King Lear

Symbolism/Imagery/ in King Lear * The Storm (Imagery)Pathetic Fallacy: By acting irresponsibility, Lear as a King and then as a father causes a universal upheaval in the order of the universe. This upheaval is reflected and reinforced by the use of imagery (Pathetic Fallacy). The storm is a part of the universal disorder and is presented in a very artistic manner. The storm is significant as it stands for external as well as internal human naturepresents the inner nature of human beings * In Act 3, Lear rushes from a fight with his daughters into a raging thunderstorm.

The combination of thunder and lightning is pretty much what is going on inside Lear’s mind, from his fury at his daughters to his impending madness. At one point, Lear admits there’s a “tempest in [his] mind” that’s not unlike the storm that rages on the heath (3. 4. 4. ). In other words, the literal storm on the heath is a pretty accurate reflection of Lear’s psychological state. * One can argue that the storm parallels Britain’s fall into political chaos. Remember, Lear has divided his kingdom, civil war is brewing, and the King (Lear) is being treated pretty shabbily by his daughters and some of his other subjects.

Alternatively, the powerful storm in which Lear gets caught up is a dramatic demonstration of the fact that all humans, even kings, are completely vulnerable to overpowering forces like nature. * The beasts (Imagery): The bestial images and the images of darkness also convey the impression of disorder in the universe. The bestial/animal imagery is partly designed to show man’s place in the chain of being, and bring out the sub-human nature of evil character. It is also used to show man’s weakness compared with animals’ and partly to compare man’s life to the life of the jungle.

Because of the bad behaviour of Goneril and Regan, Lear hates them and calls them worse than monsters “More hideous when thou show’st theeln a child than sea monster. ” Then turning to Goneril, he calls her “gilded serpent” when he comes to know her reality. She is often called “tiger” and “sharp-toothed” (vulture), while Regan is called “most serpents like”. To reveal the evil nature of both sisters, bestial imagery is employed very often as they are called “adderas” by Edmund. * Moreover in King Lear, the animal imagery is organized around compatible or somewhat foolish i. . deer, cat, dog, rat, cow, serpent, geese, snakes, dragon, foxes, and sparrows. They help to draw the moral drift of the play. They are set up to reinforce or to oppose each other. * Images of darkness and disease: The images of darkness and diseases are used to show chaos and disturbance in nature. In the play, one is conscious all through of the atmosphere of buffeting, strain, and strife, and, at moments, of bodily tension to the point of agony. So naturally does this flow from the circumstances of the drama and the mental suffering of Lear.

This sensation is increased by the generally floating images. To show the human body in torture, the words like “tugged”, wrenched beaten”, “scalded”, “tortured” and “finally broken on the rake”, are used. Lear, in his agonized remorse, pictures himself as a man wrenched and tortured by an “engine”. He realizes his follies and he beats his head that lets his folly in. Goneril has the power to shake him with her tongue, the hot tears break from his heart. Lear cries that his heart “will break into a hundred thousand flaws”.

Albany wonders how far Goneril’s eyes may pierce. Gloucester’s flawed heart is cracked, and finally it “burst smilingly. Kent longs to “tread” Oswald into mortar. Lear cried painfully “It is more than murder”. The Fool declares man torn into pieces by gods. Gloucester also cries, “As flies to wanton boys, are we to gods; they kill us for their sport”. The sense of bodily torture continues to the end. Lear tells Cordelia that he is bound “Upon a wheel of fire that my own tears do scald like molten lead”. The use of verbs and images of bodily torture are almost continuous and they are used to draw the direct picture as in the treatment of Gloucester; who is equally “blind” like Lear when it comes to telling the difference between his “good” son (Edgar) and his bad offspring (Edmund) – Gloucester can’t tell that Edmund has manipulated him into believing Edgar wants him dead. Later, Gloucester doesn’t even recognize his son Edgar, who has disguised himself as “Poor Tom” the beggar.

Eventually, Gloucester’s eyeballs are plucked out, making his literal blindness symbolic of his inability to “see” the truth about his children. Finally, “he is bound to a chair, plucked by the beard, his hair is ravished from his chin, and with his eyes blinded and bleeding, he is thrust out of the gates to smell his way to Dover”. * In King Lear, there’s a whole lot of talk about literal vision and metaphorical blindness, especially when it comes to fathers “seeing” their children for who they really are. When Lear mistakenly believes that Cordelia is disloyal and orders her “out of [his] sight,” his pal, Kent, gives him the following advice: “See better, Lear” (1. 1. 14). In other words, Kent implies that Lear is “blind” to the fact Cordelia is the “good” daughter while Goneril and Regan are a couple of evil spawn. We can take this a step further by saying that the root of all Lear’s problems is his lack of good judgment – he foolishly divides his kingdom, stages a silly love test to determine which daughter cares for him the most, etc. After Lear is booted out by Regan in her palace, he exclaims: “We’ll no more meet, no more see one another: but yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; or rather a disease that’s in my flesh, which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil, a plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle, in my corrupted blood. (2. 4. 29). When Lear goes off on Goneril, he insists she’s more like a “disease that’s in [his] flesh” than a daughter (his “flesh and blood”). Goneril, he says, is “a boil, a plague-sore,” a nasty little “carbuncle” and so on. In other words, Goneril, is kind of like a venereal disease. ) Lear is really good at insults this is a pretty elaborate way for Lear to tell Goneril that she makes him sick. On the one hand, this passage is in keeping with just about everything else Lear says about women (especially Goneril and Regan) – Lear frequently associates women with sexual promiscuity and pretty much blames all the problems in the world on the ladies. * Something similar is at work in King Lear. When Lear imagines that his body is diseased, we can’t help but notice that his kingdom is also not doing so well.

