Approaches to Teaching

Shakespeare’s

Edited by Robert H. Ray

 Modern Language Association of America

Approaches to Teaching
World Literature

Joseph Gibaldi, Series Editor

1. Joseph Gibaldi, ed. Approaches to Teaching Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. 1980.

2. Carole Slade, ed. Approaches to Teaching Dante’s Divine Comedy. 1982.
3. Richard Bjornson, ed. Approaches to Teaching Cervantes’ Don Quixote. 1984.
4. Jess B. Bessinger, Jr., and Robert F. Yeager, eds. Approaches to Teaching Beowulf.
1984.
5. Richard J. Dunn, ed. Approaches to Teaching Dickens’ David Copperfield. 1984.
6. Steven G. Kellman, ed. Approaches to Teaching Camus’s The Plague. 1985.
7. Yvonne Shafer, ed. Approaches to Teaching Ibsens A Doll House. 1985.
8. Martin Bickman, ed. Approaches to Teaching Melville’s Moby-Dick. 1985.
9. Miriam Youngerman Miller and Jane Chance, eds. Approaches to Teaching Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight. 1986.
10. Galbraith M. Crump, ed. Approaches to Teaching Miltons Paradise Lost. 1986.
11. Spencer Hall, with Jonathan Ramsey, eds. Approaches to Teaching Wordsworth’s
Poetry. 1986.
12. Robert H. Ray, ed. Approaches to Teaching Shakespeare’s King Lear. 1986.
13. Kostas Myrsiades, ed. Approaches to Teaching Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. 1987.
14. Douglas J. McMillan, ed. Approaches to Teaching Goethe’s Faust. 1987.
15. Renee Waldinger, ed. Approaches to Teaching Voltaire’s Candide. 1987.
16. Bernard Koloski, ed. Approaches to Teaching Chopin’s The Awakening. 1988.
17. Kenneth M. Roemer, ed. Approaches to Teaching Momaday’s The Way to Rainy
Mountain. 1988.
18. Edward J. Rielly, ed. Approaches to Teaching Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. 1988.
19. Jewel Spears Brooker, ed. Approaches to Teaching Eliot’s Poetry and Plays. 1988.
20. Melvyn New, ed. Approaches to Teaching Sterne’s Tristram Shandy. 1989.
21. Robert F. Gleckner and Mark L. Greenberg, eds. Approaches to Teaching Blake’s
Songs of Innocence and of Experience. 1989.
22. Susan J. Rosowski, ed. Approaches to Teaching Cather’s My Antonia. 1989.
23. Carey Kaplan and Ellen Cronan Rose, eds. Approaches to Teaching Lessing’s The
Golden Notebook. 1989.
24. Susan Resneck Parr and Pancho Savery, eds. Approaches to Teaching Ellisons
Invisible Man. 1989.
25. Barry N. Olshen and Yael S. Feldman, eds. Approaches to Teaching the Hebrew
Bible as Literature in Translation. 1989.
26. Robin Riley Fast and Christine Mack Gordon, eds. Approaches to Teaching
Dickinsons Poetry. 1989.
27. Spencer Hall, ed. Approaches to Teaching Shelley’s Poetry. 1990.
28. Sidney Gottlieb, ed. Approaches to Teaching the Metaphysical Poets. 1990.
29. Richard K. Emmerson, ed. Approaches to Teaching Medieval English Drama. 1990.
30. Kathleen Blake, ed. Approaches to Teaching Eliot’s Middlemarch. 1990.
31. Maria Elena de Valdes and Mario J. Valdes, eds. Approaches to Teaching Garda
Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. 1990.
 Approaches to
Teaching Shakespeare’s
King Lear

Edited by

Robert H. Ray

The Modern Language Association of America

New York 1986
 «35k?-

Copyright © 1986 by The Modern Language Association of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Approaches to teaching Shakespeare’s King Lear.

(Approaches to teaching world literature)
Bibliography: p.
Includes index.
1. Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616. King Lear.
2. Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616—Study and teaching
(Higher) 3. Lear, King, in fiction, drama, poetry, etc.
I. Ray, Robert H., 1940- II. Series.
PR2819.A95 1986 822.3'3 86-12734
ISBN 0-87352-497-7
ISBN 0-87352-498-5 (pbk.)

Cover illustration of the paperback edition: medieval tile design (Carol Belanger
Grafton, ed., Old English Tile Designs [New York: Dover, 1985] 65).

Second printing, 1990

Published by The Modern Language Association of America

10 Astor Place, New York, New York 10003
CONTENTS

Preface to the Series viii

Preface to the Volume ix

PART ONE: MATERIALS Robert H. Ray 1

Editions 3
Introduction 3
Complete Editions of Shakespeare 3
Single Editions 7
Anthologies 3
Required and Recommended Student Readings 10
The Instructor’s Library 12
Introduction 12
Reference Works 13
Background Studies 10
Source Studies 10
Theatrical Studies 10
Textual Studies 21
Critical and Linguistic Studies 23
Aids to Teaching 29

PART TWO: APPROACHES 33

Introduction 35
General Overviews
An Eclectic Critical Approach: Sources, Language,
Imagery, Character, and Themes
Vincent F. Petronella 38
Teaching a Plural Work Pluralistically
Kenneth S. Rothwell 30
Specific Approaches
An Approach through Theme: Marriage and
the Family
Lynda E. Boose 39

v
 VI CONTENTS

An Archetypal Approach
Ann E. Imbrie 69
King Lear in a Literature Survey Course
Ann Eaton 75
Sight and Perception in King Lear: An Approach
through Imagery and Theme
Frances Teague 80
An Approach through Dramatic Structure
James E. Hirsh 86
Mapping” King Lear in a Drama Survey Course:
A Guide in an Antiformalist Terrain
Maurice Hunt 91
Shakespearean Tragedy in a Renaissance Context:
King Lear and Hooker’s Of the Laws of
Ecclesiastical Polity
Bruce W. Young 98
Teaching with a Proper Text
Michael Warren 105
A Theatrical Approach: King Lear as Performance
and Experience
/. L. Styan Ill
A Theatrical Approach: Readers’ Theater
John B. Harcourt 119
An Approach through Visual Stimuli and
Student Writing
Jean Klene, CSC
125
King Lear in a Course on Shakespeare and
Film
Hugh M. Richmond
130
“Is This the Promis’d End?”: Teaching the Play’s
Conclusion
David L. Kranz
136
Epilogue

A Course Devoted Exclusively to King Lear

J. W. Robinson
142
 Contents vii

Participants in Survey of Shakespeare Instructors 147

Works Cited 149

Index 163
PREFACE TO THE SERIES

In The Art of Teaching Gilbert Highet wrote, “Bad teaching wastes a great
deal of effort, and spoils many lives which might have been full of energy
and happiness.” All too many teachers have failed in their work, Highet
argued, simply “because they have not thought about it.” We hope that the
Approaches to Teaching World Literature series, sponsored by the Modern
Language Association s Committee on Teaching and Related Professional
Activities, will not only improve the craft—as well as the art—of teaching
but also encourage serious and continuing discussion of the aims and
methods of teaching literature.
The principal objective of the series is to collect within each volume dif¬
ferent points of view on teaching a specific literary work, a literary tradi¬
tion, or a writer widely taught at the undergraduate level. The preparation
of each volume begins with a wide-ranging survey of instructors, thus en¬
abling us to include in the volume the philosophies and approaches,
thoughts and methods of scores of experienced teachers. The result is a
sourcebook of material, information, and ideas on teaching the subject of
the volume to undergraduates.
The series is intended to serve nonspecialists as well as specialists, inex¬
perienced as well as experienced teachers, graduate students who wish to
learn effective ways of teaching as well as senior professors who wish to
compare their own approaches with the approaches of colleagues in other
schools. Of course, no volume in the series can ever substitute for erudi¬
tion, intelligence, creativity, and sensitivity in teaching. We hope merely
that each book will point readers in useful directions; at most each will
offer only a first step in the long journey to successful teaching.

Joseph Gibaldi
Series Editor

Vlll
PREFACE TO THE VOLUME

The world’s finest dramatist appropriately enters the Modern Language

Association’s Approaches to Teaching World Literature series in a volume
on what may be his greatest play and is probably the one most often taught
in college. The volume, like all others in the series, primarily concerns itself
with teaching undergraduates. It should be most useful for beginning
teachers of King Lear and for nonspecialists who teach the play in various
undergraduate literature courses. Though experienced Shakespeareans
probably will encounter much that seems elementary, they may also find
much of interest, including some new ideas about teaching the play; the
second part of the volume particularly should offer matters of significance
to specialists and nonspecialists alike. It is also hoped that many teachers
will recommend the book, or portions of it, to graduate students, along with
other research and pedagogical tools.
The volume follows the format established for the series. Part 1, “Mate¬
rials,” deals with such questions as editions, student readings, books and ar¬
ticles most helpful as resources for the teacher of the play (reference, back¬
ground, source, theatrical, critical, and linguistic works), and aids to
teaching (illustrations, slides, films, videotapes, and recordings). The sug¬
gestions in this part derive mainly from information supplied by respon¬
dents to a survey conducted by the MLA. This section makes no attempt to
be exhaustive in treating the materials available on King Lear; rather, the
intent is to be selective and to discuss those materials most mentioned,
used, and valued for the practical purpose of helping one to teach the
play.
The series format dictates the essential content, style, and tone ol the
“Materials” section. This section is not a subjectively evaluative review
essay. Rather, its subdivisions are guides, aids for reference on particular
topics, and are more reportorial and descriptive than prescriptive and criti¬
cal. For more subjective evaluations of materials, the reader may consult
the reviews of articles and books that regularly appear in such journals and
annuals as Shakespeare Quarterly and Shakespeare Survey. In addition, the
limitations of space in the present volume dictate mere listings and bi ief
annotations in the “Materials” section rather than the lengthy reviews per¬
missible for single items in quarterlies and annuals. For topics discussed
and evaluated more fully in contributors essays later in the volume,
however, appropriate cross-references are provided.
Part 2, “Approaches,” presents sixteen essays that describe a variety of
approaches in teaching King Lear. Contributions were invited from those

IX
X PREFACE TO THE VOLUME

who participated in the survey, and invitations were issued on the basis of
responses to the questionnaire. A range of classroom emphases, tech¬
niques, problems, and solutions are thus represented and shared with other
teachers. An appendix of survey participants, a list of works cited, and an
index conclude the book. All works quoted or mentioned appear with full
bibliographical information in the list of works cited.
For generous assistance I am indebted to many persons and groups. First,
I wish to thank the participants in the Modern Language Association sur¬
vey for responding to the questionnaire; without these responses the
volume would not be possible. The members of the MLA Committee on
Teaching and Related Professional Activities are to be commended for
their sponsorship of this series. Joseph Gibaldi, general editor of the series,
provided astute suggestions and judgments throughout the project. The
encouragement, advice, and insights of Maurice Hunt and Carole Slade are
also greatly appreciated. I am grateful to various groups and individuals at
my own institution, Baylor University, for providing essential time and
funding. I particularly wish to thank James Barcus, chair of the department
of English, for his full support, and William G. Toland, a dean willing to
grant needed released time for faculty projects. For research sabbaticals
and grants for this work, I am heavily indebted to the Faculty Development
Committee and the University Research Committee. For their most effi¬
cient help in managing correspondence and typing, I thank the office staff
of the department of English, Mary Margaret Stewart and Nancy Floyd.
The greatest acknowledgment for deep and continuing support must be
reserved for my parents, wife, and daughters: Ben and Allene, Lynette, and
Robin and Donna.

