Power and authority are themes at the center of Macbeth. It is a political play that raises questions about rights and responsibilities, the need for order and the circumstances under which disorder and rebellion are acceptable, if ever. It also, in a particularly interesting way, questions the nature of kingship and power.

Shakespeare explores the conflict of power when Macbeth, apparently loyal to his king, is told that he will become king himself. Macbeth’s reaction to this news, and his wife’s reaction, perhaps to an even greater extent, emphasize the extent to which power can entice people to act selfishly, cruelly, and deceitfully.

When Macbeth murders Duncan, inspired to do so by his wife, he commits one of the most grievous acts of betrayal according to the philosophies of Shakespeare’s day. He not only murders his king, but he murders a man who is both his friend and his kinsman (Macbeth is related to Duncan). The Porter’s quip about the coldness of hell is no mistake; the ninth circle of hell, which was believed to be cold (not your usual fire and brimstone) was reserved for those who betrayed family members.

In many respects, Macbeth is timeless. It stands as a succinct and poignant declaration that the seizure and abuse of power are against  God’s law and man’s; that legitimacy is generally determined by a combination of qualities and cannot simply be established on the basis of one element, such as descent. There should also be some consideration as to the character and qualifications of the individual.

As a political play, however, Macbeth also maintains a particular focus on 16th century problems. James I of England (James VI of Scotland) no doubt appreciated this particular drama because (1) it is set in and about Scotland, (2) it emphasizes the evils of regicide , (3) it features witchcraft (an interest of James’), and (4) it shows in a positive light the relatively peaceful transfer of the English throne from Elizabeth I to James.

I don’t know whether I believe in the apocalypse, but there are a number of old texts that mention the degeneration of the world. In the Hindu Tradition, there’s the idea of the Kali Yuga, the fourth age of Mankind, which delivers a pretty similar account of the end of the world as believed by the People of the Book. In Buddhism, there’s the coming of the Buddha Maitreya, and of course, in the spirit of the 2012 talks happening tomorrow, there are all those theories of the apocalypse based on the Mayan calendar, occult teaching, science, etc etc etc etc etc.

One striking similarity that all these texts share is that Mankind will degenerate in the period leading to the era of the apocalypse. Usually, this degeneration is marked by chaos, both within the individual, and in the world. Supposedly, a lack of adherence to previous codes of conduct will occur, as well as emotional, mental and spiritual upheaval in various forms. Of course, some philosophers and theologians argue that Mankind has always been this way, and this era is really not that different from the past.

But I digress; I meant to write about Shakespeare, because I find that his plays are often startlingly prophetic and share the same spirit as these ancient texts. I remember one particular passage I’d read years ago, which somehow sprang into my mind during a discussion I had a few days ago. It’s The Fool’s prophecy in King Lear, Act 3 Scene II:

This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.
I’ll speak a prophecy ere I go:
When priests are more in word than matter;
When brewers mar their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors’ tutors;
No heretics burn’d, but wenches’ suitors;
When every case in law is right;
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i’ the field;
And bawds and whores do churches build;
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion:
Then comes the time, who lives to see’t,
That going shall be used with feet.
This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time.

LEAR: O you, sir, you, come hither sir, who am I, sir?
OSWALD: My lady’s father.
LEAR: My lady’s father? My lord’s knave, you whoreson dog, you slave, you cur!
OSWALD: I am none of these, my lord, I beseech your pardon.
LEAR: Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? [LEAR strikes him]
OSWALD: I’ll not be strucken, my lord.
KENT: [tripping him] Nor tripped neither, you base football player.
– King Lear, Act I, Scene iv, William Shakespeare.

…Either I am a huge geek or that passage is universally hysterically funny.
I think the former applies most. I laughed unnaturally hard whilst reading it. Carry on with your lives!
*merrily vacates the room*

Call us old-fashioned, but at Chapter Two we have a fondness for the printed word. And when a book excites us, we tell people about it. In coming blogs look for our book recommendations on a wide range of subjects: aging, marketing, neuroscience, branding, behavioral economics, and more. We hope you’ll share your comments and pass along recommendations of your own. Read and enjoy.

“The Mature Mind,” by Gene D. Cohen (2005)
This book reverses, and sets right, the notion that old age equals cognitive degeneration. The most remarkable nugget is that older people’s brains create new neurons every time they form a new neural network. In this small treasure, Cohen easily refutes several thousand years of thinking.

“The View From 80,” by Malcolm Cowley (1976)
This short book started as a Life magazine article and is one of the first to describe what it means to be in “the country of age.” “Nobody,” Cowley correctly states, “knows the country until he has lived in it.”

“The Ageless Spirit,” edited by Connie Goldman (1992)
This book is a series of interviews with some well-spoken elders (from Steve Allen to Stanley Kunitz), who do a very good job of explaining the transcendent feelings of old age. Connie Goldman, longtime NPR commentator and a keen listener, does the interviews.