After all, it’s just been hacked up into pieces by Lear and, with Goneril and Regan (and their spouses) now in charge, it’s quickly becoming a corrupt place. What’s more, civil war (not to mention a war with France) is on the horizon. In King Lear’s mind, the corruption of his kingdom is caused by Goneril and Regan so, it’s not so surprising that he refers to Goneril (in the passage above) as a “plague-sore. ” * Nakedness vs. Clothing (Imagery): When Edgar disguises himself as “Poor Tom”, he chooses to disguise himself as a naked beggar.

Then, in the big storm scene, Lear strips off his kingly robes. Lear has seen Poor Tom (naked) and asks, “Is this man no more than this? ” Then, presumably to find out if man is indeed “no more than this”, he strips down to his birthday suit. Shakespeare seems to be implying that all men are vulnerable. In fact, man is nothing more than “a poor bare, forked animal” (3. 4. 10). Donning rich and opulent clothing (like Goneril and Regan do), then, is merely a futile attempt to disguise man’s true, defenceless nature. Nothingness (Symbol): Shakespeare plays on the word “nothing” and the idea of nothingness or emptiness throughout King Lear. Here are a few significant moments from the play: In Act 1, when Lear stages his love test and asks Cordelia “What can you say to draw a third [of the kingdom] more opulent than your sisters? “, Cordelia replies, “Nothing. ” Lear can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Nothing will come of nothing,” he tells her. “Speak again. ” (In other words, you’ll get absolutely nothing from me unless you speak up about how much you love me. By the way, the phrase “Nothing can come of nothing” is a variation on the famous phrase “ex nihilo nihil fit” – that’s Latin for “from nothing, nothing comes,” which is an ancient Greek philosophical and scientific expression. The word “nothing” shows up again in the play when the Fool tells Lear he is nothing without his crown and power: “now thou art an O without a figure. I am better than thou art now; I’m a fool, thou art nothing” (1. 4. 17). According to the Fool, King Lear is a zero and is no better than a “shealed peascod” (an empty peapod).

The Fool also calls the retired king “Lear’s shadow,” which suggests that Lear, without his crown, is merely a shadow of his former self. The idea is that Lear, (whose status has changed since retirement) is nothing without his former power and title. To sum up, imagery plays an important part in King Lear. The play is a complex work and makes use of imagery effectively to convey the themes, and to give poignancy to the action. The disruption caused by Lear’s initial inability and refusal to “see better” is reflected in the images of darkness, animalism, and disease.

In the first act of King Lear Shakespeare turns the order of world of the play upside down. By the end of the first act virtually every character’s station in life has been changed significantly. Lear has given away his power, he has destroyed his family by disowning one daughter and angered another, and he has banished his most trusted advisor.

When the play begins, Lear is King of England. He has long ruled and apparently has done so competently. He holds all power in England. Although Lear has advisers, notably Kent and Gloucester, it is clear that Lear is in charge and he keeps his own counsel and makes his own decisions. The play opens with his two advisers, the Earls of Kent and Gloucester being surprised that Lear no longer appears to prefer Goneril’s husband the Duke of Albany over Regan’s husband Duke of Cornwall. “I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall” (I.i.1-2).

Due to his failure to keep his advisers involved in the decision making process, he at times makes rash decisions such as the disowning of Cordelia (I.i.113-116), the dividing of his kingdom between Goneril and Regan (I.i.127-138), and the banishing of his best and most loyal advisor Kent (I.i.173-178). By the end of Act I Lear seems impotent. He is no longer the powerful King of England. He is no longer recognized as King.

Goneril has instructed her servant Oswald to “[p]ut on what weary negligence you please” (I.iii.12) toward Lear. When the once powerful Lear asks Oswald “Who am I, sir?” (I.iv.78) the servant insolently replies “My lady’s father” (I.iv.79) enraging Lear that a servant should treat him not as king, but as the father of the servant’s lady. His power, status, and social standing have collapsed.

As a father Lear doesn’t fare much better than he did as king. At the play’s beginning he is an all-powerful patriarch and expects everyone to completely agree with and cater to his every whim. In many ways he is like a spoiled child. He seeks and demands constant, undivided attention. Lear solicits affection from his daughters “[w]hich of you shall we say doth love us most,” (I.i.51). When the attention is positive and according to his wishes he exhibits an almost childlike happiness.

