Blinded by Pride

 

The Tragedy of King Lear
William Shakespeare

A Tale of Treachery and Tragedy

The Tragedy of King Lear has been widely regarded as Shakespeare’s greatest play. However, it is certainly not his most popular one, partially because of its profound tragedy and final pessimism. Yet, within its lines, lie the lessons of life of which we all need to be reminded. The dangers of unbridled pride and anger, the costs of unabashed honesty, the ultimate defeat of deceit.

The play begins in the palace of King Lear, who was getting a little long in the tooth as they say. He was aging. But the country was at peace, and he was tiring of the responsibilities of laws held in conflict, the whining nobles and the tapestry of the crown. He decided it was time to retire and enjoy the benefits of his realm and authority. It was time to take it easy and turn over the responsibilities to the next generation, that being his three daughters: the eldest, Goneril, next born Regan, and the youngest, and his favorite, named Cordelia.

King Lear enters the scene, accompanied by his entourage including the Duke of Albany, who is married to Goneril, The Duke of Cornwall, who is married to Regan, and his youngest Cordelia, who is unmarried, but is being courted by both the Duke of Burgundy, and the King of France, all in attendance to witness the intended division of the king’s lands.

Lear spreads out a map with his kingdom already divided into three unassigned territories.
Pausing, he explains an unexpected condition, “But, I haven’t decided which territory to give to which daughter yet.”
And then he asks: “Tell me, my daughters, since now we will divest us both of rule, interest of territory, cares of state, which of you shall we say doth love us most? That we our largest bounty may extend where nature doth with merit challenge.”

First Goneril, then Regan, responds with long and flowery expressions of their great and deepest and complete love for the king. It was all that he had expected and desired.

Finally, King Lear turns to his youngest and favorite daughter, Cordelia, who is courted by both the King of France and the Duke of Burgundy and asks, “Now, our joy, although the last, not least, to whose young love the vines of France and milk of burgundy strive to be interested, what can you say to draw a third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.”

To which Cordelia simply responds, “Nothing, my Lord.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again.” The King replies.
“Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave my heart into my mouth, I love your Majesty according to my bond, no more, no less.”
“How, how, Cordelia! Mend your speech a little, lest it may mar your fortunes,” the King warns.
“Good my lord, you have begot me, bred me, loved me. I return those duties back as our right fit. Obey you, love you, and most honor you.”
Then Cordelia goes on to ask the King, how can my sisters say they love you “all” and still be happy when they’re wed? Is not their love divided?
She then proclaims, “Happy, when I shall wed, that lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry half my love with him, half my care and duty. Sure. I shall never marry like my sisters, to love my father all.”
Feeling disappointed and spurned by the one he favors most, the King responds, “So young and so untender?”
“So young, my Lord and true.”
Lear then responds in anger: “Thy truth then shall be thy dower.”
“Here I disclaim all my paternal care, propinquity, and property of blood, and as a stranger to my heart and me hold thee from this forever.”

The Earl of Kent, a long time and close friend, seeing the King’s sudden anger, tries to calm his outbursts. But the king will have none of it, and in rage proclaims: “Come not between the dragon and his wrath, I loved her most, and thought to set my rest on her kind nursery (care).”
So, the course is set. King Lear divides the third territory between his remaining two daughters and turns over the current reins of his lands to Cornwall/Regan and Albany/Goneril.

The Earl of Kent persists in attempting to lessen the king’s rage.
But Lear exclaims to Kent: “The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.”
Again, The Earl of Kent pleads: “Let it fall rather, though the fork invade the region of my heart. Be Kent unmannerly when Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man? Thinkst thou that duty shall have dread to speak when power to flattery bows? To plainness honor’s bound when majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom, and in thy best consideration check this hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment, thy youngest daughter does not love thee least, nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound reverbs no hollowness.”
“See better Lear, and let me still remain the true blank (focus) of thine eye.”
But King Lear, still in his untampered rage then banishes the Earl of Kent upon threat of death.