“How We Die,” by Sherwin B. Nuland (1993)
This is a beautiful book about perspective, what your perspective is based on, and how it is changed by life and experience. In this case, a dying brother.

“When I Am An Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple,” by Jenny Joseph (1997)
What was once a shout of defiance, this short poem (voted England’s favorite poem) has become a statement of how life should be lived when you’re older. This poem gave life to that wonderful group of older women known as “The Red Hat Ladies.”

“Tuesdays With Morrie,” by Mitch Albom (2002)
An aging teacher and a young sportswriter get together every Tuesday to create a thoroughly ageless conversation. Their differences disappear quickly, and their common values become a bridge between two generations.

“King Lear,” by William Shakespeare
A brilliantly understated contrast between young, (“who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out”) and old (taking upon “the mastery of things”). We’ve all been Cordelia and some day, hopefully, we all will be Lear.

“Old Age,” by Helen M. Luke (1987)
Some people grow into old age and some people just fall into it. This elegant little book is for people who like to give the subject a lot of thought (from Shakespeare to Jung).

“The Spectator Bird,” by Wallace Stegner (1976)
What does it mean to be in your sixties? What does it mean to be the outsider? To feel your self-esteem diminishing? To know that society has the “drilling capacity” to look straight at you and never see you? Meet Joe Allston, a retired literary agent who is dragged from his perch as a spectator bird and tries to create a sense of belonging for himself.

“How Starbucks Saved My Life,” by Michael Gates Gill (2007)
A Madison Avenue executive gets booted off the avenue just as he is entering the second half of life. His life changes, his work changes, his values change — and he grows into the kind of man that gives old age a good name. Lovely book.

For the last several months, Antaeus Shakespeare Thursdays have been focused on KING LEAR. While not officially billed as preparation for our Summer 2010 production of KING LEAR, having the chance to delve deeply into the text will only enrich our work when it comes time to mount the play.

Ensemble company member Gregory Itzin initiated the LEAR sessions, which began with a full down & dirty reading of the play. After that, we spent each LEAR night combing through the text, inch by inch, exploring, debating, laughing and – often – surprising ourselves with where the discussions led. Now that the process is coming to a close tonight with our last LEAR session, I asked Greg to lay down some candid thoughts about the journey…which in turn yield some interesting insights into the Antaean process.

~Tamara

At the beginning of the process of working on Lear I felt that I/we could be on a bit of a mission. This is, after all, a classical company, and as I said in an opening email salvo in a looonnnnng missive about “mission statement” and objectives (not always realized but I have always enjoyed where it has gone week by week), a Classical Company SHOULD be working on arguably THE master theatrical work in the English language. I wanted to dig deep, as deep as time and inclination and focus and ability would allow, and I figured the Antaeus crowd was just the group to tackle it.

The first hurdle, and perhaps the toughest one to clear, was casting the first, cold, reading. The personnel shifted right up to the evening of the event, and, as I recall, some people were pressed into service with little or no prep. But the first night’s reading went swimmingly, perhaps as well or better than could have been hoped for, and everyone seemed energized by the outing.

Since then, in a way, it has been harder to muster the kind of, oh, let us say drive and ego excitement that a “performance” has built-in, because everyone likes to do their work for an audience. “Just” coming and doing text work, with no immediate production in mind, made it a bit more difficult to excite people into showing up and participating.

Also, I think people thought that they could come and would come later, or somewhere along the way, and many did make it a sporadic habit. But after you miss X amount of the event, I think it gets harder to make yourself come. “They’ll be so far ahead of me.” “I don’t want to feel I am coming late to the party.” This and time and schedules that are all over the map: it is a company of, hopefully, working actors after all.

BUT every week yielded some tremendously valuable or at least scintillating information, many things were learned, and, fortunately, the presence of always a core contingency kept the momentum going forward. Also, the fact that Dakin [Matthews] came in with his wealth of knowledge and his experience with the play itself was a joyous addition to the goings on. Armin [Shimerman] and Peter Van Norden’s presences in the early goings were a steadying, insightful help, as they have invaluable experience with the piece and definite opinions about how to skin the cat. Everybody’s input and curiousity and enthusiasm and talent and expertise as Shakespearean actors and just plain actors was a joy to behold. This is quite a bunch.

SO we learned a lot, or talked a lot, uncovered many approaches to many characters. How much of this will stay in the brain pan remains to be seen, but a worthier undertaking I cannot quite imagine. It was always a place to go to do something different than anything else I was/am doing with my life. AND working on something I love in a way I love is pretty damn special.

So I thank one and all for being excited by the project and for the approbation I received, since I am writing this, after all. I hope, and I sense it was, a worthwhile use of your talent and time.