RHR
 Part One

MATERIALS
Robert H. Ray
■

■
 Editions

Introduction
This section assesses editions of King Lear now being used in courses, as
reported by participants in the survey that preceded preparation of this
volume. Attention is given to the relative popularity of editions, as well as to
strengths and weaknesses in such areas as completeness of text, accuracy of
text, commentary, introductions, notes, and physical format. Both favorable
and unfavorable comments by respondents are included. This information
should aid instructors in selecting editions most suitable for their particular
situations and purposes.
Three categories of texts are covered here—complete, one-volume
editions of the works of Shakespeare, editions of King Lear alone, and
anthologies that contain King Lear among other plays or among other works
of literature. These categories determine the organization of the following
discussion. For full bibliographical information on editions discussed, refer
to the list of works cited, where editions are listed by editor.

Complete Editions of Shakespeare

By far the most widely used edition of Shakespeare’s works is The Riverside
Shakespeare (G. Blakemore Evans, textual ed.). Supplying introductions and
explanatory notes are Herschel Baker (histories), Frank Kermode (trage¬
dies), and Hallett Smith (romances and poems). For the comedies, Anne
Barton wrote the introductions, and the notes were begun by Lloyd E. Berry
and completed by G. Blakemore Evans and Marie Edel. This edition con¬
tains the complete works of Shakespeare, including The Two Noble Kinsmen
and the portions of Sir Thomas More ascribed to Shakespeare. Other major
sections in the volume are a general introduction by Harry Levin; Shake¬
speare’s Text,” “Chronology and Sources,” “Records, Documents, and
Allusions,” and “Annals, 1552-1616” by G. Blakemore Evans; and “Shake¬
speare’s Plays in Performance: From 1660 to the Present” by Charles Shat-
tuck. The plays are printed in a double-column fonnat with notes and
glosses at the bottom of each column. After each play Evans includes a note
on the text and a list of textual variants. A selected bibliography appears
near the end of the volume. A generous number of portraits and contem¬
porary illustrations are provided throughout the work.
The most frequently mentioned reason for using this edition is its textual
strength. Most respondents view the text as carefully edited with a “strong
bibliographical orientation” and “textual authority,” and they give high
praise to Evans’s essay “Shakespeare’s Text,” with its clearly articulated

3
4 MATERIALS

principles of analytic and descriptive bibliography.” The notes on texts

following each play are illuminating. For example, Evans comments on the
complicated and confusing textual problems of King Lear and explains
some of the major cruxes. The basis for his edition of the play is the First
Folio, but he does incorporate some lines and readings from quarto editions.
One teacher remarks that the bracketing of questionable readings within
the text is somewhat distracting but that this text is still the best available
for undergraduate study. Despite the generally favorable view of the text
and the editorial policy behind it, several instructors indicate dissatisfac¬
tion with what one terms the “inconsistent printing of original and
modernized spellings.” The random archaisms left in the text seem “odd”
to one respondent, and another advises the editor to “either modernize or
print old spellings.”
The introductory and appended sections of this edition are frequendy
applauded by teachers who use them. Levin’s introduction provides an ex¬
cellent overview. The appended “Records, Documents, and Allusions” is
also highly praised as useful for perceiving Shakespeare and his works in a
contemporary context. One teacher notes that two valuable and relatively
unique features are the essay by Shattuck, which discusses the changing
styles of Shakespearean performance, and the annals by Evans, a year-by-
year synopsis of major literary and political events from 1552 to 1616.
Other features of the edition are commended. Since the line numbers
correspond to those in Marvin Spevack’s Harvard Concordance to Shake¬
speare, this edition facilitates research into verbal patterns in Shakespeare.
The introductions to the individual plays also are generally well received.
Even though some teachers feel the introductions are not uniform in
quality, others value the diversity of approaches represented. Many com¬
ment particularly on the excellence of Kermode’s introduction to King Lear,
indicating that it is one of the best in the volume; one survey respondent
calls it “remarkably inclusive for its length.”
There are disagreements concerning other facets of the Riverside.
Although the explanatory notes seek a happy medium in number and full¬
ness, teachers who wish to save class time prefer more notes, whereas those
who wish to provide their own explanatory information in class prefer
fewer. Perhaps the majority opinion is best summarized by one respondent’s
comment that the notes do not overwhelm undergraduate students and are
“adequate.” One disadvantage to the system of footnoting in this edition is
that the text provides no indication that a word, phrase, or line is explained
in the notes below: line number and gloss simply appear at the bottom of the
page. Also, a frequent criticism of this volume as a teaching text is very prac¬
tical: many feel it simply is too cumbersome, “too heavy for students to carry
comfortably. Despite the disadvantages and limitations of the Riverside, its
strengths seem to carry the day with many Shakespeare instructors. As one
 Robert H. Ray 5

says, “In general the text provides more inclusive coverage than any other
single volume of the collected plays.”
The edition that currently presents the strongest challenge to Evans’s is
David Bevington’s The Complete Works of Shakespeare. This edition con¬
tains the same works as Evans’s, except The Two Noble Kinsmen and the Sir
Thomas More fragments. The volume begins with a general introduction
containing “Life in Shakespeare’s England,” “The Drama before Shake¬
speare,” “London Theatres and Dramatic Companies,” “Shakespeare’s Life
and Work,” “Shakespeare’s Language: His Development as Poet and
Dramatist,” “Editions and Editors of Shakespeare,” and “Shakespeare
Criticism.” Portraits, photographs, and illustrations appear at intervals
through the introduction. Four appendixes are entided “Canon, Dates, and
Early Texts,” “Sources,” “Shakespeare in Performance,” and “Doubtful and
Lost Plays.” After the appendixes come royal genealogical charts; maps of
London, England, and western France; and a bibliography for further read¬
ing and research. Bevington places his textual notes near the end of the
volume rather than after each play. He also includes a glossary of Shake¬
spearean words. The plays are printed in a double-column format with ex¬
planatory notes at the bottom of each column.
The advocates of Bevington’s edition emphasize its superior readability
and usability as a teaching text. Its type is larger and more easily read than
the ones used in other complete editions of Shakespeare. Bevington also
prints speech prefixes in full and thus avoids confusion among variously ab¬
breviated names of characters. Moreover, teachers note the easier, more
rapid reading possible in an edition that numbers only those lines with ideas
explained in the notes.
Several respondents praise the quality of those explanatory notes and of
the introductions to the individual plays. They say that Bevington s glosses
are concise and accurate and provide more than conventional views, that
the introductions are “clear” and “illuminating.”
Other features of Bevington’s edition are admired. These comments of
teachers who use it are typical: well-edited, sound editions of plays,
“copious and reliable introductory material,” “useful material on the theater
of Shakespeare’s day.” One instructor notes that this edition has the most
up-to-date bibliography and that the bibliography seems very well selected
for individual plays. In general, the number of teachers already using this
latest edition of Bevington’s is impressive, and its adherents point out many
advantages and few disadvantages in its use.
Another edition still preferred by many is William Shakespeare: The Com¬
plete Works (Alfred Harbage, gen. ed.). This volume does not contain The
Two Noble Kinsmen or the extracts from Sir Thomas More. The plays have
individual editors, though some of the scholars edit more than one play;
King Lear is edited by Harbage. The volume contains few illustrations: it is
6 MATERIALS

primarily made up of the works themselves. Its general introduction con¬

tains the following sections: “The Intellectual and Political Background” by
Ernest A. Strathmann, “Shakespeare’s Life” by Frank W. Wadsworth, “The
Canon” by Alfred Harbage, “Shakespeare’s Theatre” by Bernard Becker-
man, “Shakespeare’s Technique” by Alfred Harbage, “The Original Texts”
by Cyrus Hoy, and “Editions and Current Variant Beadings” by Alfred
Harbage. The plays are printed in a double-column format with notes and
glosses at the bottom of the inner column on each page.
Users note many strong features. Its size makes it easier to carry than any
other complete edition. Like Bevington’s, this text is admired for the system
of numbering lines that need a gloss or note and for printing characters’
names in full. One teacher likes the “minimal use of post-Shakespearean
stage directions.” The introductions to the individual plays receive high
praise for their sophisticated commentary” and for focusing on interpreta¬
tion. Harbage’s introduction to King Lear is particularly lauded for its ex¬
cellence: in fact, one teacher says, “No introduction matches Harbage’s for
eloquence and penetration.” The glosses and notes are generally assessed as
“brief ” but “adequate.”
The major reservation expressed about this edition concerns textual
weaknesses—specifically that the editing is uneven, its quality varying from
play to play and from editor to editor. The apparent assumption in this
criticism is that the authority of the texts and editions behind some of the
plays needs to be examined more carefully. As a consequence, one might
urge that certain plays in this edition be reedited, especially in the light of
modern discoveries on quarto and folio texts.
A few teachers prefer to use another older one-volume edition, The Com¬
plete Signet Classic Shakespeare (Sylvan Barnet, gen. ed.). In contrast to the
three editions previously discussed, this one does not categorize and
arrange plays by type (comedy, tragedy, etc.); instead, it presents them
chronologically (including The Two Noble Kinsmen but not the Sir Thomas
More fragments), The poems follow the plays. Separate editors are assigned
to the plays; Russell Fraser edits King Lear. A double-column format, with
notes and glosses at the bottom of each column, is employed. A small super¬
script circle is placed directly after each word or phrase explained in the
notes. Speech prefixes are in full. Barnet provides a general introduction to
the volume, discussing such matters as the life of Shakespeare, the theater
and actors, intellectual background, the major types of Shakespearean
drama, and Shakespeare s English. A limited number of illustrations appear
in the introduction. A selective bibliography entitled “Suggested Refer¬
ences appears at the end of the volume. One teacher commends the
general introductory material, but another expresses dissatisfaction with the
introduction to King Lear, feeling that it is verbose and directed more
toward literary critics than undergraduates.
 Robert H. Ray 7

For the future, teachers of Shakespeare anticipate the publication of The

Complete Oxford Shakespeare, an edition that particularly addresses the
issues of old and modern spellings and the textual problems of King Lear.
(See the essay by Michael Warren in part 2 of this volume for more
information.)