Immediately calling the King of France and the Duke of Burgundy forward, he asks, “Do you still want to marry Cordelia with no dowry, or do you want to just forget this whole thing?” He turns to the Duke of Burgundy first.
The Duke of Burgundy comes forth and says, “You know I don’t know what the whole problem is, but if you just give me a portion of the territory you were going to give to Cordelia as dowery, I’ll still marry her.”
To which the King of France quickly interjects, “Love’s not love when it is mingled with regards that stand aloof from the entire point.”
Then Cordelia has her say. “Peace be with Burgundy! Since that prospects of fortune are his love, I shall not be his wife.”
King Lear turns to the King of France who steps forward and promptly claims Cordelia as his wife without any dowry, stating that she herself is desired. “Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor, most choice forsaken, and most loved despised, thee and thy virtues here I seize upon. Be it lawful I take up what’s cast away. Gods, gods! ‘Tis strange that from their coldest neglect my love should kindle to inflamed respect. Thy dowerless daughter, King, thrown to my chance, is Queen of us, of ours, and our fair France. Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy can buy this unpriced precious maid of me. Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind, the losest here, a better where to find.”

The King of France and his future wife, Cordelia, leave for France. And now the two remaining sisters, Goneril and Regan begin to consider their future. “You know, our father always loved Cordelia most,” they complain. “And, when he gets in these anger fits, he shows poor judgment. He is showing his age. He has banished favored Cordelia as well as his close advisor, the Earl of Kent. Who’s to say it won’t be one of us the next time?” Goneril concludes: “Pray you, let’s hit together. If our father carry authority with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.”…We must do something, and in the heat.”
(We must strike while the iron is hot.)

The Earl of Gloucester’s Castle
The plot thickens.
Scene II opens at the Earl of Gloucester’s Castle with Edmund, the bastard son of the Earl, holding a letter and lamenting his role as bastard. He feels deeply wronged by those calling him “illegitimate” despite his soundness of body and mind and considers his underhanded scheme. “Well, my legitimate (Edgar, the legitimate son of the Earl of Gloucester), if this letter speed and my invention thrive, Edmund the base shall top the legitimate (Edgar). I grow, I prosper. Now, gods, stand up for bastards!”

The Earl of Gloucester enters and asks, “What’s the news?” Edmund says, “No news.” But the Earl says, “What’s that you’re holding in your hand? A letter? Let’s see it.”
Edmund’s evil plot begins to unfold. Pretending to hide the forged counterfeit letter he himself has written, he subtly implies to his father that it must have been written by his brother Edgar, because it was found beneath a window in his closet. The Earl just can’t believe his legitimate son Edgar would write such a note. Opening the letter, the Earl discovers that it is critical of him, his age, that sheds a shadow of conspiracy upon Edgar. Incredulous, the Earl of Gloucester sends Edmund to bring Edgar before him in to answer for what was written in the letter. But Edmund has other plans. Instead, Edmund approaches the innocent and unaware Edgar and asks, “What have you done to upset father so? He’s in a rage that he’s so angry with you. You should go to him and straighten things out but, you should be armed; take your sword to protect yourself from his violent rage.”

The Duke of Albany’s Palace (Goneril’s residence)
After turning over the reins of power to his two daughters, Goneril and Regan, King Lear takes up residence, along with his 100 knights, at the palace of the Duke of Albany and his daughter Goneril.

The now banished, but loyal Earl of Kent, faithful friend of King Lear despite all his faults, returns in disguise to Goneril’s palace to surreptitiously serve the king. When asked by the King who he is and what he’s doing, the banished Earl of Kent responds that he is here “to serve him truly that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to converse with him that is wise and says little, to fear judgment, to fight when I cannot lose, and to eat no fish.”

King Lear gradually accepts him as an advisor and asks him, “Where is my fool? He hasn’t been around here lately. I need some cheering up and some distraction.” Finding the fool pining away from the banishment of Cordelia from the court, the Earl of Kent, still disguised as an advisor, brings the fool before King Lear.

Isn’t it interesting, in these scenes, that none of the three characters are what they seem to be. The king no longer has authority over his kingdom, the Earl of Kent is disguised as an advisor, and the fool is the wisest of the three. What delicious imagery and irony!

As the King becomes progressively more unstable, the fool taunts him with rhymes and riddles containing truths not at all comprehended by the king; for he is blind to the truth, seeing “nothing.”