Although it is evident Goneril and Regan are engaging in hyperbole, Lear is pleased and rewards his two elder daughters with one third of England each. When he asks his favorite daughter Cordelia how much she loves him he is disappointed with her answer and throws a tantrum, “[h]ere I disclaim all my paternal care” (I.i.113). By the end of the first act Lear’s demands have not changed.

When Goneril argues with him and complains about the behavior of his knights, Lear has another fit of anger and runs away from Goneril to Regan as if he were a schoolboy running away from home. He no longer is the proud father of three daughters, but has banished Cordelia, angered and run away from Goneril, and pins his hopes on his middle daughter Regan.

When Act I ends Lear is no longer the center of social attention. When he first appears on stage the stage directions indicate that a flourish is sounded and Lear enters with his three daughters, his two sons-in-law and an unspecified number of attendants. In the final scene his presence is not announced with a flourish. His daughters and sons-in-law are not present. Lear’s only attendants are the banished Kent (disguised as Caius) and Lear’s jester known only as “Fool.”

Lear is not alone in his foolish behavior toward his children. Gloucester behaves similarly to Lear. He is used to his power and makes rash, unwise decisions. When the play opens Gloucester appears to be somewhat ashamed of his second son, Edmund who is a bastard for he keeps him away from court, “he hath been out nine years, and away he shall again” (I.i.32-33).

Gloucester’s older son Edgar is clearly his favorite. Yet he is quick to believe Edmund when Edmund plots against Gloucester. Edgar clearly mirrors Goneril, as Gloucester is quick to believe the false accusations made by Edmund and force Edgar into hiding. Edgar also mirrors Kent in that he returns in Act II dressed as Poor Tom of Bedlam. As Tom Edgar accompanies his father and helps him just as Kent helps Lear.

Cordelia’s status changes greatly in the first act. Initially she was Lear’s favorite daughter. She went from a highly sought after bride-to-be with a large dowry to a woman with no dowry who is refused by the Duke Burgundy and accepted, without dowry by the King of France. When she refuses to kowtow to Lear with false praise her status is destroyed. Although she clear loves her father she is banished and forced to leave England.

By the end of Act I Lear is no longer the proud, powerful King of England. By his own hand he has destroyed his kingdom and his family. Shakespeare has stripped Lear of his armor and has exposed Lear with all of his vulnerabilities and foibles.

By removing the old order in the first act, Shakespeare provides a vehicle for the readers and members of the audience to explore the real nature of the characters behind the facades each character displays in public life when the play begins. Each of the characters will reveal his or her true nature throughout the remainder of the play. These revelations provide the tension and the interest of King Lear.

Works Cited

The Tragedy of King Lear. The Riverside Shakespeare. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co. 1974. 1255-1295.

Is King Lear nihilistic or hopeful? Satisfying, hopeful, and redemptive: some critics would say that these adjectives belong nowhere near a description of King Lear. One critic, Thomas Roche, even states that the play’s ending is “as bleak and unrewarding as man can reach outside the gates of hell” (164). Certainly, Roche’s pessimistic interpretation has merit; after all, Lear has seen nearly everyone he once cared for die before dying himself. Although this aspect of the play is true, agreeing with this negative view requires a person to believe that Lear learns nothing and that he suffers and dies in vain.

Indeed, this is exactly what Roche believes when he states that at the play’s end, “Lear still cannot tell good from evil . . . or true from false” (164). This nihilistic approach, however, not only disregards many of the play’s moments of philosophical insight, but it also completely misinterprets Shakespeare’s intent. That is not to say that Lear is without fault at the end of the play; as Shakespeare surely understood, Lear is still human, and as such, he is subject to human frailty. What is most important about Lear, however, is not that he dies a flawed man but that he dies an improved man.

Therefore, although King Lear might first appear “bleak,” Shakespeare suggests that Lear’s life, and human life in general, is worth all of its misery because it is often through suffering that people gain knowledge about the true nature of their individual selves and about the nature of all humanity (Roche 164). From the very beginning of the play, Shakespeare suggests that King Lear has much to learn. As Maynard Mack explains in his essay “Action and World in King Lear,” the reader/audience is immediately invited to sense that Lear is “too deeply . . . omfortable and secure in his ‘robes and furr’d gowns’, in his rituals of authority and deference . . . and in his childish charades” (170). In other words, there is an immediate sense that Lear is not truly aware of the harsh realities of human life. For instance, when Lear says that he has divided his kingdom into thirds for each daughter so that he can retire and “Unburthened crawl toward death,” he shows that he is completely lacking in common sense by assuming that his plan will go according to his will and that the transition of power will run smoothly (1. . 43). Almost instantly, Lear is proven foolish when Regan and Goneril “hit together” and agree to “do something, and in the heat” to strip their father of any power that he has remaining (1. 1. 306, 311). Mack calls this rapid string of events that follow Lear’s hasty abdication “the waiting coil of consequences [that] leaps into threatening life,” bringing with it the unmistakable message that Lear was terribly wrong in choosing to reward his false-flattering daughters with the gift of his kingdom (170).

