowry they want for his youngest daughter, whose "price has fallen." Burgundy then turns up his nose at this new development and Lear asks France if he will take her. France wonders what the hell happened that so suddenly Cordelia is out of favor. Cordelia says it is because she lacks that "glib and oily art" of silver-tongued deceit, and not something truly bad. Lear responds icily: "Better thou Hadst not been born than not t' have pleas'd me better."
That is HARSH as it comes. Damn.
France thinks Lear insane not to value Cordelia, and says to Burgundy that "She is herself a dowry." Aweee, how sweet! Or at least as sweet as it gets around here. Burgundy denies her again and France says he's crazy too, for she's a total prize, and offers to take her to a better place where she will be Queen. Lear says fine, and no blessings be with you, and heads out. France tells Cordelia to say farewell to her sisters, and she says she knows they are false, and that she wishes her poor father to be in better company. Goneril and Regan say good riddance, you got what you deserved, and Cordelia answers:
Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides:
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
Ohhhhh that is so classy of her to say it like that! There could have been a cat fight just then.
Cordelia leaves with her betrothed and Goneril and Regan get to talking about how they're going to babysit their father. They note how Lear's mind has changed so rashly re: Cordelia, and attribute it to "the infirmity of his age" and how "he hath ever but slenderly known himself." They shake their heads and agree that they must work together to un-fuck up Lear's mess, especially now that Kent is gone.
Well, THAT was a scene. Juicy HBO-worthy family disputes.
Next, we flip over to Edmund, who was quiet before, but now soliloquizes his sharp mind:
Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
I wonder what's in that letter that is going to take Edgar down? Gloucester enters just then, talking to himself about the shitstorm that just went down with Lear. He notices that Edmund is hiding a letter and inquires repeatedly about it. Edmund says it's from his legit bro and doesn't think it fit for his father's eyes. Gloucester reads the forged letter, which touches upon a murder plot so Edgar and Edmund can share their father's lands sooner rather than later. Gloucester is enraged at this Iago-level conspiracy. Edmund defends Edgar, saying his heart probably wasn't in his words, but Gloucester is already beyond pissed and wants Edgar sent for so he can rip his head off. Edmund earnestly protests, saying he shouldn't do anything rash until Edgar has a chance to defend himself. Edmund proposes another Iago-like scheme to have Gloucester stand by, hidden, while he and Edgar talk, so that "auricular assurance" can be gleaned. Gloucester agrees to this plan, and cites the "late eclipses" as proof that the heavens delivered the scourges on Britain. He leaves and Edmund seems to laugh at his father's superstitions:
This is the excellent foppery of the world, that,
when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeit
of our own behavior,--we make guilty of our
disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as
if we were villains by necessity; fools by
heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and
treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards,
liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of
planetary influence; and all that we are evil in,
by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion
of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish
disposition to the charge of a star! My
father compounded with my mother under the
dragon's tail; and my nativity was under Ursa
major; so that it follows, I am rough and
lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am,
had the maidenliest star in the firmament
twinkled on my bastardizing.
I mean, he's not wrong. Astrology is BS.
Edgar comes to him and asks what's on his mind. Edmund says he's contemplating recent astrological predictions. Edgar wonders since when is he into astrology? Edmund changes the subject and says their father is mad as hell at him and he should arm himself and hide in his quarters. Edmund tosses him the key, Edgar leaves, totally confused, and Edmund pats himself on the back for his cunning treachery.
Elsewhere, Goneril is enraged because her father is acting like an unruly frat boy, and his knights are not helping. She whinges on about his behavior:
Idle old man,
That still would manage those authorities
That he hath given away! Now, by my life,
Old fools are babes again; and must be used
With cheques as flatteries,--when they are seen abused.
She tells Oswald, her steward, to deal with Lear when he gets back from hunting while she writes to her sister about what to do with Lear.
