Though Lear is a tragedy, with two
distinct yet interwoven tragic plots, there is a third, if minor, comedic plot: the imminent return of Cordelia, now
Queen of France, and the hoped-for restoration of a stable English kingdom. If
tragedy is a descent, a sloping downward trajectory, comedy is u-shaped.
Comedy begins in relative stability; descends into adversity, discord and instability; then rises toward a comedic resolution in which the adversity is overcome and harmony restored. This pattern is suggested at the beginning of Act 3 where Kent intimates that “from France there comes a power / Into this scattered kingdom” (3.1.30-31). This comedic development, the potential for an upward turn in the trajectory of the plot, occurs even as Lear descends into ever greater adversity.
The presence of a comedic element in the play only intensifies the
emotional power of the tragedy, for it teases the audience with the possibility of a
happy conclusion, only to dash our hopes in the end. Shakespeare used a similar
technique in, for example, Romeo and Juliet, where the
play is framed by plans for a grand wedding celebration, the typical symbol of comic
closure; includes an actual marriage, the lovers’ clandestine elopement; and
concludes with their suicide, a macabre marriage in death. Acts 3-5 of Lear similarly intersperse moments of comedic hope
among the play’s overwhelmingly tragic plot developments.
Scenes 2, 4, and 6 of Act 3 are concerned principally with the tragic education of a fallen king, while scenes 3, 5, and 7 are devoted to the development of Edmund’s plot against Gloucester and Edgar. This interweaving juxtaposes treacherous ambition against a kind of moral awakening. Though the following prompts do not deal with the Edmund scenes, feel free to comment on them, especially where you detect some ironic or otherwise interesting connection.
Lear’s decline into madness and powerlessness is accompanied
by his spiritual regeneration—a painful and gradual process, but also
transformative. The king, that is, paradoxically descends into adversity while
at the same time acquiring a kind of knowledge, even wisdom, that would have
been impossible without his degradation. Aristotle’s word for this in the Poetics is anagnorisis, which means “recognition.” Aristotle also writes that in the
best tragedies this recognition moment is accompanied by a sudden change in
circumstances, what he calls peripeteia. Lear’s
being thrust into the storm is just such a sudden reversal of fortune; and it is
followed almost immediately by an expanded consciousness and recognition of
matters of grave importance to any responsible ruler—matters of which,
until now, he has been entirely ignorant.
This tragic education begins in 3.2 with the stark image of a king entirely stripped of his mythical grandeur. Examine 3.2.1-9 and 3.2.14-24 and comment on the imagery you find most striking and why. What, for example, are we to make of Lear decreeing (like a king!) universal abortion or miscarriage: “Crack nature’s moulds, all germens spill at once / That makes ingrateful man” (8-9)?
Next, examine lines 49-59. What has Lear discovered by virtue of being exposed to the elements, the storm? How would you describe the manner in which he expresses this new knowledge? And how are this passage’s concluding lines—“I am a man / More sinned against than sinning”—connected to what precedes them? Does this make sense?
After Kent urges him to take shelter from the storm, Lear says that his “wits begin to turn” (67). What does he mean by this? And how is it related to what he then says to the Fool, “Come on, my boy …” (68-71)?
Examine the Fool’s soliloquy at 3.2.79-95. What is the argument of this cryptic passage, and how might we connect it to Lear’s growing awareness?
We have observed that Lear and Edgar are similar in their tragic descents: Lear into powerlessness, despair, and the beginnings of madness; Edgar into alienation from his family, poverty, and (feigned) madness as the disguised Tom’o’Bedlam. In 3.4, these two characters come together, along with the Fool and Kent, two minor characters similarly subjected to the adversity symbolized by the storm. They are soon joined by Gloucester who, though yet secure in his position as Duke, will soon suffer the play’s cruelest and most extreme example of a change in fortune.
Examining 3.4 in its entirety, identify passages you find most emotionally affective and explain why. Below are a few passages linked to audio:
In 3.6, Lear stages a mock-trial in which he imagines that the defendants, Goneril and Regan, are present. Examine this trial (3.6.20-77) and offer any observations you think pertinent. Note, for example, that Edgar, feigning madness, intersperses comments throughout. Do any of these comments have some kind of ironic or otherwise indirect connection to the mock-trial?
Consider Lear’s question, “Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts?” (3.4.76-77). The editor’s footnote indicates that this is one of the play’s most important issues—the question of how it is that human beings can treat each other so monstrously. Rather than try to answer that question (an impossible task, perhaps), identify a prior moment in the play where this question seems most pressing and explain why.
Scene 6 closes with a soliloquy, Edgar’s second: Again, what is the argument here, and why does it matter? And what about “He childed as I fathered” (109)? First, what does he mean? And second, can you think of other passages prior to this moment in which the pain of belonging to a family is most evident?
The final scene of Act 3 (scene 7) stages what in my opinion is the most disturbing act of violence in all of Shakespeare. I have seen several performances of the play and have always found this moment more difficult to watch than a Scorcese gangster film, or anything cooked up by that master of violent display, Quentin Tarantino. Even though the artifice of a theatrical performance is obvious (for example, red rags tossed from an actor’s body to simulate blood from an abdominal stabbing), there is something about being in the same room, and hearing an unamplifed human voice scream in agony, that makes the theatrical experience of this scene horrific. I recall in particular a performance years ago at Stratford (Ontario): I was in the third row, very close to the stage, and simply had to turn away and not watch. I was not the only one. Reading the play rather than seeing a film lessens the experience even more, so I would encourage you to find a good film performance and watch it. (The one with Ian McKellan—a.k.a Gandalf, here acting rather than mugging for the camera—is especially good.)
Identify any moments of ironic foreshadowing in the scene and comment on their effectiveness.
Next, consider the moments immediately following completion of
the nasty deed (3.7.84-90). Note that as soon as he is blinded, Gloucester
finally “sees” the truth. A perfect combining of anagnorisis and peripeteia (recognition
and sudden change in fortune), this is similar to the blinding of Oedipus,
though in reverse: whereas Oedipus discovers the truth and then gouges out his
own eyes, Gloucester is blinded against his will prior to his moment of
recognition.
Note, finally, the intervention of the minor character known only as First Servant (72-81). Does he remind us of anyone? He should. Who, and why?