Single Editions

Many teachers in a variety of courses (particularly in those using a survey

anthology of British literature that does not contain King Lear) select a
single edition of the play. One of the most widely used is that edited by
Kenneth Muir for the Arden Shakespeare series. One teacher who uses the
Riverside in a Shakespeare course requires, in addition, the Arden King
Lear for class use and says, “I think majors ought to confront at least once a
fully edited text.” Teachers using this edition (available in paperback)
stress its fullness and comprehensiveness. Muir’s introduction discusses
the text, date, sources, history of the play from 1605 to 1950, the play itself,
and recent criticism. The “copious notes” and “elaborate scholarly an¬
notations” are highly regarded by many instructors, some of whom em¬
phasize the edition’s value both for students and as a reference tool for
teachers. Textual and explanatory notes appear on the pages with the text.
Several respondents to the survey feel that the Arden edition particularly
helps in explaining Shakespeare’s sources. Muir’s comments in his in¬
troduction are helpful, but also of great aid is the reprinting (in seven ap¬
pendixes) of relevant material from King Leir, The Mirror for Magistrates,
Holinshed, Spenser, Sidney, Florio, and Harsnett.
Of the few reservations expressed about this edition, the major one is
that it might not be the most appropriate for undergraduates: several
teachers specifically recommend its use on the graduate level and in
seminars but not below the advanced undergraduate level. Instructors also
point out that the binding easily cracks: as one says, after praising the con¬
tent of the volume, “it is falling apart.”
For undergraduates, probably the most widely used single edition of
King Lear is that edited by Russell Fraser in 1963 for the Signet Classic
Shakespeare series. Some teachers like its lack of full scholarly and critical
apparatus. One respondent comments, “The annotation is brief enough not
to distract from the main job of reading the text. Most instructors using
this volume remark that it is quite attractive in price, compared to similar
editions (“one of the best inexpensive paperback editions ). The cost ap¬
parently explains why it is still more widely used than more recent, up-to-
date, and textually sophisticated single editions (such as Hunter’s, dis¬
cussed below). A few teachers acknowledge that the text of the play is
“weaker” than in other editions; one suggests that a second Signet edition
8 MATERIALS

is now needed; and another warns that the quality of paper has deter¬
iorated in recent printings.
The most favorable comments about the Signet single edition concern its
inclusion of excerpts from source materials and critical commentaries.
Selections from Holinshed, Sidney, and King Leir are appended. Teachers
particularly value the classroom usefulness of critical excerpts from Samuel
Johnson, A. C. Bradley, Harley Granville-Barker, and Harry Levin.
Three other single editions available in paperback are mentioned by
teachers who use them. The Pelican text, edited by Alfred Harbage, is re¬
spected for its introduction to the play. Those who use G. K. Hunter’s New
Penguin Shakespeare edition commend it highly. Hunter provides an in¬
troduction, suggestions for further reading, an account of the text, and a
section entitled “Words for Music in King Lear. ” One unique feature of this
edition is the absence of glosses or notes on the pages of the text. All com¬
mentary is printed immediately following the play in a section of 128
pages, divided according to acts and scenes. Despite his edition’s incon¬
venient arrangement, Hunter’s superior textual knowledge, scholarly ac¬
curacy, and critical incisiveness make the New Penguin a most intellec¬
tually satisfying single edition. His introduction and comments are full of
clarifications for both the student and the teacher. Finally, Louis B. Wright
and Virginia A. Lamar are the editors of King Lear in the Folger Library
General Reader’s Shakespeare. One teacher suggests that this edition is
useful for students reading the play for the first time, since the glosses are
on pages facing the text and brief synopses of the play’s overt action appear
before each scene. Also, spelling and punctuation are modernized, and a
general introduction is included.
An important single edition projected for the future is that of the Oxford
English Texts edition. (See the essay by Michael Warren in part 2.)

Anthologies

For a course (or a part of a course) that covers a limited number of Shake¬
speare’s plays, a particularly useful anthology is Shakespeare in Perfor¬
mance: An Introduction through Six Major Plays, edited by John Russell
Brown. Along with King Lear, this paperback contains Romeo and Juliet,
Henry IV, Part 1, Twelfth Night, Othello, and The Tempest. Glosses and ex¬
planatory notes are in the margins of the pages of text. Many photographs
of productions, scenes, and actors are also provided. As one would expect,
this edition is particularly tailored to a study through the theatrical ap¬
proach. One teacher who uses this method of teaching King Lear prefers
Brown s anthology because of its help in blocking, staging, and acting out
the play. The editor’s copious commentaiy on positioning, movements,
cues, pauses, tones, and facial expressions are illuminating to both teachers
 Robert H. Ray 9

and students who wish to envision the play from the perspective of
performance.
The anthology apparently most used in English literature survey courses
is the two-volume Norton Anthology of English Literature (M. H. Abrams,
gen. ed.). Whether Shakespeare specialists or not, many teach King Lear
from the text in the first volume of the Norton Anthology, which also con¬
tains Henry IV, Part 1 and selections from Shakespeare’s poetry. The inclu¬
sion of King Lear in this popular anthology probably means that it is the
most frequently taught Shakespearean play, at least in the United States.
The sixteenth-century section is edited by Hallett Smith, who provides a
two-page introduction to the play; his glosses and explanatory notes appear
as footnotes.
Teachers generally feel that the Norton Anthology is the best of its type
and particularly agree with the selection of King Lear as one of its major
works. Some feel, however, that the “cramped text in a thick volume”
makes it difficult for students to read and take notes. Most instructors con¬
sider both the introduction to King Lear and the explanatory notes as “ac¬
ceptable” or “adequate.” One respondent, however, feels that the in¬
troduction is “simple” and the notes “mediocre.” But this same teacher
thinks the edition acceptable if supplemented by some critical works.
Another instructor would like the volume to provide students with more
help in understanding Shakespeare’s language. Another criticism is that
the Norton edition should more carefully consider the new knowledge
concerning original texts of King Lear. Respondents are satisfied with the
anthology as a whole and recognize that any such work will vary in the
quality of its parts. The convenience of a textbook that includes King Lear
among so many other major works of English literature and the economical
price are attractive features that offset its disadvantages.
10 MATERIALS

Required and Recommended Student Readings

Many teachers indicate that the introductory and appended materials in

the editions selected for their courses are sufficient for extra student
readings. But others believe that one or two additional books, either recom¬
mended or required, aid student understanding and assist the teacher in the
classroom.
Some books frequently suggested to students fall into the category of
background of the age, especially intellectual background. Theodore Spen¬
cer’s Shakespeare and the Nature of Man is frequendy recommended for its
treatment of ideas in Shakespeare’s time that are particularly relevant to
King Lear. Similarly, several teachers suggest C. S. Lewis’s Discarded
Image: An Introduction to Medieval and Renaissance Literature. Many
students are interested in Lewis’s work generally and are receptive to read¬
ing him further. John Erskine Hankins’s Backgrounds of Shakespeare’s
Thought, a more recent treatment of the philosophical background, relates
the concepts of microcosm and macrocosm, multiple souls, humors, natural
hierarchy, and fallen nature to Shakespeare’s works. The book probably
most recommended and required for intellectual background is E. M. W.
Tillyard’s Elizabethan World Picture. Tillyard clearly explains in this concise
volume some major philosophical concepts of the universe and humanity in
sixteenth-century eyes. The short sections are accessible to student read¬
ers, and the work is handy as a compact reference to concepts frequendy
encountered in Shakespeare. Tillyard allows students to understand his¬
torically both Lear’s assumption that nature is ordered and coherent and the
metaphysical problem of nature in the play. Nonspecialists should be aware,
however, that recent studies have questioned some of the traditional, and
perhaps overly simplistic, views of Tillyard. (See the discussion of back¬
ground works in “The Instructor’s Library” below.)
Another type of work frequendy recommended is the “reader’s com¬
panion.” Some teachers still suggest F. E. Halliday’s A Shakespeare Com¬
panion, a dictionary of Shakespearean matters (plots, characters, acquain¬
tances, contemporaries, editors, scholars, etc.). It is convenient as a
reference work for students. Much more frequendy recommended now,
however, is A New Companion to Shakespeare Studies, edited by Kenneth
Muir and S. Schoenbaum. Unlike Halliday’s work, the New Companion is
primarily a collection of essays by distinguished scholars and critics on
Shakespeare’s life, reading, language, rhetoric, and the like. Essays also
cover such topics as the playhouses and stage, actors and staging, the histori¬
cal and social background, the intellectual background, and textual prob¬
lems. A few essays comment on Shakespeare’s poetry and plays in logical
groups, and two essays survey Shakespeare criticism since Dryden.
 Robert H. Ray 11