Nearby, Kent is in a commoner's disguise and calls himself Caius, putting on a different accent and everything. He finds Lear and asks permission to be his loyal servant. Lear says why not and then calls for dinner and his Fool. Lears asks Oswald about his daughter and Oswald goes to fetch her. Lear calls Oswald back but he refuses and one of Lear's Knights has to explain that Oswald won't listen to him and everyone seems to be less respectful to Lear these days. Lear also notices the "great abatement of kindness." The Knight says that the Fool hasn't been around much since Cordelia has left them. Lear sends him to find the Fool anyway and Oswald returns. Lear berates him and beats him until "Caius" pushes him out of the way. Lear pays "Caius" for his assistance.
The Fool, who has no name, which is odd, since every other fool seemed to have one and this fool is the most famous of them all, finally arrives. He immediately jokes that Lear should wear his coxcomb hat, implying that Lear is the real fool around here for doing what he did with his lands and daughters. The Fool drops some knowledge:
Mark it, nuncle:
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest,
Set less than thou throwest;
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score.
Lears says he speaks of nothing, and the Fool asks "Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle?" which feels like a scathing burn, reminding us of his exchanges with Cordelia. He makes many satirical comments, as is his wont and privilege as a court fool:
LEAR: Dost thou call me fool, boy?
FOOL: All thy other titles thou hast given
away; that thou wast born with.
KENT: This is not altogether fool, my lord.
Lear warns him that he shall be whipped for lying, and the Fool says his daughters will have him whipped for speaking the truth, and he's even whipped for holding his tongue. He adds that "I had rather be any kind o' thing than a Fool, and yet I would not be thee, nuncle." He shuts up when Goneril comes and speaks her mind about Lear's terrible behavior. She says that she wishes he would use his brain for once and give up his nonsense. Lears asks if anyone knows who he is and the Fool interjects, saying he is "Lear's shadow." Lear says one wouldn't know that he is Lear by the way he is treated, and Goneril says that with a house full of debauched knights, no wonder Lear doesn't know who he is, for her home feels more like a riotous tavern. She suggests he rid himself of half his knights and he erupts as Albany shows up to witness Lear's fury. Lear rants about Cordelia and hits Albany on the head. Albany is scandalized and Lear curses him and his daughter to an issueless womb or at least a "child of spleen" that will teach her what it feels like to have a "thankless child."
Lear departs for Regan's house and Albany is just like WTF was that all about? Goneril orders the Fool follow Lear and tells Oswald to deliver her letter to Regan. Albany is completely at a loss for words and Goneril basically says that she appreciates that he is full of "milky gentleness," but that he is also less wise than he is mild. Oh, very nice. Thanks a lot.
Lear, gathering his horses, has Kent carry letters to Gloucester. Lear and the Fool banter about wisdom and how his daughter just treated him. The Fool continues his jabs at Lear:
FOOL: If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten
for being old before thy time.
LEAR: How's that?
FOOL: Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst
been wise.
ACT II
A courtier, Curan, informs Edmund that Cornwall and Albany may be at war with each other soon, and that Regan is coming to Gloucester's home. Edmund loves this news and he calls Edgar out of hiding. He tells him to run away, but he sees Gloucester coming, so he draws his sword and tells his brother to pretend he is escaping his attack. Edmund wounds himself just as Edgar flees with Gloucester's men in pursuit. Edmund lies to his father, saying he encountered Edgar, who tried to persuade him to MURTHER their father together, and when he declined, Edgar struck him and ran. Gloucester says Edgar will be found eventually. Cornwall, Regan, and their people show up, asking what has been going down. Gloucester explains the situation and Regan says she's just gotten letters from both Lear and Goneril about the fight they had and how Lear is on his way to Regan's castle, which is why she left to see Gloucester--so she could avoid him and his knights. Cornwall praises Edmund for defending Gloucester so valiantly and takes Edmund into his service.