His Kingdom and authority given away.
Love of Cordelia has been cast away
The friendship of Kent has been banished.
Even the fool has been distant and absent.
What is left? Nothing.

Well, the king orders the fool, “Give me a song or a rhyme to cheer me up.” To which the fool responds, “I’ll teach thee a speech, mark it well.” Now pay attention, the fool means, as he recites a series of wise sayings.
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou lowest,
Ride more than thou goest (walk),
Learn more than knowest,
Set less than thou throwest,
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in a door,
And thou shall have more,
Than two tens to a score.”

The Earl of Kent, disguised as Lear’s advisor, responds with the single word, “Nothing.” And King Lear follows by stating emphatically “Why, no, boy, nothing can be made out of nothing.” Ironically, the King completely misses the wisdom contained within the fool’s short rhymes. Only choosing to envision “nothing,”

But the fool doesn’t give up. He tries a less subtle tact by painting an image before King Lear, hoping that he would get the message this time. He offers Lear a riddle to solve, “give me an egg, and I’ll give you two crowns,” offers the fool.
“And what two crowns shall they be?” Lear asks.
The fool says, “I’ll take an egg and break it in two; and you will have two empty shells after the yolk has been lost.” Then he explains its meaning.
“When thou clovest thy crown in the middle and gave away both parts,…thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown when thou gavest thy golden one away.” …not so subtly trying to tell Lear that in cleaving the kingdom in two for Goneril and Regen he was left with only two empty shells of heir, as the best he banished and threw away.

The fool knows that he’s pressing the point too boldly and perhaps inviting the wrath of Lear, but he goes on, telling Lear after he threatens to whip him, “I marvel what kind of people you and your daughters are. They’ll have me whipped for speaking the truth, you will have me whipped for lying, and sometimes I am whipped for holding my peace. “I had rather be any kind of thing than a fool. And yet I would not be thee…thou hast pared thy wit on both sides and left nothing in the middle.”

“Here comes one of the pairings,” he says, as daughter Goneril enters. Lear asks why she is frowning, But the fool interjects, speaking to Lear, “I am better than thou art now. I am a fool, thou art nothing”. Then turning to Goneril he says, “Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue, so your face bids me, though you say nothing.”
The fool satirically confronts both Lear and Goneril of the emptiness of their lives and the “nothingness” of their character.

Goneril, ignoring the fool, comes to the reason that she is here to speak to Lear. In an effort to further undermine Lear’s remaining authority and power, Goneril slyly complains to him that his knights are becoming riotous and unruly, and that he has to reduce his retinue to only fifty knights, which of course, is a great insult to any king. Lear’s anger flames furiously again and curses Goneril for her disrespect to a life of barrenness and sterility.

The daughters are growing intolerant of the increasingly deteriorating mental condition of King Lear, sometimes even refusing to see him.
King Lear decides to leave Goneril and the palace of the Duke of Albany to travel to visit his other daughter Regan…to which the fool attempts once more to arouse some kind of insight into the blindness of Lear’s thoughts.
The fool warns, “Your other daughter may treat you kindly, and appear different than Goneril, appearing to be different as a crabapple to an apple, but they will have the same bitter taste.”
“What makes you say this?” asks Lear. The fool says, “Do you know why one’s nose sits in the middle of one’s face?”
Lear. “No.”
Fool: “Why, to keep one’s eyes of either sides nose, that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into.”
King Lear, in a brief instant of insight says, “I did her wrong.”
Concluding their conversation the fool says, “Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.”
Lear responds, “Oh, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! Keep me in temper. I would not be mad!”

The plot unfolds.
The Earl of Gloucester’s Castle
The scene opens with Edmund speaking to a courier who has announced that the Duke of Cornwall and wife, Regan, will be visiting Gloucester’s Castle that evening, Furthermore, the courier shares the rumor that the dukes of Cornwall and Albany may be readying to confront one another in battle.
After the courtier leaves, Edgar enters. The bastard Edmund sets his ploy in place, “Fly this place,” he tells Edgar. Father is still furious with you. He won’t listen to you. Flee!

He fakes a brief sword play with Edgar, then intentionally wounds himself in the forearm just enough to bleed after Edgar flees.