Lear’s gift to Goneril and Regan, whose quick deception shows the falseness of their affections toward their father, proves that Lear is unable to see the love, or lack thereof, that others have for him. Likewise, when he becomes enraged at Cordelia after she refuses to flatter him, Lear reveals that he, like Goneril and Regan, is unable to have altruistic love for another person when he says to Cordelia that it would have been “Better thou/ Hadst not been born than not t’ have pleased me” (1. . 235-236). In essence, his “. . . power [and his love] to flattery bows” and he is only able to love another person when that person appeals to his sense of vanity, so when those who truly do love Lear, namely Cordelia and Kent, refuse to appease his vain nature, Lear banishes them, “Without grace . . . love . . . or benison” (1. 1. 149, 266). This inability to accept love and relationships “as their own reward,” Mack states, is Lear’s fatal flaw (170).

Mack argues that relationships can lead to happiness but that they lead to heartache and despair equally as often; in order to have any good relationships, then, a person must accept others for who they are, which is something that Lear is unable and unwilling to do (Mack 170). Indeed, Lear would have been very happy living his remaining years without any meaningful knowledge about love or relationships, surrounding himself in a “childish charade” of false love and false truth; from this point forward, however, Lear will have to learn the consequences of his blindingly ignorant actions (Mack 170).

The ignorance about life and human nature that Lear demonstrates in the play’s first scene, then, leads to his largest mistake, the mistake that serves as a turning point from which all other actions are the direct consequence. As Mack explains, because Shakespeare put the turning point at the beginning of the play, “The meaning of action [in Lear] lies rather in effects than in antecedents, and particularly in its capacity, as with Lear in the opening scene, to generate energies that will hurl themselves . . . in reverberations of disorder” (170). That is, because Lear’s fatal flaw resents itself early rather than later on in the play—as is customary for Shakespearean tragedy—the meanings and consequences of his actions, as well as Lear’s own thoughts/awareness, have a longer time to evolve. How the early turning point in Lear helps to emphasize Lear’s learning experience is clarified by comparing the play with another Shakespearean tragedy; the , for example, occurs in act 3, scene 3 when the seeds of jealousy that Iago has planted throughout the first three acts finally take root inside of Othello’s mind.

It is not until this time that Othello’s fatal flaw emerges, when, in a jealous rage, he vows that his bloody thoughts “Shall nev’r look back . . . / Till a capable and wide revenge / Swallow them [Desdemona and Cassio] up” (3. 3. 454-457). The play is already half over before Shakespeare reveals Othello’s fatal flaw, and it is not until the final scene that Othello learns how gullible he has been. In essence, Othello learns nothing from his experience; he dies in vain, humiliated and heartbroken.

In Lear, on the other hand, the main action throughout the entire play revolves around Lear’s painful suffering and his purgatorial learning experience, all stemming, of course, from his rash, ignorant behavior in the first act. In order for Lear to learn from his selfish and ignorant ways, he must first realize that he has been blind to the truth. Lear is served a cold dish of reality when Goneril and Regan disrespectfully refuse to allow their father the privilege of his noble knights, which of course, are the last symbol of his past authority and his kingly pride: GONERIL. Hear me, my lord.

What needs you five and twenty? Ten? Or five? To follow in a house where twice so many                Have a command to tend you? REGAN. What need one? (2. 4. 259-263) Not only do these lines represent how Lear’s daughters have contemptuously taken away his remaining power, but they also represent the loss of Lear’s dignity by leaving him a shell of his former self, without a single conciliatory knight left to appease his sense of self-importance. Once this happens, Lear is left enraged and desperate, pridefully stating that even “our basest beggars / Are in the poorest superfluous” and that he needs “. . . ore than nature needs,” else “Man’s life is cheap as beast’s” (2. 4. 263-266). In other words, Lear feels that his daughters are treating him like an animal by depriving him of his royal train. Clearly, Lear still clings to the pompous supposition that his needs are above the needs of the “basest beggar”’ and he still feels like the innocent victim of his daughters’ cruel behavior (2. 4. 263). Even with all of Lear’s continuing faults, however, the seeds of knowledge are beginning to grab hold; it has been painful, but he finally sees that Goneril and Regan’s false tongues had blinded him from their true, unloving natures.

That is, when he calls them “unnatural hags” and    “. . . a disease that’s in my flesh,” he finally sees what love is not (2. 4. 277, 221). In this way, Lear has had his idealized vision of the truth—one where he is flattered, pampered, and adored—painfully stripped away from him; even still, it will take a purgatorial storm and subsequent repentance before Lear learns what the true meaning of love is. Fittingly, as Lear storms out of the castle and into the harsh weather, Regan states that “the injuries” that “willful men” do “themselves procure / Must be their own schoolmasters” (2. . 301-303). What Regan means by this is that the storm will teach Lear that he must swallow his pride, but the statement also foreshadows how Lear will learn something much more important about human nature while he suffers from the elements. In fact, it is in the rage of the storm, interspersed with his own rage, that Lear has his first unselfish thoughts, as is evident when he asks the Fool “How dost my boy? Art cold? ” and he (Lear) says to him “Poor Fool and knave, I have one part in my heart / That’s sorry for you yet” (3. 2. 68, 72-73).