One general book on Shakespeare and his works that teachers commend
as particularly appropriate for undergraduates is Roland M. Frye’s Shake¬
speare: The Art of the Dramatist. Frye surveys Shakespeare’s life and work,
types of plays, structure, style, and characterization. One teacher recom¬
mends the book to students specifically because of its “concise introduc¬
tions to types of plays.”
Some instructors require or recommend books that are essentially made
up of separate critical and interpretive essays on individual plays. Teachers
feel, as one respondent says, that “students Peed perspectives on plays other
than the views of the instructor and textbook.” Some of the books frequently
recommended are collections of essays by single authors. Still recom¬
mended by some teachers, for example, is Mark Van Doren’s Shakespeare,
which one respondent calls “an excellent point of departure” for students.
Also suggested is D. A. Traversi’s Approach to Shakespeare, which one
teacher considers “an excellent general reading of King Lear.” Still fre¬
quently recommended, as well, is Harold Goddard’s Meaning of Shake¬
speare. Despite some of its idiosyncratic readings, Goddard’s work is inter¬
esting and stimulates students’ thinking about the plays; they may see it as
representative of the highly “optimistic” interpretation of the play’s
ending.
Other recommended books of essays are anthologies of criticism by dif¬
ferent authors. Often suggested is Shakespeare: Modem Essays in Criticism,
edited by Leonard F. Dean, containing a chapter of John F. Danby’s Shake¬
speare’s Doctrine of Nature: A Study of King Lear (“The Fool and Handy
Dandy”) and J. Stampfer’s essay “The Catharsis of King Lear.” Also com¬
mended is the collection edited by Alvin B. Kernan, entitled Modem
Shakespearean Criticism: Essays on Style, Dramaturgy, and the Major Plays.
This volume reprints a portion of Jan Kott’s Shakespeare Our Contemporary
entitled “King Lear or Endgame.” (See “The Instructor’s Library” for
further discussion of these three works.)
The preceding books were most often cited by teachers in the MLA sur¬
vey as helpful for students to read. Teachers of King Lear require or recom¬
mend that students read or consult many other major scholarly and critical
books and articles. The next section includes studies that are also valuable
for students in certain courses.
12 MATERIALS

The Instructor’s Library

Introduction

Any literature instructor knows that competence to teach Shakespeare re¬

quires close and wide reading, to say nothing of the value of seeing perfor¬
mances. Certainly no one book, or even several, can provide simple
solutions for teaching King Lear. The attempt here is to provide, from the
seemingly endless stream of Shakespeare scholarship and criticism, a selec¬
tion of the works regarded by experienced teachers of King Lear as most
helpful, and even “essential,” especially from a pedagogical standpoint.
Concentration is on essential reference, background, source, theatrical, tex¬
tual, critical, and linguistic works.
Exigencies of space require emphasis on works published in book form,
including, of course, important essays and articles that have appeared in
book-length collections. Many important journal articles have not yet been
incorporated into collections of criticism. Several of the most important and
pertinent ones to the teaching of King Lear are included here, and several
are mentioned in the essays in the second part of the volume; many,
however, necessarily have been omitted. The reader, therefore, is en¬
couraged to pursue bibliographies and reviews of criticism to find the major
journal articles devoted to King Lear and other relevant Shakespearean
topics.
Nonspecialists should become familiar with the major annuals and
periodicals, to keep abreast of books, articles, performances, and other
Shakespearean items of interest. An important annual publication is Shake¬
speare Survey, which, in addition to publishing important essays on Shake¬
speare, reviews relevant criticism, scholarship, and theatrical performances
of the previous year. Another annual, Shakespeare Studies, prints essays and
book reviews. Shakespeare Quarterly publishes critical and scholarly essays
and notes, as well as theater and book reviews. Through 1981, one of this
quarterly’s four issues was “Shakespeare: Annotated World Bibliography,”
the major annual guide to Shakespearean studies for the previous year.
Since 1981, however, the bibliography is published as a fifth issue. Other
journals, such as PMLA, frequently publish articles on Shakespeare. The an¬
nual MLA International Bibliography, of course, lists books and articles on
Shakespeare, with an extensive section each year on King Lear. The Shake¬
speare Newsletter, now published four times a year, is the most effective
means of keeping current on Shakespearean discoveries, publications of
books, and other events of interest to Shakespeareans. One respondent in
the MLA survey indicates the usefulness of its reports on conferences and
its book reviews and advertisements; items published range from the
humorous to the serious. Finally, the Shakespeare on Film Newsletter ap-
 Robert H. Ray 13

pears twice a year, presenting information on and reviews of both film and
videotape productions of Shakespeare’s plays.
The aim in the succeeding pages of this section is to organize, in a way
convenient for the teacher who needs help on Shakespeare and King Lear,
the works most profitably consulted. Extended descriptive and evaluative
summaries generally are not attempted, not only because space is limited
but also because such full descriptions are already available in some of the
bibliographies indicated below (such as Larry Champion’s King Lear: An
Annotated Bibliography and David M. Bergeron’s Shakespeare: A Study
and Research Guide). This section, then, seeks to offer a guide to the most
useful materials. When justified by respondents’ frequent mention (and
extensive discussion), however, more space is devoted to the description of
works uniquely helpful in teaching King Lear.

Reference Works

Modern scholars and editors continue to provide Shakespeare studies with

essential tools for research and teaching. Such works as facsimile and
variorum editions, descriptive bibliographies, compendiums of facts and
documents of Shakespeare’s life and works, dictionaries, concordances,
and reader’s guides enhance the understanding and teaching of King
Lear.
Several instructors consider Charlton Hinman’s The First Folio of Shake¬
speare: The Norton Facsimile a valuable reference tool, especially in the
light of the recent textual controversies regarding King Lear (see Warren s
essay in this volume). Several teachers use the 1880 New Variorum edition
of King Lear by Horace Howard Furness as a reference for checking the
views of earlier scholars and critics.
Bibliographical search in Shakespeare begins, for all practical purposes,
with A Shakespeare Bibliography (1930) and its Supplement for the Years
1930-1935, both by Walther Ebisch, in collaboration with Levin L.
Schiicking. Gordon Ross Smith continued these efforts in A Classified
Shakespeare Bibliography, 1936-1958. The annual bibliographies pub¬
lished by Shakespeare Quarterly, the MLA International Bibliography, and
the Annual Bibliography of English Language and Literature (published by
the Modern Humanities Research Association) must be consulted for
thorough coverage of Shakespearean topics since 1958. One respondent
particularly endorses the bibliography produced by Shakespeare Quar¬
terly, saying that its full annotations give an overview of critical ten¬
dencies.
Other bibliographies on a smaller, selective scale may serve the needs of
many teachers of Shakespeare. All are currendy available in paperback
form. Ronald Berman’s Reader’s Guide to Shakespeare’s Plays: A Discursive
 14 MATERIALS

Bibliography is useful for general reference and as a good place to begin

acquaintance with some major books and articles on individual plays. Ber¬
man groups works under the following divisions: text, editions, sources,
criticism, staging, and bibliography. The selection and annotation of works
on King Lear are generally descriptive and sensible. One respondent in
the survey noted that the bibliography, revised in 1973, is “now a bit
dated.” Other teachers prefer Shakespeare: Select Bibliographical Guides,
edited by Stanley Wells, also published in 1973. Several recommend this
volume for an overview of scholarship and criticism on King Lear; Kenneth
Muir writes the section on Lear. Wells includes other discursive biblio¬
graphical essays on plays, groups of plays, poems, and topics such as text
and theater. David M. Bergeron’s Shakespeare: A Study and Research
Guide is also regarded as an effective beginning in Shakespeare criticism.
Bergeron, in fact, directs his book to the “student or general reader begin¬
ning a serious study of Shakespeare’s works” (Preface). After surveying
Shakespeare criticism chronologically and by type, Bergeron turns to the
larger matter of guiding one to the available resources. In contrast to some
other bibliographies, Bergeron devotes his space almost exclusively to
books, allowing somewhat fuller descriptions of the selected books than
would otherwise be possible; he also includes a final section on preparing a
research paper on a Shakespearean topic. A more inclusive (but unan¬
notated) bibliography is available in A Selective Bibliography of Shake¬
speare: Editions, Textual Studies, Commentary by James G. McManaway
and Jeanne Addison Roberts. Also referred to by several teachers as useful
is David Bevington’s Shakespeare in the Goldentree series of bibliogra¬
phies.
The preceding bibliographies serve scholars, critics, and teachers in¬
terested in any play by Shakespeare. But for those interested primarily in
King Lear, special mention must be made of Larry S. Champion’s recent
two-volume King Lear: An Annotated Bibliography, in the Garland series of
Shakespeare bibliographies, which has been enthusiastically welcomed by
teachers of the play. Although the work is rather expensive for private
ownership, university libraries should acquire it. Books and articles pub¬
lished between 1940 and approximately 1979 are comprehensively
covered, with some exceptional earlier works also included. Volume 1 lists
and annotates criticism chronologically. Volume 2 does the same in
separate sections for studies comprehending sources; dating; text; bibliog¬
raphies, editions; stage history; and adaptations, influence, and synopses.
For a teacher wishing an overview of and a guide to criticism of King Lear
within the period covered, the work is excellent. Champion’s annotations
are objective and descriptive. The possibilities for stimulating and guiding
student research on the play are significantly increased by such a ref¬
erence tool.
 Robert H. Ray 15