Sincerely, and with love and respect,
Gregory Itzin

Just learned about this cool Web site. I put in the full text of a final paper I wrote in a class I took on Shakespeare during undergrad. The paper focused on the villains Iago and Edmund in the plays Othello and King Lear, respectively. Cool Stuff.

CENTRAL MOTIFS AND ISSUES IN KING LEAR.

1. The Wheel of Fortune

One of the many, many, many renaissance images of the Wheel of Fortune. If you would like to see many of the pictorial representations of the Wheel of Fortune, plug into Google Images, "Wheel of Fortune" followed by either "medieval" or "renaissance."

A medieval concept derived from Ancient Greek notions of fate. Several characters in the play–Kent, Gloucester, Edmund (at the end of his life)–refer to the Wheel of Fortune. Generally it is a pictorial concept that attempts to explain / justify why bad things happen to either good or powerful people. One may be at the top of the wheel, but chance and circumstance can turn the wheel suddenly–as if by a sudden wind or the thrusting of a divine force–and the individual can find himself at the bottom. At the same time, those at the bottom of the wheel, because it has spun, find themselves at the top.

For example, in King Lear, Edgar occupies the top of the wheel at the beginning of the play, whereas Edmund imagines himself, as the illegitimate, at the bottom. But circumstance turns the wheel suddenly and violently, and within an instant, Edgar finds himself at the bottom of the wheel whereas Edmund now occupies the top. At the very end of the play, however, circumstance once again spins the wheel, and Edgar regains the top and Edmund, literally fallen to the ground beneath Edgar from a mortal wound, finds himself at the bottom.

It is important to point out, however, that Edmund continually indicates the empty and superstitious nature of such notions of “fate.” He points out, as you recall, the error of his father’s belief that cosmic circumstance is the cause of the rupture in the kingdom by pointing out to us, “I have caused these things to happen, not astrology.”

2. The Great Chain of Being

Medieval depiction of the Great Chain of Being

In Shakespeare’s day–and persisting up until the mid eighteenth century–the philosophical world-view of cosmology was that existence was constituted by a hierarchical chain that linked God, angels, man, beasts, and the earth itself.

In the chain, God occupies the supreme top position. Beneath God exist Angels, non-corporeal beings constituted of pure intellect / thought. Beneath the angels exists the Human, beings constituted by BOTH intellect and body. Beneath the human exists the Beasts, purely corporeal beings. And beneath Beasts exists the Earth, or inanimate objects that lack either thought or body.

In this paradigm, humans occupy a both a wonderful and precarious position in the cosmos. We are endowed with both the angelic capability of thought, and the beastly existence of corporeality. At the same time that we are capable of intellect and thought, we have bodies that have desires, and which are vulnerable and transitory–because we have bodies, we are mortal. Shakespeare continually portrays characters who struggle to find and maintain a balance between Mind and Body, a dichotomy that can be translated into many others: Thought and Action; Reason and Passion; Eternal and Finite; Immortal and Mortal.

3. The Mind / Body struggle is one of the most predominant themes in all of literature. In Shakespeare, when a character becomes too consumed by the Mind (the angelic, thought, intellect), he loses the inability to act, or suffers from melancholy, or becomes a victim of mental aberration. When a character becomes too consumed by the Body (carnality, desire, passion, action), he loses the ability to think, and therefore acts impulsively, becomes a victim of his carnal passions, and can be reduced to the level of the beast. For instance, murder, in Shakespeare’s plays, is always an impulsive action that derives from the beastly or carnal nature of man. When Regan and Cornwall gouge out Gloucester’s eyes in Act 3, Shakespeare depicts the depth of beastly human behavior. When Lear banishes Kent and Cordelia in Act 1, he behaves impulsively, without necessary Thought.

A philosophical version of the Great Chain of Being. Metaphysically, the movement from plant and animal to human constitutes change, mutability, referred to as a state of "becoming." The higher process of thought, the angelic, and the divine is a permainent, immutable state, referred to as Being.

4. The Two Bodies of the King

Derived from the dichotomy of Mind / Body in the Great Chain of Being, the British held a metaphysical notion of the King’s Two Bodies. What this means is that a king, since he is divinely appointed, occupies a supernatural, immortal position in the world, akin almost to a Greek notion of a god. Yet, a king is at the same time a human being–he has a physical body that is as vulnerable to mortality as anyone’s, and capable of making a king behave in un-divine manner.

King Lear, in many ways, cannot distinguish between his Two Bodies. The first 3 acts of the play explore how Lear has denied / neglected his human presence, and believes he only occupies the divine body, the king as a god. By the end of the play, his divine body has been emptied out (kenosis is the Greek term for emptying out, which St. Paul claimed was the process by which Christ relinquished his divinity in order to become man) and Lear discovers only his human body, realizing that, like any man, he is elementally a “bare forked animal.”

