The Reactionary Utopian
August 18, 2005
LEAR'S FOOL
by Joe Sobran
I haven't written about KING LEAR for several weeks
now, and I can hear my public clamoring for more. This is
the season when Congress is on vacation, so we can turn
to topics more worthy of our attention.
If you ask me, KING LEAR is a very good play, even
better than THE ODD COUPLE. This is not an original
opinion, I admit; earlier critics, some more reputable
than I, have said much the same thing. But I would call
your notice to some fine details.
Everyone knows that the scene in which Lear and his
daughter Cordelia are reconciled is one of the most
moving things ever written. I can't even quote it with
dry eyes, and I've been reading it since I was about 16.
The final scene, a pinnacle of tragedy, may even surpass
it. Yet the play owes much of its grandeur and emotional
power to the homely character of Lear's Fool, who is
quite unnecessary to the plot. I love him like an old
friend.
In the opening scene, the old king flies into a rage
when Cordelia, his youngest and favorite daughter,
refuses to flatter him like her two evil sisters, Goneril
and Regan. He disinherits and banishes her, but the king
of France, recognizing that "she is herself a dowry,"
takes her as his queen. The kingdom of Britain is divided
between Lear's other two daughters. At the age of
"fourscore and upwards," Lear is still remarkably
immature, whiling away his time hunting with his rowdy
knights.
Then, unexpectedly, Shakespeare inserts a magical
touch only he could have conceived. After a day's
hunting, the self-indulgent Lear wants to be amused by
his Fool. He complains, "I have not seen him this two
days." One of his knights hesitantly explains the Fool's
absence: "Since my young lady's going into France, sir,
the Fool hath much pined away."
Sheer genius. You hardly notice that simple line the
first time you see or read the play, but as you grow
familiar with it you get the import: it tells you how
much the Fool adores Cordelia and how deeply he is hurt
by what his master has done to her.
The insolent Fool is one of Shakespeare's most
inspired creations. Throughout the first half of the
play, he takes his revenge on Lear with bitter, wounding
humor. Lear threatens to have him whipped, but the Fool
won't lay off, and for some reason Lear puts up with his
taunts. Like Cordelia, the Fool is a truth-teller.
(Goneril hates him.)
Gradually we realize that the Fool is Cordelia's
surrogate during her absence. The two never appear in the
same scene and hardly even refer to each other, but we
have been casually, and very subtly, made aware of their
mutual love.
Shortly afterward, Lear angrily falls out with the
heartless Goneril and, taking his entire retinue, leaves
her household to move in with the equally heartless Regan
(who will soon be the target of another of his furies).
Along the way, the Fool continues to bait Lear for his
folly.
Then Shakespeare plants another of his tremendous
subtleties. As the Fool keeps teasing him, Lear mutters
to himself, "I did her wrong." We immediately realize
that by "her" he means Cordelia.
In those four simple syllables we learn that Lear's
stubborn pride is beginning to crack. There will be more
curses and tantrums, but his redemption has begun.
Despite her absence, Cordelia is present to him in
his Fool. Instead of threatening him with whipping, Lear,
in the midst of his own suffering and madness, treats him
with the utmost tenderness, affectionately calling him
"my boy." It's his indirect way of expressing his love
and regret for his cruelty to his only true-hearted
daughter.
All these tiny touches prepare us for the matchless
scene of reconciliation, when Lear, totally transformed
(though still half-insane), tearfully begs Cordelia to
forgive him. Instead, she weeps too and tells him there
is nothing to forgive.
KING LEAR is certainly Shakespeare's grimmest play,
with no cerebral hero like Hamlet, but its gallery of
good and evil characters makes it unique. Those who
remain loyal to Lear -- as the little Fool, in spite of
his own anger, always does -- prevail, when the others
have been consumed by their own depravity.
The Fool mysteriously disappears halfway through the
play. We are left uncertain whether he is even still
alive. But before he vanishes, he has helped give KING
LEAR its incomparable emotional depth.
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