Outside Gloucester's castle, Kent (as "Caius") meets Oswald and brutally upbraids and insults him, to Oswald's wonderment. Kent draws his sword and Oswald screams, bringing Edmund over, along with Cornwall, Regan, and Gloucester. Kent continues to shower Oswald with scathing words and Oswald tries to defend himself. Cornwall calls for the stocks and Kent says he serves the King, and Gloucester intervenes, saying the King will be unhappy to see his messenger treated so, but Regan says it is in answer to the offense of threatening Oswald and they put Kent in the stocks anyway. They leave, but Gloucester stays with Kent, apologizing for this mess, and says he will entreat for him. Kent says don't bother, for he is tired and he can rest in the stocks just fine. Gloucester leaves him and Kent muses upon the letter he has from Cordelia, who knows about his secret disguise.
Edgar, alone, soliloquizes that he shall strip himself of his courtly clothes and dress as a dirty beggar so as to escape detection by Gloucester's men. He calls himself "Tom" and thus casts off his name as well. Everyone is just casting off everything these days, running around "naked" in the wilderness one way or another, as you do when you're losing your grip on life. Soon the storms come and all I can say is Hey Billy, are you having an existential crisis, buddy? Because your art is pretty grim right now.
Lear and the Fool come upon "Caius" in the stocks and Lear doesn't want to believe his daughter was responsible, so he becomes monumentally pissed off. He leaves Kent and the Fool to chat while he goes to find someone to whom he may complain. Meanwhile, the Fool mines some more nuggets:
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind;
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to the poor.
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours
for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
All that follow
their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and
there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him
that's stinking.
*finger snaps*
Lear returns with Gloucester and Gloucester is way too blithe about calling out the Duke and Regan. Still, he comes up with some good lines:
Infirmity doth still neglect all office
Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind
To suffer with the body
Gloucester brings Cornwall and Regan, and Kent is set free. Lear lays into Goneril, and when Regan defends her sister and asks that he return to Goneril's house, he mocks her, saying Goneril halved his train and there's no way he's going back there. He says he knows Regan won't halve his train, that she's a good daughter, and she asks him to get to the point of his flattery. He demands to know how and why Kent was put in the stocks. Just then, Goneril arrives and Lear sneers at her, still asking about Kent. Cornwall admits that he put him there. Regan asks again that Lear go back to Goneril's house, and at the end of the month, he may come to her home, if he leaves half his train. Lear is offended by this plan and says Goneril is a "disease that's in my flesh." He says he'll stay with Regan and his hundred knights. Regan says she's not prepared for such a party and there's no need for fifty followers, or even twenty-five. At this suggestion, Lear says that he gave them both his entire kingdom and they won't even allow him his knights! How dare they! He then insists he go with Goneril, because she'll at least allow him fifty. Goneril then says why do you even need ten or five? Regan says why even one?
Lear loses his shit, saying that if you take away everything from a man, what will separate him from the beasts?
O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous:
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,--
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,
That all the world shall--I will do such things,--
What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep
No, I'll not weep:
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!
Always in the midst of Lear's biggest bellows, Lear's heart is a painful centrifuge, separating wisdom from folly. As the play progresses, he seems to learn his wrongs as a King and only figures out his familial flaws too late, as we shall see.
A great storm whips up as he leaves with Gloucester and the Fool following. Cornwall, Regan, and Goneril go to shut the gates, telling Gloucester to leave Lear be and let him brave the storm himself for all they care. Gloucester thinks this callus, but they convince him back into the safety of the castle. Regan says "O, sir, to wilful men The injuries that they themselves procure Must be their schoolmasters."
ACT III
The storm continues its fury as Kent meets a Gentleman who reports that Lear is out "unbonneted" against the winds, with naught but his Fool for company. Kent tells him that there are secret spies from France gathering info on how terribly negligent the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall have been of late. Kent asks the Gentlemen to take his ring and go to Dover to deliver the message about Lear's mistreatment to Cordelia while he goes and finds the King.
Lear asks the storm to do its worst against him and the world along with it. The Fool, to no avail, tries to convince Lear inside, for "Here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools." Lear ignores him and contrasts the thunder and lightning to his daughters, saying he has no beef with Nature. Kent finds them and says he's never seen such a storm before and Lear encourages the rains even more:
Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp'd of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou perjured, and thou simular man of virtue
That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practised on man's life: close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man
More sinn'd against than sinning.