As the father of both, the Earl of Gloucester arrives, and the cunning bastard son, Edmund convinces the Earl that his legitimate son, Edgar, had attacked him, wounded him, and escaped. The Earl’s response is immediate and predictable. And Edgar is unjustifiably on the run.
When the Duke of Cornwall, and Lady Regan arrive, they are told of the incident, and the Duke responds to Edmund: “For you, Edmund, whose virtue and obedience doth this instant so much commend itself, you shall be ours, natures of such deep trust, we shall much need.”
And now, Edmund has deceitfully ingratiated himself to both his father, the Earl of Gloucester, and the Duke of Cornwall.

Outside, before Gloucester’s Castle, a heated exchange occurs between the disguised Kent, advisor to King Lear, and Oswald, the steward of Goneril; resulting in Kent being thrown into the stocks, where he is discovered upon the arrival of King Lear. Only at the insistence of King Lear and the Earl of Gloucester is Kent released from the stocks. But that was only the beginning of King Lear’s problems. His daughters, both Regan and Goneril, refused to accept him in residence unless he completely abandons his knights. Regan, to add injury to insult, locks him out of the castle amidst a raging storm.

King Lear, now doubly rejected, leaves angrily, with only Kent and the fool at his side to weather out the raging storm upon the barren heath. Meanwhile, back at the castle, the Earl of Gloucester tells his bastard son Edmund, who is still in his confidence, that because of the division between the houses of Cornwall and Albany, and possible arising overseas invasion from France, they must support the king to unify Britain once more.
But Edmund, in his deceitful and conniving manner, traitor that he is, goes and betrays his father to Lord Cornwall, initiating the attempt to capture and torture him.

Meanwhile, the Earl of Gloucester has discovered the king, fool, and Kent amidst the heath and brings them to a sheltered cave in which they surprisingly also discover a pathetic vagabond, who unbeknownst to them, is the escaped Edgar disguised as a beggar.
With the help of Edmund, the Duke of Cornwall eventually captures the returning Earl of Gloucester and charges him with conspiracy, all the result of the bastard son’s betrayal.

The Duke of Cornwall mercilessly puts out both of the Earl of Gloucester’s eyes, but in the meantime is wounded by a nearby servant. Calling out to his son for aid, Gloucester shouts, “Edmund, Edmund!” Regan sneers with the revealing words, “It was he that made the overture of the treason to us.” and Gloucester cries out, “Oh, my follies! Then Edgar was abused. Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him!”

A nearby servant, witnessing the cruelty, later laments,” I’ll fetch some flax and whites of eggs to apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him!”

Upon the heath, an old man slowly led Gloucester to the hiding spot of King Lear, disguised Kent, and beggar Edgar, still not knowing that the beggar is his legitimate son Edgar. The Earl of Gloucester attempts to send the old man back to safety, but the old man responds, “Sir, you cannot see your way.” Crying out in his emotional and physical pain, Gloucester states,

“I have no way and therefore want no eyes. I stumbled when I saw. Full oft ‘tis seen, our means secure us, and our mere defects prove our commodities. Ah, dear son Edgar, the food of thy absurd father’s wrath, might I but live to see thee in my touch, I’d say I’d had eyes again!”
Gloucester goes on to sigh, ’tis the times’ plague when mad men lead the blind.”
On they go to Dover to escape the armies of Goneril and Regan.

Outside the Duke of Albany’s palace, Goneril and Edmund plot against the Duke of Albany, her husband, because he has not fully supported the plans to undermine King Lear, nor to torture the Earl of Gloucester. The Duke of Albany says to his wife Goneril, “wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile.” A messenger soon arrives at the palace, conveying the death of the Duke of Cornwall and the fact that it was he who had put out both of the Earl of Gloucester’s eyes. Furthermore, that it was Edmund who had betrayed his father, as the messenger shares, “It was he informed against him, and quit the house on purpose, that their punishment might have been the freer course.”
To which Albany responds, “Gloucester, I live to thank thee for the love thou showst the king, and to revenge thine eyes.” (goodness)

The French have landed and established a camp near Dover, but the King of France has to return to France to deal with a critical issue there, leaving the Marshall of France and Cordelia to execute the battle plan in support of King Lear and against the two sisters, Goneril and Regan.
Kent, the fool, and Lear have arrived at the French camp, where Lear cannot bear to visit his daughter again. Says Kent, “A sovereign shame so elbows him. His own unkindness that stripped her from his benediction, turned her to foreign casualties, gave her dear rights to his dog-hearted daughters. These things sting his mind so venomously that burning shame detains him from Cordelia.”
Cordelia pines, “No blown ambition doth our arms incite, but love, dear love, and our aged father’s right. Soon may I hear and see him!”