Lear further portrays the empathy that he has for others when he stands alone on the heath and, in a moment of heartfelt lucidness, laments over the houseless masses:        Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,        Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you        From seasons such as these? (3. 4. 28-33) Not only does Lear express sincere concern for others during this soliloquy, but he also expresses regret for the way that he has treated his subjects when he says that “O, I have ta’en / Too little care of this! (3. 4. 33-34). Indeed, this is the first time in the play that Lear admits any kind of wrongdoing, and as such, it is the first time that he looks inside himself at his own soul and sees that it, like his eldest daughters’ souls, is far from spotless. Following Lear’s profound insight on the heath, he moves into the hovel where, after meeting Edgar, who is disguised as the beggar Poor Tom, he begins to question the nature of all humanity.

When Lear sees Edgar’s cold, shivering, and “uncovered body,” he asks the eternal question “Is man no more than this? ” (3. 4. 105). When Lear says that “The unaccomodated man is no more / but such a poor, bare, forked animal,” he is essentially saying that human beings, like their naked bodies, are pitiable creatures (3. 4. 109-110). Likewise, when he proceeds to strip of his garments, he is making the symbolic gesture that he is no better than Poor Tom; that is, he realizes that he, too, is pitiable.

Lear’s recognition that his own body is pathetic, the literary critic Paul Jorgensen argues in his book Lear’s Self-Discovery, is Lear’s first insight. Jorgensen argues, “self-knowledge means understanding the vileness of the flesh”; in order to attain wisdom, he asserts, people must be willing to recognize that they “are born of the seed of Adam” and as such, are “impure . . . and abominable before God” (26). Shakespeare, however, does not suggest that Lear is necessarily doomed because he is the Son of Adam.

Rather, the episode with Poor Tom in the hovel simply suggests that all of humanity, including its royalty, is flawed; using Lear’s insight as an example, Shakespeare suggests that in order for people to be redeemed by God, they must first realize humankind’s shortcomings and learn to pity one and all. Lear’s compassion toward Edgar’s frailty and his insistence that he have the company of the naked, “noble philosopher” proves that he has learned more than just empathy and self-awareness; he has also learned to value his relationships with people despite their flaws, regardless of what he might gain from these relationships (3. . 175). Another example of Lear learning altruistic acceptance comes from his relationship with the Fool, who, as A. C. Bradley explains, makes “incessant and cutting reminders of [Lear’s] folly and wrong”; indeed, Lear gets nothing from the Fool other than insults, such as when the Fool suggests that Lear has “a little tiny wit” (Bradley 24; 3. 2. 74). Yet despite his lack of reward, Bradley argues, “Lear comes in his affliction to think of others first, and to seek, in tender solicitude for his ‘poor boy,’ the shelter he scorns for his own bare head” (24).

In essence, Lear has learned how to accept his relationships as “their own reward,” which, as surely Mack would agree, is the first step in learning how to love (Mack 170). Clearly, the relationship that Lear has with his Fool is unusual; in fact, the Fool’s role in the play is so unusual that one critic, Jan Kott, argues in his essay “King Lear, or Endgame” that the Fool’s character represents the theme of the entire play, namely, “the decay and fall of the world” (152).

In an absurd world where no action has any real meaning, Kott states, the Fool is the only character to realize that “the only true madness is to regard this world as rational” (167). Certainly, what Kott says about the Fool is correct, to a point. The soliloquy he gives while in the hovel in which he prophesizes that “the realm of Albion” will “come to great confusion” certainly proves that the Fool does represent an absurdist viewpoint, but Kott misinterprets Shakespeare’s intent when he states that the play is itself absurd (3. 2. 91-92). One must remember that Shakespeare makes the Fool disappear at the end of act 3 for a reason.

Surely, life is meaningless during the first half of the play when Lear blindly lives his life without truly learning anything about the nature of humanity, but as Lear suffers in the third act, he also learns how to feel for the weak and houseless poor, to “discern the falseness of flattery and the brutality of authority,” and to “pierce through rank and raiment to the common humanity beneath” (Bradley 24). As a result of learning, Shakespeare suggests, the world—and Lear’s part in it—ceases to be absurd; consequently, the Fool, and his philosophy, quietly disappear.

It is by no coincidence that Lear’s suffering and subsequent learning in the third act occur during a miserable storm. In fact, Shakespeare uses the storm as a physical representation of the raging storm of emotions that occurs in Lear’s mind; that is, the “contentious storm” symbolizes and embellishes what Lear himself calls “The tempest in my mind” (3. 4. 6,12). Likewise, it is by no coincidence that Goneril, Regan and Cornwall grow worse from their success; they all remain warm, dry, and comfortable during the storm and they have all gained great power, but not one of them learns anything during the course of the play.