Kent leads him toward a hovel and asks him to take what little shelter he can. Lear, the Fool, and Kent leave to find the hovel.
At Gloucester's castle, Gloucester complains to Edmund about how Cornwall and Regan have taken over his castle and have prevented him from helping Lear. He tells Edmund to go distract the Duke while he goes out and searches for Lear. Edmund of course uses this an an opportunity to get his father in trouble.
Kent keeps goading Lear into the hovel but Lear refuses, more apt to stay outside and face the storm. Lear tells the Fool to go inside first, and Lear has a sudden empathy for all the "wretches" in the world who must endure such weather so houseless as he. He blames himself and all more fortunate rich folks, and asks that the Nature "shake the superflux to them [the poor], And show the heavens more just." Is that "trickle-down" Reganomics or redistribution of wealth? Lear appears to be runing for office.
The Fool runs out of the hovel yammering about a spirit named "Tom." Edgar, in his dirty disguise, comes out. Lear asks if he, too, has given away everything to his daughters, leaving him derelict. Edgar poses as a madman and spews nonsense. Lear insists that only daughters could have done this to this poor man, and it's more clear than ever why feminists are not fans of this man and his play. As a feminist myself, I find it entirely too easy to dismiss his misogynistic comments as deep anger coming from his very personal experience and perceived wrongdoing.
Edgar goes on to tell what he used to be--just another member of the King's court, acting as any man would in that position:
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled
my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of
my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with
her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and
broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that
slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it:
wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman
out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of
ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth,
wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of
silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot
out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen
from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.
Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind:
Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny.
Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.
Lear replies with much sympathy:
Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer
with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies.
Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou
owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep
no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on
's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself:
unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare,
forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings!
come unbutton here.
[Tearing off his clothes]
Just then, Gloucester finds them all and Edgar calls him a devil and generally acts like a clown until Gloucester says to Lear "What hath your Grace no better company?" and says he will help Lear despite Regan's orders, and find them a better place to shelter. Like OMG let's get your buck-naked ass indoors, old Sir.
Back at the castle, Cornwall speaks with Edmund, who shows him his father's secret letter that proves he is working against Cornwall. Edmund pledges his loyalty and Cornwall says he will be Earl of Gloucester now. Everything is going as Edmund so deftly planned.
Gloucester leads the strange party to an outbuilding of his castle and once inside, they put on a mock trial of Lear's daughters in absentia. Edgar becomes so emotional about his state that he finds he may not be able to fake his madness any longer. Kent tells Lear to lie down and rest already. Gloucester returns to them and Kent says the King must rest, for he has lost his wits, but Gloucester says there is a death plot out on Lear's life and they must flee to Dover. They carry Lear out and Edgar soliloquizes about how suffering is easier with friends:
When we our betters see bearing our woes,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
Who alone suffers suffers most i' the mind,
Leaving free things and happy shows behind:
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er skip,
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
How light and portable my pain seems now,
When that which makes me bend makes the king bow,
He childed as I father'd! Tom, away!
Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray,
When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee,
In thy just proof, repeals and reconciles thee.
What will hap more to-night, safe 'scape the king!
Lurk, lurk.
Somewhere along the way, the Fool is lost, and drops out of the play entirely. Who knows for sure what fate had in mind for him. For a while the Fool was Lear's only trusted friend, but as Lear (re-)accumulated his old friends and family, perhaps Lear finally became his own fool and no longer required such companionship. Just sayin'.
A French army has landed in England, and Cornwall tells Goneril to show her husband the letter from Gloucester. He declares him a traitor and Regan and Goneril can't wait to punish him. Oswald enters to say that Lear and a bunch of his knights have escorted him away to Dover. They go to gather horses to track down Gloucester, but just after they leave, servants bring Gloucester to Cornwall and Regan, who sit him down and viciously interrogate him. Gloucester admits to helping his King:
Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night endured, would have buoy'd up,
And quench'd the stelled fires:
Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
Thou shouldst have said 'Good porter, turn the key,'
All cruels else subscribed: but I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such children.