Biographical and documentary research has created several truly signifi¬

cant reference works in the twentieth century. Even though later scholar¬
ship has added bits of information, William Shakespeare: A Study of Facts
and Problems by E. K. Chambers has not been surpassed in comprehen¬
siveness. It is at once a biography and a reference tool, with an impressive
collection of records on Shakespeare’s life, stage, and theater company. A
valuable contribution in the same vein is S. Schoenbaum’s William Shake¬
speare: A Documentary Life, which ties large facsimiles of major docu¬
ments to a factual narrative of Shakespeare’s life. In William Shakespeare:
Records and Images, a later, supplementary work of similar size and format,
Schoenbaum reproduces additional documents such as signatures (both
authentic and spurious), portraits (both genuine and doubtful), and legal
records. Teachers indicate that they not only read and reread these books
but also frequendy refer students to them. Another of Schoenbaum’s works
frequendy employed for purposes of reference is the entertaining Shake¬
speare’s Lives, in which he surveys the Shakespearean myths and legends
accumulated over the centuries, as well as the scholarly and critical
perspectives of various groups from the seventeenth to the twentieth
century.
Linguistic aids begin with the Oxford English Dictionary: teachers in the
survey mention consulting it and directing students to it more often than
they do any other reference work. The difficulty of words and phrases in
King Lear indeed calls for such a tool. Available also are Alexander
Schmidt’s Shakespeare-Lexicon and C. T. Onions’s Shakespeare Glossary.
Several teachers report receiving from Eric Partridge’s Shakespeare’s
Bawdy specialized information to supplement the explanatory notes in
editions that overlook many bawdy words and phrases.
Many instructors consult works that help one recognize sayings and
allusions significant in Shakespeare and his contemporaries. Such a ref¬
erence tool is Morris Palmer Tilley’s Dictionary of the Proverbs in England
in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. A valuable supplement to Tilley
is R. W. Dent’s Shakespeare’s Proverbial Language: An Index, which revises
and expands Tilley’s “Shakespeare Index,” considering discoveries made
since the publication of Tilley’s work. It is, in fact, for one interested only in
Shakespeare’s works, a self-contained, up-to-date tool that essentially su¬
persedes Tilley. Extremely important for understanding Shakespeare’s
knowledge and use of the Bible is a facsimile of a version frequendy used
by Shakespeare himself, The Geneva Bible: A Facsimile of the 1560 Edition
(with an introduction by Lloyd E. Berry). The Protestant translators wrote
a marginal gloss that also is important to Shakespeare’s perception of bibli¬
cal interpretation by contemporaries. Biblical echoes in King Lear may be
compared to their sources in this version.
One of the tools most employed by teachers is Marvin Spevack s Har-
16 MATERIALS

card Concordance to Shakespeare. For tracing recurring words, phrases,

and images, it is indispensable. One instructor mentions bringing it to class
when teaching King Lear and pursuing particular words in the play.
Spevack lists all words that appear in Shakespeare, quotes all lines in which
they occur, and provides act, scene, and line references to The Riverside
Shakespeare (ed. Evans).
Two other works that may be classified as handbooks or guides to Shake¬
speare are considered of great help to an instructor. The Reader’s En¬
cyclopedia of Shakespeare, edited by Oscar James Campbell and Edward
G. Quinn, employs alphabetical entries with convenient summaries of
source material, dating, stage history, and criticism. One instructor feels
that it gives a “fine overview of scholarly and critical matters pertaining to
King Lear.” More recent is the respected Guide to Shakespeare by David
M. Zesmer. Early chapters concern Shakespeare in the Elizabethan con¬
text and the matters of text, chronology, and sources. The remaining chap¬
ters cover Shakespeare’s works; King Lear is grouped with Othello and
Macbeth.

Background Studies

Several books reveal Shakespeare in the context of his time and place. Muir
and Schoenbaum’s New Companion to Shakespeare Studies (discussed
above as recommended to students) contains chapters on the historical, so¬
cial, and intellectual background that respondents applaud as excellent for
a teacher of King Lear. The contemporary descriptions in Life in Shake¬
speare’s Englandl: A Rook of Elizabethan Prose, edited by John Dover
Wilson, give an immediate sense of the times. General historical, political,
and social accounts are found in S. T. Bindoff’s Tudor England, G. R.
Elton’s England under the Tudors, and A. L. Rowse’s The England of
Elizabeth: The Structure of Society. A book emphasizing political and social
structure, philosophical assumptions, and literature of the Elizabethan and
Jacobean age is B. L. Joseph’s Shakespeare’s Eden: The Commonwealth of
England 1558-1629, which contains many references to the play, includ¬
ing a discussion (28-32) particularly relevant to teachers of King Lear: an
application of social history to some comments and events in the play, il¬
luminating, for example, the implications in “bandy looks” of I.iv. One of
the most elaborate works is Lacey Baldwin Smith’s Elizabethan World, es¬
pecially in its reprinted form as The Horizon Book of the Elizabethan World.
This latter version contains beautiful illustrations, as well as an interesting
text. G. P. V. Akrigg’s Jacobean Pageant: Or, The Court of King James I pro¬
vides a good account of Jacobean England; one respondent comments that
it is particularly appropriate background for King Lear, because it conveys
a sense of the “prevailing corruption” of the time.
 Robert H. Ray 17

More specific and fuller discussions of the social, economic, and cultural
conditions and assumptions of Shakespeare’s time appear in several works,
including Muriel St. Clare Byrne’s Elizabethan Life in Town and Country,
Louis B. Wright’s Middle-Class Culture in Elizabethan England, and Law¬
rence Stone’s The Family, Sex and Marriage in England, 1500-1800.
Stone s Crisis of the Aristocracy: 1558-1641, a book particularly valuable
for instructors of King Lear, portrays a realistic view of courtly life and
answers such questions as why a king would have one hundred men in
his following.
One respondent in the MLA survey comments, “A teacher of King Lear
should be able to talk about the social snobbery of Elizabethans of all
classes and their hostility toward such social climbers as Oswald.” Several
of the books just noted aid in that task. In addition, two books by Ruth Kelso
help one to understand courtliness and chivalry in general: The Doctrine of
the English Gentleman in the Sixteenth Century and Doctrine for the Lady
of the Renaissance.
The philosophical background is discussed in several well-respected
works. Hardin Craig’s Enchanted Glass: The Elizabethan Mind in Litera¬
ture treats Renaissance cosmology, hierarchy, and intellect. A more
elaborate and demanding investigation of the concepts of hierarchy and
nature is found in Arthur O. Lovejoy’s now-classic The Great Chain of
Being: A Study of the History of an Idea. The value of Theodore Spencer’s
Shakespeare and the Nature of Man and E. M. W. Tillyard’s Elizabethan
World Picture for student reading already has been noted, but even more
respondents in the survey recommend them for the teacher’s background
than for the student’s. One instructor says, “Tillyard’s study is essential for
all Shakespeare teachers.” Two books that help explain the skeptical tradi¬
tion emerging at the time King Lear was written are Hiram Haydn’s
Counter-Renaissance and Sukanta Chaudhuri’s Infirm Glory: Shakespeare
and the Renaissance Image of Man.
The traditional historical and philosophical views of Craig, Lovejoy, and
Tillyard have been modified and corrected by several scholars and critics
of the last twenty-five years. Ernest William Talbert’s Problem of Order:
Elizabethan Political Commonplaces and an Example of Shakespeare’s Art
endorses the Elizabethan world picture but reminds us that we also must
consider the more specific pictures of various states, including that of
Elizabethan England. Henry Ansgar Kelly’s Divine Providence in the En¬
gland of Shakespeare’s Histories, although not direcdy concerned with
King Lear, greatly changes our traditional concepts of what providential
direction meant to Shakespeare’s audience. Instead of emphasizing com¬
fortable answers from an ordered cosmos, Joel B. Altman (The Tudor Play
of Mind: Rhetorical Inquiry and the Development of Elizabethan Drama)
finds questioning and debate central in sixteenth-century literature, in-
18 MATERIALS

eluding Shakespeare’s works. In Renaissance Self-Fashioning: From More to

Shakespeare Stephen Greenblatt examines the reaction of the individual to
certain cultural phenomena (especially specific forms of authority) in
order to fashion the “self ” of both the writer and his characters. An article
by Louis Adrian Montrose proposes that the theater was a means of
recognizing and accepting social conflict: the stage purposefully reflected
the social world. The effect of a ruler’s public nature on the theater is ex¬
plored by Jonathan Goldberg, briefly in a 1981 essay in Research Oppor¬
tunities in Renaissance Drama and more fully in his James l and the Politics
of Literature: Jonson, Shakespeare, Donne, and Their Contemporaries.
Goldberg notes the ruler’s essential lack of privacy and how dramatists
reflect this role in art. Like kings, dramatists concern themselves with the
relation between inner and external being, and they represent (or, in
Goldberg’s terms, “re-present”) private, royal lives in public form.
The instructor of King Lear also needs some understanding of the
traditions of folly and the Renaissance fool or jester. Enid Welsford’s
seminal The Fool: His Social and Literary History not only reports com¬
prehensively on the tradition itself but also illuminates the role of the Fool
in the play and particularly the notion of wise foolishness. The place to pur¬
sue this matter further is Robert Hillis Goldsmith’s Wise Fools in Shake¬
speare. Also important is an article in which Carolyn S. French provides
theological background on wise men and fools.
Some scholarly studies focus on Shakespeare in the context of other
medieval and Renaissance artistic, dramatic, and literary traditions. Me¬
dieval values in Shakespeare and his indebtedness to early dramatic fonns
are a part of Willard Farnham’s Medieval Heritage of Elizabethan Tragedy.
Of value, too, is Farnham’s Shakespearean Grotesque: Its Genesis and
Transformations. M. C. Bradbrook’s Themes and Conventions of Eliz¬
abethan Tragedy and Madeleine Doran’s Endeavors of Art: A Study of Form
in Elizabethan Drama allow us to see King Lear in the context of earlier
tragedy. Shakespeare as seen from the perspective of the values held by
Elizabethan and Jacobean audiences is the focus of both Alfred Harbage’s
As They Liked It: An Essay on Shakespeare and Morality and Robert
Ornstein’s Moral Vision of Jacobean Tragedy. Omstein’s discussion of King
Lear is helpful in relating the play to Machiavellian concepts.
A study of Shakespeare’s learning, poetics, and theology in relation to
King Lear is best begun with Virgil K. Whitaker’s Shakespeare’s Use of
Learning: An Inquiry into the Growth of His Mind and Art and continued
with Russell A. Fraser’s Shakespeare’s Poetics in Relation to King Lear.
Fraser surveys Shakespeare’s use of such concepts as providence, fortune,
reason, will, and redemption and relates them to emblems and icon¬
ography. Several plates illustrating important emblems are included in the
volume, and Fraser shows how Shakespeare’s poetics in King Lear are
 Robert H. Ray 19

based on such symbols and metaphors common to the Renaissance mind.

The importance of both religion and biblical knowledge to Shakespeare
and his age is emphasized in Peter Milward’s Shakespeare’s Religious Back¬
ground and Biblical Themes in Shakespeare: Centring on King Lear. For
what one respondent calls “the contrary view” of Shakespeare’s use of
Christianity and for opposition to a Christian reading of King Lear, the
teacher might wish to read Roland Mushat Frye’s Shakespeare and Chris¬
tian Doctrine.