5. Blindness

The metaphor and image of “blindness” predominates in King Lear. Notice how Kent warns Lear of his moral blindness at the beginning of the play, which results in his banishment (a blind act of Lear’s, by the way, enhancing the irony). The Fool continually taunts Lear for his blindness. The pride of both Lear and Gloucester lead them to make “blind” decisions, banishing their good children without seeing clearly.

Our own flaws–our own selfish way in which we see and understand the world–the play suggests, results in our making decisions and committing actions that can have serious consequences. Lear’s own sense of inflated god-hood / divinity leads to his inhumane acts toward his family at the opening of the play. The play treks the progress of Lear’s increasing vision, his ability to see himself and others as human beings, not himself as a god and the people around him as mortal subjects.

Of course, Gloucester becomes literally blind by Act 3, making the metaphor of blindness stark and real. He wanders the world until the end of the play blindly as if in punishment for his blind act of banishing Edgar and allowing Edmund to take control of his dukedom, a punishment that Edgar certainly is aware of, since he makes the most out of it that he can. Gloucester himself, though, realizes that when he had eyes, he could not see. Now that he his blind, ironically, he can see clearly.

Derived from ancient Greek tragedy, particularly Oedipus the King, Shakespeare develops the theme that self-knowledge derives from inner reflection, and that the sensible, physical world is often misleading, covering the truth of spiritual realities.

The blinding of Gloucester is one of the most violent and horrific scenes in ANY piece of literature, or in any movie (including Quentin Terintino, for that matter). How one depicts on stage Regan gouging out Gloucester's eyes has always been a challenge, many performances in the past leaving it as an off-stage event.

6. Ascent / Descent– Heights and Abysses

King Lear is complexly structured around ascents and descents–the movement from heights to abysses, and vice-versa.

First, on the level of tragic convention, characters who occupy a high position come to a great fall: King Lear goes from monarch to homeless person; Edgar goes from legitimate son to a most-wanted figure; Gloucester goes from Duke to blinded person; Kent goes from close friend and trusted adviser to banished and lowly servant; Cordelia goes from most loved daughter to disinherited child, etc etc.

Second, these falls always result in the “ascent” to a new and different height.  Importantly, in their rise to a new height, none of the characters ever come to recuperate the position they lost, but rise to a different, better height that surpasses the previous one. This movement reflects the Christian notion of providence and the “promised end.” In the Christian narrative, Biblical history does not merely return to the original state of Eden; in Revelation, history surpasses Eden for a new, and better Kingdom.

King Lear rises from his depth to discover a new humanity and to occupy a new identity as a human and a loving father; Edgar rises (through a series of disguises and miraculous transformations) from his position as a rather normal and gullible human being to become the future King of England; Kent rises from his position as lowly servant to a divine messenger for his king, and will follow Lear to heaven; Gloucester rises from his suicidal despair to recognize the true worth of his son, Edgar; Cordelia, I argue, rises from her banished state to become a more true and far less prideful human being (I’d be interested in what you think of that); and Edmund, finally–

Edmund, who comes to a great fall from his Machievellian height, rises in the end to a sudden realization that a better course of action in life is to “do some good,” albeit too late in the tragic ending. A matter for discussion will be what height, if any, Edmund occupies in the last moments of his life when he is carried off the stage. Who IS Edmund at the very end of the play?

Third, what makes King Lear most disturbing, however, is how quickly a newly achieved ascent or height by a character can be yanked out from under them.

In Act 5, Lear has seemingly reached his realization of his own and others’ humanity through the most grueling of courses in life. As he is being led off to prison with Cordelia, he speaks the most loving, poetic, and humane lines of the play about his future with his daughter–and Lear is at his happiest. We feel, at this moment, that the tragic-hero has achieved deserved success. Yet, Shakespeare yanks Lear’s ascent from his abyss out from under him, killing Cordelia in the last moment, and sending Lear into a depth of despair deeper than any he had experienced in the course of the play, a despair that kills him.

In Act 4, when Edgar sees his blinded father for the first time, he tells us (in lines I am putting in modern English), “As long as we can say, ‘life cannot get any worse,’ it can.” This is a disturbing notion–anytime we believe that life cannot get any worse, we should not full ourselves, because there is always a deeper abyss that can open beneath us. It would seem that Edgar’s realization comes to fruition at the very end of the play.

The death of Cordelia, for many people one of the most painful experiences in literature.

So the play offers a double-plot twist, disconcerting either way. Edgar, throughout Act 3, believes that when one is reduced (or reduces oneself) to the lowest one can get in life, the only way is upwards, and that upward journey will be full of miracles we would not have experienced without the descent. So much of his euphoria in Act 3 seems to derive from this realization. However, in Act 4, the blinding of his father yanks his own philosophy out from under him when he realizes that, as soon as one thinks one has reached the bottom of the abyss, another bottom opens up out from under us. Too, as soon as Lear believes he has reaches a new and redemptive summit in his life, a new and deeper abyss opens beneath him, and he falls even further.