Regan orders Gloucester be held down so she can torture him but one of the servants refuses and stabs Cornwall before Regan kills the servant. It's not clear if one or both Regan and Cornwall pluck out Gloucester's eyes, but the disturbing deed is done and in his pain, Gloucester is told that Edmund betrayed him and he swiftly repents what he has done to Edgar. Regan and Cornwall leave him and the remaining servants to minister to their master's wounds.
ACT IV
Edgar, out on the heath somewhere, waxes philosophical about how it's better to know you're despised than to be flattered without knowing you're despised. Gloucester appears then, with an Old Man. Gloucester wants to be left alone and the Old Man reminds him that he is blind, so Gloucester responds that he sees better without eyes:
I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
I stumbled when I saw: full oft 'tis seen,
Our means secure us, and our mere defects
Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath!
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,
I'ld say I had eyes again!
The Old Man spots the poor man "Tom" and Gloucester says the other night he saw a beggar man who reminded him of his son (DUH). Gloucester asks the Old Man to bring clothes for "Tom" and let him lead him to Dover, and says "'Tis the time's plague, when madmen lead the blind." Gloucester asks Edgar to bring him to Dover, where he plans to off himself:
There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully in the confined deep:
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear
With something rich about me: from that place
I shall no leading need.
Back at Albany's palace, Goneril meets with Edmund and Oswald says Albany is acting strange at the news of French spies in the land. Goneril rolls her eyes at her weak husband and kisses Edmund, telling him to lead the armies in Cornwall. Albany enters, and Goneril complains that Albany uses to give more of a shit about her and he straight up says "O Goneril, You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face." Ohhhh SICK BURN. He goes on to shame her for treating her father as she has and she just calls him a "milk-liver'd man" and scolds him for not raising an army against the oncoming France. He says she's lucky to be a woman or else he'd tear her apart. A messenger comes and says that the Duke of Cornwall has been killed by a servant who was defending Gloucester from getting his eyes plucked out. Albany says karma is a bitch and asks where Edmund is and the messenger says Edmund was the one who ratted his own father out to Cornwall.
Near Dover, Kent meets with a Gentleman, who brings news of France's departure and Cordelia's reception of Kent's letters. Here, Shakespeare gives the Gentleman such a beautiful description of her reaction, it's a shame it's just a throwaway exchange:
Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears
Were like a better way: those happy smilets,
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief,
Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,
If all could so become it.
Kent leads the Gentleman to Lear and tells him not to reveal his true identity to the King while they speak with him.
At the French camp, Cordelia asks soldiers to go find her father and a Doctor says that they can cure Lear if he just gets some goddamn shut-eye. The British forces are on their way.
Regan questions Oswald about Goneril's message to Edmund, clearly jealous that she may be carrying on with him. She argues that because her husband is dead, she will have more use of Edmund than Goneril, even though she knows Goneril has been making eyes at Edmund.
Meanwhile, Edgar is leading Gloucester to the top of a "hill." Gloucester doesn't quite believe "Tom" but he says that Gloucester's blindness has fucked up his other senses, which is the exact opposite of what everyone says, but he's desperate not to allow his father to jump to his death like this, so he'll say anything. Edgar stops and describes the "cliff" below. Gloucester hands him money for his help and Edgar says in an aside "Why I do trifle thus with his despair I done to cure it."
Gloucester kneels and prays, then "leaps" and only has a pratfall. Edgar convinces his father that he survived a great drop just now and it's a friggen miracle that he's alive. Gloucester is disappointed. Lear appears out of the blue, wearing a crown of flowers and weeds. He sees Gloucester and says he looks like Goneril with a white beard. When Gloucester says he recognizes the King's voice, Lear confirms his title, then goes off on how some laws are unjust and as usual, he carries on about the terrors of women:
Ay, every inch a king:
When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? Adultery?
Thou shalt not die: die for adultery! No:
The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly
Does lecher in my sight.
Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son
Was kinder to his father than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.