Source Studies

Teachers responding to the MLA survey overwhelmingly recommend one

major work in order to study the sources of King Lear: volume 7 of Geof¬
frey Bullough’s Narrative and Dramatic Sources of Shakespeare (267-420).
Bullough prints the major known sources for the play, some designated as
definite sources and others as probable and possible ones. He also provides
an extensive introduction commenting on the sources and Shakespeare’s
means of adapting them for his dramatic purposes. One instructor says,
“Bullough’s collection of the materials of source-criticism is best because
fullest.” Another notes that Bullough leaves litde to be said. Several
teachers indicate that they assign to students some of Bullough’s material,
especially major passages of The True Chronicle Historie of King Leir, so
that the students can appreciate the remarkable improvements made by
Shakespeare. One instructor points out that some of the sources may have
provoked the skepticism in Shakespeare’s play.
Kenneth Muir studies the sources for King Lear in “Samuel Harsnett and
King Lear,” Shakespeare’s Sources: Comedies and Tragedies, and The Sourc¬
es of Shakespeare’s Plays. (For further studies of sources and for ways to
use them in teaching the play, see the essay by Vincent F. Petronella in part
2.)

Theatrical Studies

Scholarship and criticism concerned with such matters as the types and
construction of theaters and stages in Shakespeare’s time, actors and act¬
ing, audiences, and stage representation and performance are vital in
teaching Shakespeare. Lively discussions and scholarly disagreements
about these matters permeate the study of Shakespeare today, and one
cannot answer students’ questions or teach the play without some basic
knowledge of these topics.
To see the continuity and development of stages and staging from the
Middle Ages through Shakespeare, one best begins with Glynne Wick¬
ham’s three-volume Early English Stages, 1300-1660, which treats the
20 MATERIALS

medieval stage traditions inherited by Shakespeare. A more explicit study

of the stage in Shakespeare’s time is E. K. Chambers’s four-volume The
Elizabethan Stage. Chambers collects detailed material on the various
kinds of theaters, theater companies, modes of presentation, actors, and
other figures associated with the drama of the time. Various conjectural
renderings of the structure of the Globe Playhouse have demanded atten¬
tion in the twentieth century and are still the subjects of heated debates.
John Cranford Adams’s The Globe Playhouse: Its Design and Equipment
and Irwin Smith’s Shakespeare’s Globe Playhouse: A Modem Reconstruc¬
tion in Text and Scale Drawings represent what has become known as the
older or traditional view, which is now challenged on many points. C.
Walter Hodges in The Globe Restored: A Study of the Elizabethan Theatre
points out unresolved problems about the construction and argues for a
simpler playhouse and stage. Richard Hosley’s essays over many years con¬
stitute a major corrective to the older views. Of greatest value for teachers
is his easily accessible “The Playhouses and the Stage,” in which he con¬
cisely presents the major types of theaters and stages of the time, with
appropriate sketches, and alerts one to the controversial areas of the dis¬
covery space, the upper station, and the music room; in the process, he em¬
phatically discredits the existence of an inner stage. For the indoor
playhouse used by Shakespeare’s company, the teacher may wish to con¬
sult Irwin Smith’s Shakespeare’s Blackfriars Playhouse: Its History and
Its Design.
Useful studies of acting in Shakespeare’s time and since are Bertram L.
Joseph’s Elizabethan Acting and Acting Shakespeare. Arthur Colby
Sprague’s Shakespeare and the Actors: The Stage Business in His Plays
(1660-1905) is helpful on both stage history and acting.
A small book that is valuable for answering student questions about the
types of people attending plays, the prices of admission, and the size of
crowds is Alfred Harbage’s Shakespeare’s Audience. Harbage’s work should
be supplemented, however, by Ann Jennalie Cook’s Privileged Playgoers of
Shakespeare’s London, 1576-1642 and Michael Hattaway’s Elizabethan
Popular Theatre: Plays in Performance. Andrew Gurr’s Shakespearean
Stage, 1574-1642 also examines the audience but, in addition, covers mat¬
ters of companies, actors, theaters, and stages. Similar concerns appear in
Bernard Beckerman’s earlier Shakespeare at the Globe, 1599-1609, but
Beckerman stricdy limits himself to production at the Globe during
Shakespeare’s career there. Beckerman generally is a follower of Hodges,
as far as construction is concerned. For further study of historical staging, of
how King Lear and other plays would have been presented at the Globe
and elsewhere, T. J. King’s Shakespearean Staging, 1599-1642 fills in
details. An older work still regarded as important in the study of staging is
Harley Granville-Barker s essay on the play in his Prefaces to Shakespeare.
 Robert H. Ray 21

One respondent comments on its “insights into stage production,” and

another says that it is very good on the staging of certain scenes in King
Lear. Several teachers also recommend familiarity with Charles Lamb’s
1811 essay “On the Tragedies of Shakspeare, Considered with Reference
to Their Fitness for Stage Representation, which provides an awareness of
Lamb s antistage prejudice and his famous comments on King Lear. One
teacher makes the following interesting observations about Lamb’s
work:

Curiously, this essay, which purports to tell men of the theatre that
Lear is unsuitable for the theatre, has had more influence on actual
productions than any other. I give a course on the history of Shake¬
spearean criticism and therefore feel entitled to say that this is the
best essay ever written on the play.

One of the most significant developments in Shakespeare scholarship,

criticism, and teaching in the past two decades is the reinvigorated em¬
phasis on Shakespeare’s plays as plays and, consequendy, on the theatrical,
or performance, approach to them. The potential effects on the classroom
study of King Lear are significant. Influential in this general movement is
John Russell Brown’s Shakespeare's Plays in Performance. One teacher
calls it a “lively entry to the topic of performance.” Also seminal in this ap¬
proach to Shakespeare is J. L. Styan’s Shakespeare’s Stagecraft, which one
respondent says is “indispensable for an understanding of Shakespeare’s
dramatic skills.” Another contribution in this area is Styan’s Shakespeare
Revolution: Criticism and Performance in the Twentieth Century. (Styan il¬
lustrates the performance approach in teaching King Lear in part 2 of the
present volume.)
Among other studies concerned with related theatrical matters, Marvin
Rosenberg’s The Masks of King Lear was frequently mentioned. Theatrical
history of the play is one of Rosenberg’s interests. A respondent says that
the book “gives a good sense of how Lear has been altered in production
and what problems such alteration causes, thereby helping us to know
Shakespeare’s play better by contrast.” William H. Matchett’s essay “Some
Dramatic Techniques in King Lear’ appears in the volume Shakespeare:
The Theatrical Dimension. Dramatic technique and structure also are em¬
phasized in James E. Hirsh’s Structure of Shakespearean Scenes, in which
portions are devoted to King Lear. (Hirsh illustrates a way of teaching the
play through dramatic structure in part 2 of the present volume.)

Textual Studies

Advances in analytical bibliography in the twentieth century have been

great indeed, and their effects on the study of Shakespeare must be faced
22 MATERIALS

by teachers. This is nowhere truer than in the case of King Lear, currently
the subject of a textual controversy. To many instructors, such examination
of the intricacies of original texts remains a mystery. But other respondents
to the MLA survey indicate key studies that offer immediate help to
teachers, particularly for matters pertinent to the texts of King Lear.
Several works of varying length provide the novice in bibliographical
study a good start. Frequently mentioned by instructors as the first one for
the teacher of any Shakespearean play is G. Blakemore Evans’s essay
“Shakespeare’s Text” in The Riverside Shakespeare (discussed above in the
section on editions). For fuller understanding of the printing process
behind Renaissance texts, the serious beginner in the general field of
analytical bibliography should study carefully Philip Gaskell’s New In¬
troduction to Bibliography. W. W. Greg focuses more explicitly on Shake¬
speare’s works in The Editorial Problem in Shakespeare: A Survey of the
Foundations of the Text. Also of great value is Fredson Bowers’s On Editing
Shakespeare. To pursue the matter of the First Folio texts, the teacher, after
having acquired some background in analytical bibliography, may wish to
examine Charlton Hinman’s technical, two-volume The Printing and Proof-
Reading of the First Folio of Shakespeare, one of the most influential con¬
tributions in the history of textual studies. Hinman also gives helpful ex¬
planations (easily understood by the student and nonspecialist teacher) in
his facsimile edition The First Folio of Shakespeare: The Norton Facsimile,
which is the best place for a teacher to examine one of the two major ver¬
sions of King Lear in existence. For the other major version, the best re¬
production is found in the recent work, edited by Michael J. B. Allen and
Kenneth Muir, entitled Shakespeare’s Plays in Quarto: A Facsimile Edition
of Copies Primarily from the Henry E. Huntington Library.
Several respondents in the survey feel that some available editions and
studies from 1949 to 1960 still illuminate the text of King Lear, despite new
knowledge and recent arguments. For textual questions, these teachers
consult Shakespeare s King Lear: A Critical Edition, edited by George Ian
Duthie; King Lear in the Arden series, edited by Kenneth Muir; Alice
Walker’s Textual Probhms of the First Folio; and King Lear in the Cam¬
bridge Shakespeare series, editied by George Ian Duthie and John
Dover Wilson.
The current controversy over the two Lears, or the first quarto and First
Folio versions, is best approached with a reading of Michael J. Warren’s
“Quarto and Folio King Lear and the Interpretation of Albany and Edgar.”
Similarly important is Gary Taylor’s 1980 essay “The War in King Lear.”
Also in 1980 appeared two important books valuable for any teacher of the
play but perhaps best understood by those with some textual background:
P.W.K. Stone’s Textual History of King Lear and Steven Urkowitz’s Shake-
 Robert H. Ray 23

speare’s Revision of King Lear. Stone argues that the quarto Lear is a
pirated version made from a report of performances and that the Folio
derives from it. Urkowitz, however, contends that Shakespeare himself
revised the play to achieve different theatrical effects and charac¬
terizations. One instructor comments that Urkowitz “sensitizes the teacher
to the textual problems and also is brilliantly responsive to the drama¬
turgy.” Also recommended is Peter W. M. Blayney’s The Texts of King Lear
and Their Origins: volume 1, Nicholas Okes and the First Quarto, was
published in 1982, and volume 2 is forthcoming. Blayney’s work is a
thorough study of the actual process of printing the texts. A collection of
essays entitled The Division of the Kingdoms: Shakespeare's Two Versions of
King Lear, edited by Gary Taylor and Michael Warren, is more easily read
and more directly relevant to a teacher of the play than are some of the
technical studies cited above. (For further information on the textual puz¬
zles and controversy, see Michael Warren’s essay in part 2. Warren explains
the textual problem and adapts it to a teaching of the play.)