Indeed, as Bradley explains, “The warm castle becomes a room in hell and the storm swept heath a sanctuary” (33). The power of comfort to corrupt is apparent several times during the play, but it is perhaps most shocking when Cornwall gouges out Gloucester’s eyes and proceeds to stomp on them, telling the old man that “Upon these eyes of thine I’ll set my foot” (3. 7. 69). It is in these lines that the reader/audience sees how powerful, and indeed untouchable, people feel when they have all of the comforts of the world to support them (3. . 69). Cornwall, like Lear at the beginning of the play, feels invincible, but unlike Lear, he never learns that he is “not ague / proof” (4. 6. 105-106). Therefore, by contrasting Cornwall, and the other “bad” characters, to Lear, Shakespeare not only reinforces the idea that knowledge and redemption come to those who suffer through physical and emotional storms, but he also suggests that people who have power and comfort often feel that they are superhuman and have nothing left to learn (Bradley 33).

Of course, the eventual demise of all of the wickedly comfortable proves otherwise. In addition to the evil characters acting as foils to Lear, Gloucester’s symbolic blindness and subsequent literal blindness also help to emphasize how Lear gains knowledge through suffering. Indeed, Gloucester acts as a foil to Lear throughout the play: both are initially blind to the actions of their wicked children, both disown their loyal children, and, in turn, both learn the truth in very painful ways.

Until his blinding, Gloucester believes that Edgar is a “strange and fastened villain” who has betrayed him and that Edmund is a “loyal . . . boy,” but the quickness with which Gloucester realizes Edmund’s true intent after Cornwall has blinded him, screaming “O my follies! Then Edgar was abused” strongly implies that, like Lear, Gloucester had to suffer in order to see the light (2. 1. 79-86; 3. 7. 92-93). In this way, Shakespeare uses irony to reinforce the idea that those who have eyes are often blind to the truth and those who suffer often see more truth than their bodies and minds can handle.

Yet another person one might compare Lear to is his loving and loyal daughter, Cordelia, who is so angelic that her tears are like “holy water” that from “heavenly eyes” flow (4. 3. 31). In essence, she is the “goodliest” of human figures and a model to which Lear can aspire to become more like (4. 3. 17). Indeed, Lear shows that he has become more like his blessed daughter after he reconciles with her and tells her that “When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down / And ask of thee forgiveness . . .” (5. 3. 10-11).

This humble, indeed shameful statement seems not to have come from the same selfish, egotistical king who banishes his daughter for not proving her love to him, and in fact, it does not. Lear is a changed man. What his purgatory has prepared him for, his reunion with Cordelia, the play’s Christ-figure, has set in stone. Lear has finally and completely learned how to love, and for that, he is forgiven and completely redeemed. There are some critics, of course, who believe that Lear does not learn how to love, or learn anything else for that matter.

In his essay “‘Nothing Almost Sees Miracles’: Tragic Knowledge in King Lear,” Roche even argues that Shakespeare intended Lear to be a “total failure, in fact and in vision” (168). Roche continues by stating that at the end of the play, Lear “sees nothing” because “every gesture of his love is countered by an equal and opposite gesture of hatred” (164). Indeed, Roche is correct when he states that Lear is still flawed at the end of the play.

After all, he still feels like a victim to Goneril and Regan’s cruel behavior and he is still vengeful, as is evident when he proudly states to Cordelia’s corpse that “I killed the slave that was a-hanging thee” (5. 3. 276). Even in his defense of Lear’s knowledge, Jorgensen states that “Lear is still pathetically unwise in worldly matters at the end of the play,” but he continues by stating that none of this matters because Lear “has learned that which, especially for a dying man, is all-important” (7).

That is, Lear has learned about the meaning of love, the pitiable frailty of the human form, and the miseries of the unfortunate. In essence, he has learned what it means to be a human instead of a king. Therefore, it does not matter that Lear still has faults because his suffering has taught him eternal truths—truths that are worthy of his redemption. In the end, King Lear almost ceases to be tragic (Bradley 32). Certainly, Lear’s suffering is severe, but Shakespeare shows that it is Lear’s suffering that leads to his learning and his subsequent redemption.

Prior to Lear’s painful banishment, he is a pampered, flattered king living a false life, full of false love. It is excruciating for Lear to face that his life has been 80 years of lies, but in order to learn the truth, he must first suffer through the pain, and as Shakespeare clearly shows, it is better to learn through suffering than to remain comfortable and ignorant. Therefore, Lear’s life is worth all of the agonies it incurs; after all, it is only after Lear begins to suffer that he truly begins to live.

Shakespeare’s King Lear examines the politics of betrayal and the awful costs paid by its victims.  Nowhere in the play are these costs more apparent than in those scenes in which Lear and his exiled companions find themselves caught in the midst of a thunderstorm unsheltered.  As King, Lear embodied the basic assumptions of monarchy, one being that the universe is ordered according to a divine logic.  Within this ideological construct, natural phenomena works as the hand of God.