Fourth, Shakespeare also presents what I would “imaginative” ascents and descents. All of the characters partake in movements of falling and ascending that also derive from their minds. In Act 1, Edmund, as we saw, imagines a new role for himself in his life as the villain, a real “bastard,” and raises himself up to his own new height–”stand up for bastards!” Yet, like the deceptions of the imagination, Edgar strips Edmund of his delusions at the very end when he yanks off his own disguise as the anonymous knight. Edgar is perhaps the figure who imagines personal ascents and descents of his own. He imagines his own role as Tom o’Bedlam and reduces himself to that position. He plays the role extremely well to the point that he not only heals his own psychic trauma, but aids the fallen King Lear in his progress to discover humanity. Then, in his continued progress, he assumes two more roles / disguises in aiding his blinded father. Finally, at the end of the play, he assumes the disguise of the avenging knight in shining armor to successfully destroy Edmund in a duel, at which point he finally reveals himself to the amazement of everyone, including his father who dies of joy. Edgar suggests that the means by which we rise and fall and rise again in life has much more to do with our own imaginative constructions of identity than outer circumstance.

After Gloucester believes he miraculously survived his fall from the cliffs of Dover, he and Edgar encounter the mad King Lear, wreathed in flowers and in the depths of insanity. Edgar rescues Lear and brings him to Cordelia, who is organizing the French troops in Dover in order to regain the kingdom from her sisters.

Example of the Role of the Imagination in Falling, Rising and Redemption.

In a pivotal scene in Act 4, one of the greatest scenes in Shakespeare, Edgar helps his blind father to reunite with Lear and Cordelia’s troops in Dover.

Interestingly, Edgar maintains his disguise as Tom o’Bedlam, even when his father yearns to be in the presence of Edgar once again. Edgar pretends to aid his father in his desire to commit suicide.

Leading him through the woods, Edgar pretends that they have reached the Cliffs of Dover. Describing the scene in detail, Edgar convinces his father that he stands at the precipice, and then shoves him off. After giving his father a moment to imaginatively fall and scream, Edgar takes on a new disguise, pretending that he is a peasant standing at the bottom of the Cliffs of Dover who has just witnessed Gloucester’s fall. He tells Gloucester that his life is a “miracle,” since he survived the fall, trying to cure his father of suicidal despair.

In this marvelous scene we have a paradigm of the motif of ascent and descent, and the psychological and imaginative ramifications of both. Gloucester, at the “height” or top of the imagined cliff, “falls” to the bottom, or the “depth,” where Edgar aids him to recover and “rise” again, helping him to find redemption in his belief that his life is a miracle.

In King Lear, Shakespeare explores a considerable range of issues. He explores many aspects of human nature and asks to what extent identity and fate are governed by nature. He also questions what people owe to each other. For instance, in the first act, when Lear challenges each of his three daughters to demonstrate how much they love him, Shakespeare encourages his audience to think about how much a child owes to their parent. Goneril and Reagan speak of their love for their father, suggesting that their relationship to him and their position as his daughters overrides every other aspect of their lives. In other words, their speeches suggest that no other relationship or role is more important. Of course, their speeches are elaborate and obviously exaggerated. They are obviously not sincere. Cordelia, on the other hand, provides an answer to her father’s challenge that is not only entirely sensible but entirely consistent with 16th century philosophical ideas pertaining to kingship. Aside from challenging his daughter to declare love for her father, Lear is also challenging his child, third in line to the throne, to persuade him to divide his kingdom. In fact, Cordelia should be able to say ‘nothing’ that would convince her father to divide his kingdom because, according to Christian philosophy of the day, it goes against God’s law to divide a kingdom that way; Lear should not, in fact, abdicate the responsibilities of his role as king (that is also against God’s law), and upon his death, he should pass the  throne to his eldest surviving child, without dividing any part of it. Lear’s daughters also, again according to the philosophy of Shakespeare’s day, also owe allegiance to their husbands, which Cordelia, in fact, points out.

It is interesting to consider, also, the behavior of the older characters in the play, specifically Lear and the Earl of Gloucester. Shakespeare develops two plots within the play, one that focuses upon King Lear and his daughters, and the other that focuses upon the Earl of Gloucester and his two sons, his legitimate son, Edgar, and his legitimate son and the instigator of much of the treachery within the play, Gloucester’s illegitimate son, Edmund.