Critical and Linguistic Studies

Some editions, such as Bevington’s, survey criticism of Shakespeare from

his time to the present. For the period from 1623 to 1801, however, the
best survey (with excerpts reproduced) is the six-volume Shakespeare: The
Critical Heritage, edited by Brian Vickers. Also highly commended as
older, classic criticism are Samuel Johnson’s preface and notes to his 1765
edition of Shakespeare. One teacher indicates that Johnson’s comments on
King Lear stimulate students to consider alternative endings and the idea
of poetic justice.
Three collections of critical excerpts and essays on King Lear are par¬
ticularly noteworthy. The one most often suggested by respondents is
Twentieth Century Interpretations of King Lear, edited by Janet Adelman,
which contains convenient excerpts from such critics as Bradley, Knight,
Danby, and Mack. Stephen Booth’s “On the Greatness of King Lear” is an
original contribution to the volume. The excerpts and essays total sixteen.
In addition, Adelman writes an introduction that is excellent in itself, es¬
pecially on Edgar’s role in the play. Some Facets of King Lear: Essays in
Prismatic Criticism, edited by Rosalie L. Colie and F. T. Flahiff, contains
twelve essays, only one of which had already appeared in print. Among
these essays are Sheldon P. Zitner’s “King Lear and Its Language” and
Bridget Gellert Lyons’s “The Subplot as Simplification in King Lear.” Law¬
rence Danson is editor of On King Lear, a collection of essays viewing King
Lear as history, theater, and poetry, among other perspectives. Eight es-
24 MATERIALS

says, including “ "Nothing Almost Sees Miracles’: Tragic Knowledge in King

Lear” by Thomas P. Roche, Jr., make up the volume.
The MLA survey reveals that ten critical books concerning King Lear, in
whole or in part, are most mentioned as helpful in understanding and
teaching the play. All have been published in the present century (from
1904 to 1974). The earliest is that modern classic of Shakespeare criticism,
A. C. Bradley’s Shakespearean Tragedy. Instructors cite Bradley for the
“traditional view of ideas and characters” and say that his work “continues
to be helpful.” For many, however, the place to begin in modern criticism
of King Lear is G. Wilson Knight’s Wheel of Fire: Interpretations of Shake¬
spearean Tragedy, first published in 1930. One teacher recommends it for
its treatment of “religion and naturalism” in the play, and another notes
that Knight “makes King Lear into the poem it must be.” Knight’s influen¬
tial views on the poetry and imagery of Shakespeare are felt greatly in
Robert Bechtold Heilman’s This Great Stage: Image and Structure in King
Lear, which one teacher calls “probably the best book on King Lear.”
Other accolades are “still best for imagery” and “clarifies major issues.”
The philosophical perspective on the play appears in John F. Danby’s
Shakespeare’s Doctrine of Nature: A Study of King Lear. As one instructor
says, “Danby notes the tug between malevolence and benevolence in
Shakespeare’s world view.” The study delineates the two definitions of na¬
ture in the play and the contest between them. Edmund is seen as the new
man, the precursor of the new age. Danby also aids in understanding
the Fool.
Another of the most frequendy mentioned books is Jan Kott’s Shake¬
speare Our Contemporary, a controversial volume from its publication in
1961 to the present. It is variously described by respondents as “nihilis¬
tic,” “absurdist,” and "‘existential.’’ Other representative comments are
“read it for abrasive value,” “a politicized approach,” and “a myopic mis¬
reading of King Lear.” An answer and a corrective to Kott’s work is
Maynard Mack’s King Lear in Our Time, which one teacher calls “the best
little book on King Lear,” full of information that can be used in class to
direct students to major issues of interpretation. Another notes that it helps
one relate the play to a modern audience. Appearing in 1966, a year after
Mack’s book, is the study more teachers called “essential” than any other:
William R. Elton’s King Lear and the Gods, praised for its elucidation of in¬
tellectual background and religious issues and its explanations of the
significance of particular phrases. Another respected work in the same
decade is Paul A. Jorgensen s Lear s Self-Discovery, which emphasizes
knowledge, self-knowledge, and the tragedy as a learning experience.
The final two of the ten most noted books appeared in the 1970s. Marvin
Rosenberg s The Masks of King Lear has been discussed above for its im¬
portance as a theatrical study. As one instructor notes, however, “This book
 Robert H. Ray 25

is a brilliant combination of theatrical history and criticism: it gives the in¬

terpretative spectrum for every moment in the play.” Another finds Rosen¬
berg s book “the most useful one on the play because it is so full of informa¬
tion about possible interpretations.” Its thorough scene-by-scene commen¬
tary and its criticism of Danby’s two definitions of nature are also valued by
some teachers. S. L. Goldberg’s Essay on King Lear is a tightly constructed
study that covers the minor characters better than most other books do.
Several other books are useful for studying special facets of the play.
Some teachers prefer to focus on the plot of King Lear. Lily B. Campbell’s
Shakespeare s Tragic Heroes: Slaves of Passion emphasizes character and
emotion, but one teacher finds the chapter on Lear an effective way to
analyze its plot. Campbell’s pattern of pride, anger, revenge, shame, and
reconciliation provides the method. For the purpose and meaning of the
double plot in Lear, Richard Levin’s Multiple Plot in English Renaissance
Drama is excellent. A useful essay on Shakespeare’s reason for combining
the two plots is Bridget Gellert Lyons’s “The Subplot as Simplification in
King Lear.”
Other teachers are interested in character study, most of which begins
with Bradley’s work cited above. However, Richard B. Sewall’s Vision of
Tragedy expands character into larger contexts and treats Lear along with
Job and other tragic characters. One respondent comments, “Sewall’s work
helps a teacher understand and explain to students how one sympathizes
with a rash, egotistical, pompous old man as a tragic figure.” An excellent
article on one character is Leo Kirschbaum’s “Albany,” which one teacher
calls “the best study in character development that I have come across.” A
fine essay treating Edgar’s deception of Gloucester is Alvin Kernan’s “For¬
malism and Realism in Elizabethan Drama: The Miracles in King Lear.”
The problem of whether Edgar’s deception of his father by a false vision
and miracle is morally legitimate frequently concerns teachers and stu¬
dents. Further help in dealing with it is found in Philip Edwards’s “Shake¬
speare and the Healing Power of Deceit.” Teachers also refer to Michael
Goldman’s Shakespeare and the Energies of Drama for his discussion of
Edgar.
Much of the twentieth century’s contribution to Shakespeare criticism
depends on seeing the plays as poems with important motifs or patterns of
imagery. The importance of Knight and Heilman in this movement has
been noted above. Caroline F. E. Spurgeon’s Shakespeare’s Imagery and
What It Tells Us is useful in listing and cataloging images. Her work has
been developed further in such studies as W. H. Clemen’s Development of
Shakespeare’s Imagery and Donald A. Stauffer’s Shakespeare’s World of Im¬
ages: The Development of His Moral Ideas. Imagery is also crucial to the in¬
terpretation of King Lear in Sigurd Burckhardt’s Shakespearean Meanings.
One of the play’s most important patterns of imagery is the subject of Paul
26 MATERIALS

J. Alpers’s “King Lear and the Theory of the Sight Pattern. ”’ In addition to
verbal imagery, the importance of stage imagery appears in Maurice Char-
ney’s “‘We Put Fresh Garments on Him’: Nakedness and Clothes in King
Leary The stripping of clothing points to moral progression.
One critical approach easily and effectively adapted to the classroom is
that of Lear’s self-knowledge. The importance of Jorgensen’s book has
already been mentioned. Also frequently cited as helpful for its discussion
of Lear is Irving Ribner’s Patterns in Shakespearian Tragedy. Ribner traces
a pattern of self-knowledge, penance, and expiation that leads to regenera¬
tion. Similarly valuable on the self-knowledge theme is Manfred
Weidhorn’s “Lear’s Schoolmasters.” Related to self-knowledge is a char¬
acter’s role-playing as a means of identity. This critical approach to King
Lear appears most notably in Thomas F. Van Laan’s “Acting as Action in
King Lear” and Role-Playing in Shakespeare.
A recent critical approach to Shakespeare fuses the psychoanalytic with
the familial. King Lear from the perspective of marriage, family, and the
father-daughter relationship has been an important part of this critical
movement. Marianne Novy’s “Patriarchy, Mutuality, and Forgiveness in
King Lear ’ focuses on the tragic violation of father-daughter mutuality in a
patriarchal society and explores the play from the perspective of feminist
criticism. C. L. Barber’s “The Family in Shakespeare’s Development:
Tragedy and Sacredness’’ is a psychoanalytic study of how, in the tragedies,
Shakespeare places the masculine identity crisis in a filial context and, in
turn, how he relates this context to Christian rites of passage and cere¬
mony. Lynda E. Boose in “The Father and the Bride in Shakespeare” illus¬
trates how Shakespeare, in many plays, evokes the altar tableau of the
marriage ceremony and depicts the tragic consequences of either the
father’s or the daughter’s refusal to submit to such a ritual severance. (In
part 2 of the present volume, Boose translates her views into a technique
for teaching King Lear.)
Certainly a critical crux of King Lear is its metaphysical vision, usually
described by critics as one of “optimism” or “pessimism.” The problem of
interpreting the end of the play is a vital part of this crux. It is not surprising
that many books and articles argue positions that frequently are diamet¬
rically opposed. Respondents in the survey indicate which works seem
most pertinent to the debate, and those are reported here. The individual
teacher, of course, must make the ultimate decision on whether to stand
with one school of critics or to present both sides to students.
A study of works that tend toward a generally optimistic view, especially
of the ending, should begin with A. C. Bradley’s Shakespearean Tragedy,
which finds a note of spiritual regeneration in Lear’s experience. G. Wilson
Knight in The Wheel of Fire sees some of the less solemn aspects of the play
in the light of grotesque humor. He also regards Lear’s suffering as a purg-
 Robert H. Ray 27