Behold yond simpering dame,
Whose face between her forks presages snow;
That minces virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name;
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are Centaurs,
Though women all above:
But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
Beneath is all the fiends';
There's hell, there's darkness, there's the
sulphurous pit,
Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie,
fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet,
good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination:
there's money for thee.
Lear then speaks about how true nature can be hidden by surface things:
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks:
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em:
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;
And like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not...
When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools.
Just hit a Lear-shaped piñata and little wisdom droppings will fall out.
A Gentleman sent by Cordelia finds Lear and wants to take him to her, but he runs off and they go after him. Edgar asks where the armies are and then goes to lead Gloucester away, but Oswald enters, and upon seeing Gloucester, wants to kill him, but Edgar fights him off and kills him. Edgar takes some letters out of Oswald's pocket and reads them, finding it a semi-love letter from Goneril to Edmund, plotting to kill her husband.
In a French tent, Cordelia is with Kent and a Doctor, talking about Lear's arrival and how he's finally gotten some sleep. They bring him in and play soft music. Cordelia kisses her father tenderly and she mulls over his experiences since she left him:
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face
To be opposed against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick, cross lightning? to watch--poor perdu!--
With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog,
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn,
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all.
Lear wakes and seems to have regained his wits enough to know he had lost them:
Pray, do not mock me:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia...
Be your tears wet? yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not:
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:
You have some cause, they have not.
To this, Cordelia tearfully answers "No cause, no cause." She has forgiven him of course, because she is Cordelia.
Kent and a Gentleman chat about what happened to Cornwall and where Edgar could possibly be, and they leave to ready for battle.
ACT V
Edmund and Regan meet at the British camp near Dover. Edmund asks her if Albany's orders still stand and she just comes right out and asks if Edmund loves Goneril and if he's been to her "forbidden place." *gigglesnort* Edmund doesn't deny his affections, but before they can chat more, Albany enters with Goneril to announce that he'd rather not fight this fight, and that his beef is only with France and not Lear. Albany and Edmund go to discuss combining armies and Regan asks Goneril to follow her so she can get her away from Edmund. Goneril refuses at first, but then relents. Just then, Edgar (in disguise) accosts Albany with a letter and leaves. Edmund tells Albany that they're ready to strike and Albany leaves. Edmund talks to himself about how he is manipulating the sisters:
To both these sisters have I sworn my love;
Each jealous of the other, as the stung
Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?
Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd,
If both remain alive: to take the widow
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;
And hardly shall I carry out my side,
Her husband being alive. Now then we'll use
His countenance for the battle; which being done,
Let her who would be rid of him devise
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy
Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia,
The battle done, and they within our power,
Shall never see his pardon; for my state
Stands on me to defend, not to debate.
The French army, led by Cordelia, with her father in tow, march between the two camps at Dover. Battle ensues, and Edgar leads Gloucester to a tree to wait out the danger. He leaves for a moment, then returns to his father with news that Lear and Cordelia have been taken by the English army (that was fast!). Edgar says they must endure going hence or hither, adding that "Ripeness is all," which draws a notable parallel with Hamlet's Act V, Sc. II statement about how "Readiness is all." Both conclusions signal wisdom earned by traumatic experience and deep understanding that Nature is in charge.
Edmund brings in his prisoners, Lear and Cordelia. Cordelia despairs, but Lear comforts her, seemingly content that he's simply with his beloved daughter again:
No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison:
We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage:
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,
And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,
Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out;
And take upon's the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out,
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,
That ebb and flow by the moon.
Here, Lear appears most wise, because he recognizes that "sects of great ones" go in and out of favor with humanity's whims and notions, including himself, as King. He's content to spend any short time at all with his beloved daughter in prison, because their love is most important.
Edmund sends them off and then bribes the Captain to execute them. Albany, Goneril and Regan come, demanding the captives, which Edmund says he'll hand over the next day. Albany bristles at this, and tries to put Edmund in his place. Regan announces that Edmund might as well be in charge because she intends to marry him and use her army to attack Albany's army. Goneril freaks right out and Albany arrests Edmund for treason and they both throw down their gloves. Regan suddenly grows ill and Goneril whispers that she's poisoned her. Albany has Regan taken away and a Herald comes to read off an announcement that anyone who wishes to challenge Edmund may come forward. Edgar comes, masked, and fights Edmund in single combat. Edmund falls and Goneril tries to get him off on a technicality but Albany shoves her love letter to Edmund in her face and tells her to STFU.