Both Lear and Gloucester treat their children badly. In Lear’s case, there’s suggestion that he was a domineering, even perhaps an abusive parent. Modern audiences might, for instance, sympathize with Goneril and Regan, at least initially, as Lear does, indeed, seem to be rather unreasonable. The banishment of Cordelia, of course, emphasizes how little he knows himself and how rash and ill-tempered he can be.

Lear’s madness, however, can be seen as the result, not so much of his nature, but his defiance of natural order. By trying to impose his will on to others in such a dramatic way, while at the same time, abdicating all responsibility and accountability (by abdicating his throne) he defies the natural order of things and sets himself apart from his own nature.

We can look to Edmund as an interesting parallel to Lear in the sense that he (Edmund) openly embraces what for him is the natural order; as the bastard son, he is considered to be tainted, at least in comparison to Edgar, and even his own father is crude in speaking about the extra-marital relationship that lead to his birth.  Edmund frequently invokes nature and identifies his behavior as ‘natural’ given his bastard status.

To some extent, King Lear seems designed to shock its audience into recognizing the complexity of the human experience and the delicacy of the order we impose upon it. When Lear kneels before his daughters, for instance, the sensibility of Shakespeare’s contemporaries must certainly have been shaken. The same effect is achieved, it seems, when Lear abdicates his crown and divides his kingdom. The drama of the play is enhanced by the repeated challenges to the natural order and the resounding implications this has for a Christian audience.

Some good resources to use when studying King Lear:

William Shakespeare’s King Lear (Literary Criticism) by Harold Bloom

King Lear: A Guide to the Play
by Jay L. Halio

Shakespeare’s Poetics in Relation to King Lear
by Russell A. Fraser

Shakespeare’s Doctrine of Nature: A Study of King Lear
by John F. Danby

KENT

Good king, that must approve the common saw,(165)
Thou out of heaven’s benediction comest
To the warm sun!
Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees miracles(170)
But misery: I know ’tis from Cordelia,
Who hath most fortunately been informed
Of my obscured course; and shall find time
From this enormous state, seeking to give
Losses their remedies. All weary and o’erwatched,(175)
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night: smile once more: turn thy wheel!

1. Above, Kent is speaking just after Regan and Cornwall have put him in the stocks. First of all, since Kent comes to their house as a messenger of the King, he must be treated as if he were the King. To abuse him in this way is a high act of treason, because it is as though they were putting the King himself in the stocks. This is why Lear is so astounded and pained when, in the next scene, he discovers Kent shackled in such a way. Examine what Kent says alone, as he peruses the secret letter from Cordelia. What does he mean by, “Nothing almost sees miracles /But misery”? Notice, too, his reference to the Wheel of Fortune: “Fortune, good night: smile once more: turn thy wheel!” What might he mean? Where does he–who had once been the King’s closest adviser–find himself in this moment?

EDGAR:

I heard myself proclaimed;
And by the happy hollow of a tree
Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place,
That guard, and most unusual vigilance,
Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may ’scape,(5)
I will preserve myself: and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape
That ever penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast: my face I’ll grime with filth;
Blanket my loins: elf all my hair in knots;(10)
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numbed and mortified bare arms(15)
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!(20)

That’s something yet: Edgar I nothing am.

2. In the amazing soliloquy above, Edgar, who has been escaping from his father’s posse out to kill him, emerges from the hiding of a tree. This soliloquy immediately follows Kent’s that I quoted above. It is also given it’s own, separate scene, so Shakespeare evidently wants to highlight it. (In some versions of the play, it is not given a separate scene.) Edgar has decided to disguise himself as the lowest form of human life as possible during the renaissance: Tom o’Bedlam. These figures were homeless madmen, which is probably as low as one can get as a human before one becomes simply a beast. The issue of the tenuous margin between the human and the beast is a huge theme in the play. The great question is, why has Edgar decided to take on this particular disguise? Why has he decided to reduce himself to the lowest form of human life as possible? And he will continue to perform his part in this disguise through the next three acts of the play, and do a very good job at it! This is one of the most bizarre and stunning scenes of the  play. Edgar essentially transforms himself before our eyes, ripping of his clothing, covering himself with mud, filth, twigs and sticks–basically self-flagellating. Keep in mind that he has just discovered that, for reasons he cannot fathom, his father (who had only moments before considered him the good, legitimate son) wants to hunt him down and kill him.

REGAN:

O, sir, you are old.
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be ruled and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,(155)
That to our sister you do make return;
Say you have wronged her, sir.

3. Regan in the above responds to Lear’s complaint when he arrives at her house concerning the way Goneril treated him. How does she claim that he must be treated? How does this subvert the King/Subject — Father / Daughter relationship?

KING LEAR:

Ask her forgiveness?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house:
[Kneeling]

“Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;(160)
Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg
That you’ll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.