The news arrives that the British armies are marching towards the French camp.
His legitimate son, Edgar, still dressed in beggar’s clothes, assists in the care and protection of his now blind father, Gloucester. Oswald, the steward of Goneril, arrives to discover the Earl of Gloucester still alive, draws his sword to kill him only to be blocked by Edgar, stabbed, and killed. Letters from Goneril, intended for Edmund, are found upon Oswald’s body, which implicate Goneril’s plan, with her newfound affection, Edmund, to kill her husband, the Duke of Albany.

In another tent, King Lear lies asleep. A doctor has been attending him, and Cordelia joins him in trying to arouse the King. Slowly, Lear regains a few moments of lucidity, recognizing Cordelia, and asks for her forgiveness. “Pray do not mock me. I am a very foolish fond old man. Four score and upward, not an hour more not less, and, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. Me thinks I should know you and know this man…Do not laugh at me, for I, as I am a man, I think this lady to be my child Cordelia.” To which Cordelia responds, “And so I am, I am.” Lear continues, “If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know you do not love me, for your sisters have, as I do remember, done me wrong. You have some cause, they have not.” And Cornelia responds, “No cause, no cause.” (Nothing to forgive). And the weary king asks once more, “You must bear with me. Pray you now, forget and forgive, I am old and foolish.”
Preparing for the ensuing battle, Edmund is in the British camp with Regan, who is also, along with Goneril, vying for Edmund’s affections. Regan warns Edmund not to place his allegiances in the hands of Goneril. Despite their differences, the sisters agree to unite their forces of the British to face the French invaders.

In the meantime, Edgar, under cover of his disguise, sneaks into the British camp and gives the letter implicating Goneril and Edmund’s plot to Goneril’s husband, The Duke of Albany. Edgar then immediately hurries away back to the French camp.
The trumpets sound.
The banners wave.
Battle lines are drawn.
The die is cast.

The troops clash in their bloody violence. Against the combined British armies of Regan and Goneril, the French army is utterly defeated. Cordelia and Lear are captured and imprisoned under the orders of Edmund.

But the Duke of Albany arrives with the condemning letter in hand implicating the conspiracy of Goneril and Edmund. He charges Edmund with being a traitor and challenges him to a duel to the death. But before they can engage in combat, another personality presents himself, demanding that he be the legitimate challenger to Edmund. He reveals himself as Edgar and proceeds to slay Edmund by the sword. As Edmund lay dying, a servant arrives to announce that lady Regan has died from poisoning at Goneril’s hand, before Goneril commits suicide with a dagger.

Hearing this, Edmund whispers, “I was contracted (betrothed) to them both, all three now marry in an instant.”

Before he dies, Edmund has one moment of remorse, and reveals that he has sent orders for Cordelia to be hanged. Albany sends a messenger with his sword to delay the hanging, but alas, he is too late, and she dies, taking her last breaths in King Lear’s arms. Distraught, Lear takes up the sword and kills the slave that performed the hanging. Lear is rescued and informed that Edmund, Regan, and Goneril are all dead. Cordelia breathes no more. And Lear cries out, “And my poor fool (Cordelia) is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life and thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more, never, never, never, never, never!”
Then Lear collapses and dies.

The Duke of Albany divides the remaining of King Lear’s lands between Edgar and Kent, with the words, “All friends shall taste the wages of their virtue, and all foes the cup of their deservings. Oh, see, see!”
All for nothing. T ’was all for nothing.

That, my dear friends, is why this play is called a tragedy, The Tragedy of King Lear. But it could also be called The Tragedy of the Earl of Gloucester. For, both fathers’ sight was obscured. One by pride and the other by deceit…as they banished the best of their offspring …leaving nothing.