Edgar finally shows himself and Albany is relieved to see him. Edgar then tells his story:
List a brief tale;
And when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst!
The bloody proclamation to escape,
That follow'd me so near,--O, our lives' sweetness!
That we the pain of death would hourly die
Rather than die at once!--taught me to shift
Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance
That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost: became his guide,
Led him, begg'd for him, saved him from despair;
Never,--O fault!--reveal'd myself unto him,
Until some half-hour past, when I was arm'd:
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw'd heart,
Alack, too weak the conflict to support!
'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.
This "unscene," in which we learn the ultimate fate of Gloucester, was perhaps just too much tragedy to be acted as a real scene. Holy crap.
Both Edmund and Albany are deeply moved by this speech, and Edgar adds that Kent had come right after Gloucester died and embraced Edgar and wept over Gloucester's body. A soldier comes with a bloody knife and says that Goneril used it to stab herself and she died, but not before confessing that she poisoned Regan. Kent comes and a soldier hauls in the sisters' bodies. Kent is super confused. Edmund sees this murder-suicide as proof that he was "belov'd" and with his dying breath, tells them to hurry up and stop the execution of Lear and Cordelia, but Lear walks in, carrying the slain Cordelia in his arms, with Edgar behind him. Lear cries out for his daughter:
Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so
That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!
I know when one is dead, and when one lives;
She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.
Everyone is horrified. Lear says that if
This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,
It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.
This harkens back to Henry IV, Part II, Act IV, Sc. V, where Hal spies a "downy feather which stirs not" and makes him believe his father is dead. Feathers are mentioned very frequently in Shakespeare's plays, often paired with breath, wind, and ephemera, symbolizing the unpredictable and fickle nature of humanity. Appropriately for this scene in King Lear, feathers also signal kinship, which he finally regained with Cordelia right before her death. As Emily Dickinson wrote, "Hope is the thing with feathers," and Lear's hope rides on one, if only for a moment. He has realized how very turbulent this world can be, having seen his own mind (and the loyalties and outward appearances of people around him) vacillate throughout the play.
Kent kneels beside his King, lamenting with him over the loss. Lear doesn't seem to recognize him, and Edgar has to remind Lear that this is Kent. Lear curses everyone for not rescuing Cordelia, and he thinks he hears her voice, in a moment so heartbreakingly beautiful as he understands her purity and his mistake, for only Desdemona was more pure than she, and only Cordelia more human than Desdemona:
Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha!
What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman.
This throws into sharp relief what he said to her in Act I, Sc. I: "Mend your speech a little, Lest you mar your fortunes" ; "Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her." He sees that her "nothing" meant everything.
Kent says he and "Caius" are the same and Lear says "Caius" is a "good fellow" he thinks is dead. Kent insists he is "Caius" and says he has been loyal to him this entire time. Albany still thinks Lear insane, as does Edgar, but they resign their power back to Lear anyway. An Officer says that Edmund is dead. Lear cries:
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!
Lear asks someone to undo the button at his neck, then thinks he sees Cordelia's spirit:
Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,
Look there, look there!
[Dies]
Lear is out of time just as he is out of life. Back in Act IV, Sc. VII, he already thought her gone: "You are a spirit, I know; when did you die?" He perseverates upon "looking" in a play where so many have been blinded, emotionally, physically, morally. That is his insight, to just look. Looking implies seeing, but not all who look will (or can) see.
Kent's heart breaks, Edgar tries to revive him, and Kent tells him "vex not his ghost" for Lear would fight anyone who would further stretch him on the rack that is life. Albany says Kent should be in charge, but he declines and goes with Lear as he is hauled away. Edgar's parting words are as pithy and heavy as they get:
The weight of this sad time we must obey;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most: we that are young
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.