4. Lear responds to Regan’s urging that he must be treated as an old man by “kneeling,” by begging for shelter. Many critics claim that at this point, our sympathy shifts to Lear. Why? What makes the scene of King Lear kneeling before his daughter so disturbing and so sympathetic?

KING LEAR:

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,(290)
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!(295)
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,(300)
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:(305)
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!

[Exeunt King Lear, Gloucester, Kent, and Fool]

5. The above quote is one of the most famous in the play. Goneril and Regan have now teamed up together in the scene to reduce King Lear’s power. Lear responds to both of their question, why does he need ANY knights. What do you think Lear is saying about human nature in his response to his daughters asking him why he needs any knights? What does he mean by “reason not the need?” What does he say distinguishes the human from the beast? What does even a beggar (a foreshadowing of Edgar as Tom o’Bedlam) need?  Toward the end of this speech, when he claims his “heart shall break,” the storm suddenly breaks out, and Lear and his Fool flee into the storm and the night. Why do you think the great storm that runs through all of Act 3 breaks out at this point? How is the storm symbolic? How does it represents/parallel King Lear’s “soul” so to speak?

KING LEAR:

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,(5)
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o’ the world!
Crack nature’s moulds, all germains spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!

1. In the famous opening of scene 2 of Act 3, Lear, beginning to slide into insanity, stands outside on the heath in the middle of the raging storm, shaking his fist at the skies. Who / what is he calling to? What does he desire to happen? Who /what does he sound like in a Biblical sense?

KING LEAR:

My wits begin to turn.(70)
Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? art cold?
I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel.
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart(75)
That’s sorry yet for thee.

2. Still standing outside in the storm on the heath, Lear, after raging, turns to his Fool now, and inquires after his well-being. How is this a very dramatic shift in Lear’s character? What aspect of his character–of his humanity–does Lear express in his concern for the Fool? What does it say about Lear as a human being that we have not seen thus far? What might King Lear be learning in his experience?

LEAR

Poor naked wretches, whereso’er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,(35)
Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp,
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,(40)
And show the heavens more just.

3. Kent has found a cave for Lear and his Fool to take shelter. As the Fool enters the cave, Lear remains outdoors for a moment to reflect. Upon what does he reflect? What more is he learning about his king-ship that he begins to learn in the previous quote? What does he realize he had neglected when he was a powerful king? Importantly, Lear tells US, the audience, to “Take physic, pomp,” or to take our medicine, in order to “feel what wretches feel.” What is he exhorting the audience to do in relationship to the impoverished in the world? Why is Lear in a particularly apt position to preach the sufferings of the homeless and the marginalized?

EDGAR:

Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend(55)
hath led through fire and through flame, and through ford
and whirlipool e’er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives
under his pillow, and halters in his pew; set ratsbane
by his porridge; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay
trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course his own(60)
shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom’s a-cold,—O, do
de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting,
and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend
vexes: there could I have him now,—and there,—and there
again, and there.(65)

4. When Lear and the Fool enter the cave, they find Edgar in disguise as Tom o’Bedlam. (His disguise is so good that Lear does not recognize Edgar at all–no one does for the entire play, until the very end.) Above is one of the first long passages Edgar says to them in his disguise. What kind of job is he doing? What kind of skill do you think it takes to maintain such discourse?

KING LEAR:

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(105)
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.(110)

[Tearing off his clothes]

5. After Lear hears Edgar as Tom o’ Bedlam for a while, he is so moved by his madness that he comes to the above revelation, an epiphany about humankind. What does Lear say in the above? What vision of the human being to Lear experience looking at Edgar? This is an astounding moment of revelation for Lear. Finally, Lear rips off his own royal clothing and gives them to Edgar. How is the action symbolic? Why has Lear stripped himself of the final trappings of his royalty. (Note, at this moment, Lear strips himself after he had been stripped by his daughters.)

EDGAR:

When we our betters see bearing our woes,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.(105)
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,(110)
When that which makes me bend makes the king bow,
He childed as I fathered! 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.(115)
What will hap more to-night, safe ’scape the king!
Lurk, lurk.

6. After spending quite awhile in the cave with Lear and his Fool–including partaking in their pretend court-room game–Edgar gives himself a break from his “act,” and delivers this soliloquy. Like Lear, Edgar, too, is learning a great deal about humanity and himself. In this brilliant moment, Edgar reveals the knowledge he is gaining while in his disguise. What does he mean about suffering in the beginning of the soliloquy, and the suffering he undergoes with King Lear? How is the experience making him feel? Compare Edgar’s mood to Lear’s (keeping in mind that Lear is literally sinking into madness whereas Edgar is feigning madness). And, as a challenge, try to ponder what Edgar means by his very cryptic line, “He childed as I fatherd.”

