King Lear

Shakespeare’s plays always seem to be hit or miss. I haven’t met someone who has been on the fence about his works; you either love it or hate it. As someone who didn’t like Romeo and Juliet but appreciated Hamlet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream to name a few, I enjoyed reading King Lear.

Although I’m a female, I never put much stock in feminists or their arguments, so of course I went into this assignment with reservations. At first, I read Coppelia Kahn’s (whose name bears some semblance to an illustrious Mongol emperor) interpretation and immediately wrote half of my blog about how much I disagree with her standpoint and how she only sees the big picture and not the details. Then, I read the e-mail excerpt a second and third time and found myself agreeing with it more each passing.

In King Lear, there was a painfully obvious lack of maternal figures. Being older than 80, there’s no doubt that Lear’s own mother was dead, and his wife (or at least a baby-momma to put it modernly) is scarcely mentioned. Reflecting on the time, men were expected to act differently from women, suppressing ideals, views, or actions considered feminine. It wasn’t normal for men to act maternally, especially the king. Because Lear’s offspring were depraved of maternal figures, two out of his three children repressed their feminine emotions, as well. It was only Cordelia, feminine and nurturing character, that held the brunt of the maternal weight.

With most Shakespearian and even Greek tragedies, it’s the characters pride that brings the characters to their demise, and King Lear is no exception. It’s always easy to ask “what if?” in Shakespeare’s works. What if Lear actually listened to Cordelia in the first Act instead of casting her out before she’s heard? What if he thought before he acted impulsively on anger? But if things were different, and there was no “what if”, then it wouldn’t be a tragic at all. If Lear had accepted Cordelia’s answer and let her take care of him in his age, the remaining sisters wouldn’t rebel and there would be no drama, action, or interest in the play.

As the play carries on, Lear realizes his mistakes, and at the very end of King Lear, he asks for forgiveness for his rashness. However, Lear’s acceptance of his human limitations and his reverence for Cordelia don’t necessarily mean he’s stopped avoiding the tears referred to as “women’s weapons”. Lear has just acknowledged his wrongdoings and through his age, he learned to be vulnerable. Ultimately, being prideful did nothing but stick him in a rainstorm.