Whew. I wasn't sure I'd survive that one. King Lear is only bested by Titus Andronicus for body count (14), with Hamlet (9) at a close third. Ten die in all: Cornwall's Servant, Cornwall, Oswald, Regan, Goneril, Gloucester, Edmund, Cordelia, Cordelia's executioner, and Lear himself. Apparently, when Lear says "And my poor fool is hanged" he is referring to Cordelia, as "fool" can be a term of endearment. So we still don't know what happened to the Fool. My theory is, as he proved one of the wisest of the bunch, he retired in France where he could at least get universal healthcare.
This ending was once so heavily criticized by critics that for a while, productions altered the ending so that Cordelia lives because they just couldn't handle the epic tragedy of such an undeserved demise. Can you imagine having the GALL to alter Shakespeare's most famously horrific ending like that, but not have the constitution to witness a fictional story unfold the way it's meant to? Old dead white guys are dumb.
After studying it day by day, I have to say I agree with the critics who say King Lear is better understood upon reading than upon watching, and ironically, it shines more distinctly as a masterpiece on the page than on a stage. It's not that it's a particularly difficult play to understand, it's just so incredibly complex and lends itself better to slower contemplation than simply sitting back and witnessing the action-packed conflict. There is so much room for a reader to insert oneself into the character's minds and really inhabit their thoughts that having actors do it for you feels like a usurpation. I personally felt Cordelia's surprise, Kent's multiply broken heart, poor Gloucester's pains, Edgar's confusion and despair, Lear's resignation, and even the bastard Edmund is so alive and real that you totally understand his every move, right up until his most evil act at the end, which he attempts to take back as his dying wish.
There's probably no perfect (or near-perfect) production of this play out there, but given a limited selection of filmed performances, one could do worse than the ones I watched this week, both of which are directed by Richard Eyre in very different eras.
As an amuse bouche of the week, I watched Eyre's 1998 150-minute TV adaptation starring the great Ian Holm as the titular King. The action takes place entirely in a soundstage of minimalist blank walls of color, plain costumes, and dramatic lighting. Holm is a veritable whirlwind; an angry hobbit made larger than life by his tirades and sheer presence. And I say "hobbit" with massive respect because we love him in everything.
I understand the attempt to narrow the focus on the characters and emphasize the ethereal timelessness of the story by using mostly empty soundstages, but even the outdoors scenes are clearly indoors, forcing the vastness of Nature (which is very much its own character) into a bottle, and I just felt that the claustrophobic confines of the castle scenes would be better contrasted with actual on-location shots of empty heaths. But that's just me. It certainly feels like most of the text was included. It's not a brisk 150 minutes, despite the good acting by all involved, but I hated that the storm scenes overpowered the actors' voices to the point that one couldn't discern some of the most important lines in the whole play. After a while, though, Holm is so compelling that just bask in his awesomeness.
I saw Eyre's updated version as soon as it was released through Amazon Prime in the summer of 2018. My initial reaction was excitement that it was CHOCK-FULL of great Brits: Anthony Hopkins, Emma Thompson, Emily Watson, Jim Broadbent, Andrew Scott, Tobias Menzies, Christopher Eccelston, Jim Carter... it's just everyone in the BBC repertoire you could ever want. This version is set in present-day England, with glorious locations like the Tower of London and some actual ornate palace interiors and the Dover cliffs. It feels timeless nonetheless. Everyone is amazing. It's super. Just super. It's a relatively quick and solid two hours of some of the best performances of Shakespeare I've seen this year. And considering that Lear is usually better on paper than on screen, that's saying something. FIVE STARS.
Alright, I did it. I conquered Lear in one week. I should have taken two but I gotta keep rolling if I'm gonna get the sonnets and shit done this year. I can't help but feel I'm only beginning with this one, but I look forward to revisiting it again one day. Next week, we move on to another fan fav that just happens to be super short and sweet (and bloody as hell). I also have a lot of personal experience with some unique incarnations of it over the years, so I'm excited for the Scottish Play to commence!
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