7. Finally, this incredibly intense Act 3 ends with perhaps the most intense scene in the play, the blinding of Gloucester. (Some critics argue that it is the “climax” of the play, and in many ways, it is one of the climactic moments.) It is a gruesome scene, perhaps the most painful and graphic scene in any play. Regan and Cornwall tie up the old and reverend Duke of Gloucester, torture him, followed by Regan gouging-out both of his eyes. Most performances up until the middle of the 20th century would not depict this scene. How one depicts is is a challenge. It is one of the scenes that made Samuel Johnson both frightened and sickened by this play. Many critics have wondered if Shakespeare went too far with this scene. What do you think? Why might the scene be necessary? What might be lost in the play if Shakespeare had left the scene out?

KENT

Good king, that must approve the common saw,(165)
Thou out of heaven’s benediction comest
To the warm sun!
Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees miracles(170)
But misery: I know ’tis from Cordelia,
Who hath most fortunately been informed
Of my obscured course; and shall find time
From this enormous state, seeking to give
Losses their remedies. All weary and o’erwatched,(175)
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night: smile once more: turn thy wheel!

1. Above, Kent is speaking just after Regan and Cornwall have put him in the stocks. First of all, since Kent comes to their house as a messenger of the King, he must be treated as if he were the King. To abuse him in this way is a high act of treason, because it is as though they were putting the King himself in the stocks. This is why Lear is so astounded and pained when, in the next scene, he discovers Kent shackled in such a way. Examine what Kent says alone, as he peruses the secret letter from Cordelia. What does he mean by, “Nothing almost sees miracles /But misery”? Notice, too, his reference to the Wheel of Fortune: “Fortune, good night: smile once more: turn thy wheel!” What might he mean? Where does he–who had once been the King’s closest adviser–find himself in this moment?

EDGAR:

I heard myself proclaimed;
And by the happy hollow of a tree
Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place,
That guard, and most unusual vigilance,
Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may ’scape,(5)
I will preserve myself: and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape
That ever penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast: my face I’ll grime with filth;
Blanket my loins: elf all my hair in knots;(10)
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices,
Strike in their numbed and mortified bare arms(15)
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!(20)

That’s something yet: Edgar I nothing am.

2. In the amazing soliloquy above, Edgar, who has been escaping from his father’s posse out to kill him, emerges from the hiding of a tree. This soliloquy immediately follows Kent’s that I quoted above. It is also given it’s own, separate scene, so Shakespeare evidently wants to highlight it. (In some versions of the play, it is not given a separate scene.) Edgar has decided to disguise himself as the lowest form of human life as possible during the renaissance: Tom o’Bedlam. These figures were homeless madmen, which is probably as low as one can get as a human before one becomes simply a beast. The issue of the tenuous margin between the human and the beast is a huge theme in the play. The great question is, why has Edgar decided to take on this particular disguise? Why has he decided to reduce himself to the lowest form of human life as possible? And he will continue to perform his part in this disguise through the next three acts of the play, and do a very good job at it! This is one of the most bizarre and stunning scenes of the  play. Edgar essentially transforms himself before our eyes, ripping of his clothing, covering himself with mud, filth, twigs and sticks–basically self-flagellating. Keep in mind that he has just discovered that, for reasons he cannot fathom, his father (who had only moments before considered him the good, legitimate son) wants to hunt him down and kill him.

REGAN:

O, sir, you are old.
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be ruled and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,(155)
That to our sister you do make return;
Say you have wronged her, sir.

3. Regan in the above responds to Lear’s complaint when he arrives at her house concerning the way Goneril treated him. How does she claim that he must be treated? How does this subvert the King/Subject — Father / Daughter relationship?

KING LEAR:

Ask her forgiveness?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house:
[Kneeling]

“Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;(160)
Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg
That you’ll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.

4. Lear responds to Regan’s urging that he must be treated as an old man by “kneeling,” by begging for shelter. Many critics claim that at this point, our sympathy shifts to Lear. Why? What makes the scene of King Lear kneeling before his daughter so disturbing and so sympathetic?

KING LEAR:

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,(290)
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!(295)
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,(300)
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:(305)
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!

[Exeunt King Lear, Gloucester, Kent, and Fool]

5. The above quote is one of the most famous in the play. Goneril and Regan have now teamed up together in the scene to reduce King Lear’s power. Lear responds to both of their question, why does he need ANY knights. What do you think Lear is saying about human nature in his response to his daughters asking him why he needs any knights? What does he mean by “reason not the need?” What does he say distinguishes the human from the beast? What does even a beggar (a foreshadowing of Edgar as Tom o’Bedlam) need?  Toward the end of this speech, when he claims his “heart shall break,” the storm suddenly breaks out, and Lear and his Fool flee into the storm and the night. Why do you think the great storm that runs through all of Act 3 breaks out at this point? How is the storm symbolic? How does it represents/parallel King Lear’s “soul” so to speak?