Therefore, thunderstorms, earthquakes, and floods are all extensions of God’s judgment- Biblical examples include the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the Great Flood, the Parting of the Red Sea, etc., etc.  Though King Lear is set in pre-Christian Britain, the dynamic enshrined in these examples operates here as well- the wicked shall be punished and the righteous shall be rewarded.  This order of due punishment and reward is shocked when Lear is betrayed by his ungrateful daughters, Regan and Goneril.  The ensuing storm is a manifestation of this order overthrown, and is as notable for its symbolic function as it is for its direct effect on King Lear.

Just as a storm will cover the sun’s rays, many of the characters left in the storm have been forced to cover or mask their true, righteous natures.  Kent and Edgar both don the apparel and manners of unlearned beggars in order to help those they serve in a time of crisis.  Lear similarly adopts the apparel of madness, though unlike the previously mentioned characters, he does so by compulsion rather than artifice.  For Kent and Edgar, these transformations aren’t permanent, as the indignity symbolized by the storm does not conquer them.  But for Lear, the storm is the last stand for his sanity.  He’s simply unable to think of his daughters’ betrayal, for “that way Madness lies” (Act III, scene 4, line 21).

Another interesting parallel between the nature of the storm and that of Lear’s madness can be drawn here.  A storm is by definition the release of pent-up energies, energies that either implode or explode but will not dissipate.  As the horrible knowledge of his misjudgments dawns on Lear, this knowledge takes the form of psychosomatic energies which must either implode as madness or explode as acts of revenge.

Perhaps if Lear were a younger man, he might have tried at revenge, but madness is the seemingly inevitable result of such extreme misfortune at such advanced age.  Just as the storm explodes with its torrential rains and its deafening thunder, Lear begins his implosion in counterpoint, descending into madness.  As he cannot match the explosive rage of the storm with an act of revenge, he must mount an equally powerful attack on his own psyche.

His pain runs so deep by this point that the literal gales cannot compare to “the Tempest in [his] Mind” (III, 4, 12).  Pragmatically, implosion serves not only the purpose of dispersing irrepressible psychosomatic energies, but also sets up a bulwark through which further pains cannot penetrate.  Thus, the aforementioned “Tempest in [Lear’s] Mind / Doth from [his] Sense take all Feeling else / Save what beats there, Filial Ingratitude” (III, 4, 12-14).

Viewed from a different perspective, the storm can be seen as a challenge to Lear- can he show the strength and resolve that’s necessary to right the wrongs that have been done to him?  His answer to that challenge is a resounding no.  Though at some points he seems resolute, as when he calls out to the storm to “Pour on, I will endure,” his ensuing madness betrays such exclamations (III, 4, 16).

Lear does endure, but only behind the aforementioned shield of implosion, a purgatorial state in which neither engagement with reality nor death is possible.  It’s only a little later that he effectively renounces what was left of his regal spirit, crying, “…-Take Physic, Pomp:/ Expose thy self to feel what Wretches feel,/ That thou mayst shake the Superflux to them/ And shew the Heavens more Just” (Lear, III, 4, 33-36).  Though this statement could be interpreted as a positive call for royal humility in another context, here it is nothing more than a slightly veiled admission of surrender.  In lowering himself to the level of a common “Wretch,” he does not take dignity with him, but leaves it a memory of his once-glorious past.

When considering the effects of the storm on Lear, one must consider not only the storm in itself, but the circumstances in which he experiences it.  If he had experienced such a storm in even a poor peasant’s cottage, the deposed king might have been able to clutch onto a final shred of royal composure and dignity.  But lost in the wilderness, Lear realizes that he has truly lost control of a land he once ruled, and of himself as well for that matter.  To build a shelter for oneself from cold and wind and rain is at bottom an attempt to control the elements, to moderate their rule over one’s life.

Lear has, by this point, fallen so far from his earlier height that he no longer has this basic semblance of control to shield him from the whims of nature.  The former king has effectively fallen from the highest station one could possess to the very lowest.  This extreme transformation finds its expression in the extreme nature of the storm.  It is not a polite storm but one in which “Sheets of Fire,…Bursts of horrid Thunder,…[and] Groans of roaring Wind and Rain” paint a picture of hell on Earth (Kent, III, 2, 46-47).

With these symbolic cues, one is meant to understand that Lear has fallen from the paradise of his court to the hell of a stormy wilderness.  His fall bears some resemblance to the Biblical story of Adam and Eve who were tempted by the flattery and promises of Satan into actions forbidden by God and thus were expelled from paradise.  Accordingly, the idea of devils, or “Fiends,” permeates the speech of Edgar in his guise as Old Tom, the beggar, and though it’s never explicitly stated, these “Fiends” are likely the betrayers Edmund, Goneril, Regan and Cornwall.  The flattery of these betrayers preys on the good-natured faith of their victims, just as the snake preyed on that of Adam and Eve.

But whereas Adam and Eve understood the consequences of their actions, Lear does not, and therefore his actions cannot be considered “sinful,” only misguided.  So fittingly, it is not through the will of God but by the machinations of his betrayers, that Lear is sentenced to a wilderness, the character of which would usually be reserved for criminals and evil-doers.  It is a realm in which, according to Edmund, “…revenging Gods/ ‘Gainst Parricides did all the Thunder Bend” (II, 1, 46-47).  Thus, Lear is unjustly submitted to the thunderbolts that should be reserved for his betrayers.  So it is that the storm appears at this critical time in the play as a manifestation of a judgmental wrath that has been rendered impotent.

This is perhaps the nadir in the fortunes of the righteous, when all are gathered a collective of exiles, and the plans of the wicked have yet to begin their slow unraveling.  The spaces normally reserved for the righteous (the royal courts) are occupied by the wicked, and those normally reserved for the wicked (the stormy wilderness) are occupied by the righteous.  The hand of judgment seems to have been momentarily confused.  At the conclusion of the play, Albany attempts to set things back in their rightful order, despite great losses already suffered, stating “All Friends shall taste/ The Wages of their Virtue, and all Foes/ The Cup of their Deservings…” (V, 3, 295-301).

Exposed to the ravages of storm, such a sense of justice seems unattainable to Lear, an ideal lost in an age of treachery.  The storm serves as his personal point of no return, after such a fall from grace it seems impossible that he could rise again.  And he cannot- the storm is Lear’s crucifixion, though he still lived after its passing, something in him recognizes that as he inadvertently birthed the chaos that engulfs him, he must die for it to pass.

In what ways does Shakespeare draw parallel situations between King Lear and Earl of Gloucester, and how are the characters similar in the play (specifically Act 1)?

While examining Lear and Gloucester, there are obvious similarities, such as that they are both of an older generation with evident power and authority. Both have children wishing to overthrow them through mendacity and false assurance. These two characters relate in a much more symbolic way that reveals insight into their foolishness and naive sense of entitlement. Lear and Gloucester are symbolically blind to the fact that their children wish to acquire their power for selfish purposes.

Edmund, Gloucester’s son without a mother, falsifies his commitment to his half-brother, Edward, when he says “I hope for my brother’s justification, he wrote this but as an essay of my taste of my virtue,” (Act 1 Scene 2) and Goneril, Lear’s daughter, has him believe she genuinely loves him when she says “Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter,” (Act 1 Scene 1). These instances lead to Lear and Gloucester’s imprudent decisions to act on matters that deserve more substantial evidence. “Gloucester reacts exactly like Lear, displacing his favor onto an unworthy recipient” (Storozynsky).

Neither can see their children for who they truly are, which make it seems as if they the necessities to make rational decisions, hence being “blind”. When considering the underlying characteristics of Lear and Gloucester, the audience can see two men, who are delusional with power, insecure and illogical. Their uncertainties stem from their children, who they love, but are quick to turn against. Lear turns against Cordelia because she refuses to discuss her love for him and Gloucester, for potentially having a preexisting fear that his children wanted him gone so they could have his power, believes that Edward wants him dead.

“The old men inhabit worlds created by the mind and emotions, but which share some of the features of their actual surroundings: , heights and depths, enclosures and open, empty places,” (Storozynsky). This author compares them to empty places and isolation, which is symbolic of their personality. Neither seems to be relatable to the audience, due to them not having any admirable traits. Both seem to be shallow characters that lack the confidence that a man of power should carry with him.

Lear and Gloucester both use the word “nothing” frequently in the play and this has a symbolic attachment to it. We see Lear use the phrase “nothing will come of nothing” (Act 1 Scene 1) while addressing his dissatisfaction with Cordelia. This provides insight into his shallowness because the audience is able to see that Lear expects to be verbally showered with praise. The irony is that Goneril and Regan’s flattering’s lack authenticity and are the true statements that mean “nothing”. Gloucester’s use of the word comes during his conversation with Edmund.

He notices Edmund hiding a letter and says, “The quality of nothing hath not need to hide itself. ” (Act 1 scene 2) Gloucester, like Lear, finds himself gullible to false pretenses. This nothingness they speak of is something that they are displacing onto other people, when in fact, they should be self-assessing themselves for. Their ignorance and assumptive attitudes reflects the reason as to why their personalities are hollow and self-fulfilling. Through Act 1, the audience gets insight into the dramatic irony that is evident in both parallel situations.

However, there are four more Acts to King Lear. The newer generations of greedy rulers (Goneril, Regan and Edmund) are expecting to cast out the older generation Lear and Gloucester. Lear, while talking to the fool, realizes that he may have made a mistake by handing down his power to his daughters. He is worried about his mental health when he says, “O, let me not be mad, not mad sweet heaven! ” This is a foreshadowing of events to come in the book. Due to the parallel situations that Gloucester and Lear are in, both will continue to spiral down a path of chaos and ignorance.