mg that leads to peace, humility, and love. Harold Goddard’s reading of the
play in The Meaning of Shakespeare develops the purgative emphasis even
further and argues that Lear’s final vision of Cordelia is an optimistic one
that transcends physical death. Geoffrey Bush’s Shakespeare and the
Natural Condition emphasizes the failure of Renaissance “natural philo¬
sophy to support humanity’s ultimate emotions, spirit, and faith and sees a
redemption from “distress” occurring in the play. In On the Design of
Shakespearian Tragedy, Harold S. Wilson emphasizes the “imaginative,
poetic pattern of the play and sees Lear as a great representative of
human love at the end. A Christian approach to Lear is found in Roy W.
Battenhouse’s Shakespearean Tragedy: Its Art and Its Christian Premises.
Battenhouse notes the many biblical echoes and allusions in the play and
also interprets the deaths of both Gloucester and Lear affirmatively:
Gloucester dies smiling, after gaining insights into life; Lear dies not
deceived in thinking Cordelia lives, but with an insight suggesting faith.
Hugh L. Hennedy in “King Lear: Recognizing the Ending” also interprets
the deaths of Gloucester and Lear optimistically, stressing the series of
miracles and recognitions in the play and the fact that Lear envisions Cor¬
delia living spiritually. Joseph Wittreich’s recent “Image of that horror”:
History, Prophecy, and Apocalypse in King Lear discusses the play in its
Christian and apocalyptic contexts but sees it as neither overly optimistic
or pessimistic. Wittreich emphasizes the inevitability of its ending, one
prepared for by the bleakness of the world of the play, but one that can
teach humanity possibilities for reformation.
Certain books and articles written from 1949 to 1979 best represent the
harsher metaphysical view. John F. Danby’s Shakespeare’s Doctrine of Na¬
ture points out the malevolence that balances the benevolence in Shake¬
speare’s vision in the play. For an existential reading, Jan Kott’s Shake¬
speare Our Contemporary should be consulted. Perhaps the negative view
of the Lear universe is most effectively delineated in William R. Elton’s
King Lear and the Gods. An earlier voice arguing against interpreting
Lear’s regeneration as Christian is Sylvan Barnet’s in “Some Limitations of
a Christian Approach to Shakespeare.” The harshness of the universe por¬
trayed in the play is also noted by L. C. Knights in Some Shakespearean
Themes, even though love moderates this harshness. J. Stampfer in “The
Catharsis of King Lear” regards the end of the play as the greatest problem
in its interpretation and argues that Lear dies unreconciled in a universe
without reason. Nicholas Brooke endorses the same generally nihilistic
view in “The Ending of King Lear,” a study that praises Shakespeare for his
ideal presentation of negation. Another work that describes a morally ab¬
surd universe in Lear is Harold Skulsky’s “King Lear and the Meaning of
Chaos.” Other studies that teachers mention as helpful in examining the
metaphysical view and the ending of the play are Robert H. West’s Shake-
28 MATERIALS

speare and the Outer Mystery, Phyllis Rackin’s “Delusion as Resolution in

King Lear,” and Rene E. Fortin’s “Hermeneutical Circularity and Christian
Interpretations of King Lear.” (For more on the problem of the ending and
for a method of using it in the classroom, see the essay by David L. Kranz in
part 2 below.)
Other twentieth-century books and articles were less frequendy men¬
tioned by respondents in the survey, but certain teachers find them valu¬
able for solving a variety of critical problems. A few teachers cite Barbara
Everett’s “New King Lear” as valuable for its challenge to Danby’s views.
Northrop Frye’s Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays is praised as the best in¬
troduction to archetypal criticism, which the teacher may, in turn, apply to
King Lear. Rosalie L. Colie’s Shakespeare’s Living Art is useful in helping
one “come to terms with the complexity of tones in the play,” as one re¬
spondent says. Other studies (published from 1933 to 1978) are Elmer
Edgar Stoll’s Art and Artifice in Shakespeare: A Study in Dramatic Contrast
and Illusion, George R. Kernodle’s “Symphonic Form of King Lear,”
Willard Farnham’s Shakespeare’s Tragic Frontier: The World of His Final
Tragedies, William Rosen’s Shakespeare and the Crafl of Tragedy, John
Holloway’s Story of the Night: Studies in Shakespeare’s Major Tragedies,
Norman N. Holland’s Psychoanalysis and Shakespeare, Stanley Cavell’s
Avoidance of Love: A Reading of King Lear,” Preston Thomas Roberts’s
Redemption of King Lear,” Richard Fly’s Shakespeare’s Mediated World,
and Edward Pechter’s “On the Blinding of Gloucester.”
After the OED and other such reference tools mentioned above, linguis¬
tic studies and aids proceed with Shakespeare’s Pronunciation by Helge
Kokeritz. Another helpful work by Kokeritz is Shakespeare’s Names: A Pro¬
nouncing Dictionary. A classic work that studies Shakespeare in relation to
rhetoric in his time is Miriam Joseph’s Shakespeare’s Use of the Arts of
Language. Hilda M. Hulme’s Explorations in Shakespeare’s Language ex¬
amines the meanings of words in context and concerns itself with such
matters as proverbs, bawdy language, Latinate diction, spelling habits, and
pronunciation. Respondents also mention M. M. Mahood’s Shakespeare’s
Wordplay, G. L. Brook’s Language of Shakespeare, and S. S. Hussey’s
Literary Language of Shakespeare. A useful essay on the varieties of
language in the play is Sheldon P. Zitner’s “King Lear and Its Language.”
 Robert H. Ray 29

Aids to Teaching

Teachers do not agree on the extent to which such teaching aids as illus¬
trations, slides, recordings, tapes, and films should be used in a college
classroom. Some feel that these materials are more appropriate on the
secondary level and indicate that they use practically no visual or audio
resources in teaching King Lear. Others, however, note that such aids are a
vital part of their approach to Shakespeare and to this particular play. Aids
may range from the simplest kind that require minimal planning and ex¬
pense to those that are more expensive and demanding to acquire and
employ.
Some teachers say that presenting in class such illustrative tools as a
quarto and the First Folio (available in facsimile) is illuminating to students
of Shakespeare. This is especially true in illustrating the two versions of King
Lear. Also easily available and frequently used are extant illustrations of
such theaters as the Swan, with which the teacher can discuss the structure
of a typical playhouse, possible variations of it, and the specifics in staging
King Lear. Conjectural renderings of the Globe and photographs of models
are frequendy passed around or projected in the classroom, if not available
in the edition or textbook being used. Some teachers report making, or hav¬
ing students make, models of the Globe to display in class. One respondent
purchased the model sold by the Folger Shakespeare Library, Washington,
DC, and he finds it quite helpful in “bringing to life” the staging of King
Lear as the play is being read and discussed. Teachers might be well ad¬
vised, however, to alter any model based on Adams’s conception of the
Globe to accord with some of the more recent discoveries by such scholars
as Hodges and Hosley (see discussion above in “Theatrical Studies ”). Other
respondents mention purchasing a paper or cut-and-paste model sold in
Stratford: one comments that it serves classroom purposes as well as any
other available.
A good number of instructors prepare their own slides of relevant sites in
England to use in discussing both Shakespeare’s life and King Lear. Others
purchase slides that are helpful in teaching background on Shakespeare’s
life and theater. Some specifically praise the Folger Library Slide Sets on
costumes, Shakespeare’s life, and the Globe (see list of works cited for
further information on these and other aids mentioned in the rest of this
section). One teacher says that these slides are quite good and come with
full explanatory notes: another notes that they help a teacher illustrate the
minimal number of props needed for King Lear and discuss the staging of
the first scene. Other slides found useful are those in Shakespeare: New Pro¬
ductions (1975-80) by KaiDib Films.
 30 MATERIALS

Two recordings of the play are frequently mentioned by teachers who

use them in class. The four-record King Lear by the Marlowe Society and
Professional Players (directed by George Rylands) appeared in 1961. The
Shakespeare Recording Society produced a four-record King Lear in 1965
(directed by Howard Sackler); Paul Scofield plays the part of Lear. This lat¬
ter recording is the one most frequently used by teachers in the MLA sur¬
vey. One respondent uses selected scenes in class to stimulate alternative
readings posed by students. Playing the last scene on this record may pro¬
duce a striking, emotional silence in the classroom, but one that leads to
earnest discussion of the ending.
Several films and video productions of King Lear are available, and many
teachers report using them. (Information on rental or purchase of these is
found in the film and video section of the list of works cited.) The film
chosen more than any other is that of 1971, photographed in Jutland and
directed by Peter Rrook, with Paul Scofield and Irene Worth acting. The
film is in black and white. One respondent says, “The black-and-white
photography, barren landscapes, and ancient stone buildings are principal
means by which Brook emphasizes those qualities of the tragedy that are
most difficult to represent in the classroom.” Another teacher comments,
The starkness and bleakness of the film effectively dramatize the theme of
‘nothingness,’ and the acting is quite good.” Others praise the film with
such comments as “captures the starkness and monolithic primitivism of
King Lear” “an excellent critical stimulus,” and “conveys the nihilism of
the play better than any other film or stage production I’ve ever seen.”
There are dissenting voices, however. One teacher says that it is an “ex¬
treme version of the nihilistic interpretation of the play and a demonstra¬
tion of extreme license with Shakespeare’s text to favor this interpreta¬
tion. Another criticizes how the “visual presence of one hundred knights
creating mayhem diverts our sympathy from Lear to Goneril” and how “the
blinding of Gloucester is spoiled by the omission of the splendid protest by
Cornwall’s servant.”
The other film of King Lear frequently used by teachers is the version
directed by Grigori Kozintsev, with Yuri Jarvet and Elza Radzins acting. It
is a 1971 black-and-white USSR film in Russian, with English subtitles. The
most frequent criticisms of this film are that the print and sound are of poor
quality and that the subtitles are difficult to read. But, despite these flaws,
teachers praise it for the positive view it presents, in contrast to the Brook
version. Several say that it provides a critical stimulus and sparks discussion
among students. Kozintsev also wrote King Lear: The Space of Tragedy, a
book that comments on the film and the making of it. (For further details
and evaluation of these two films, the reader should consult the essays by
Kenneth S. Rothwell and Hugh M. Richmond in part 2 below.)
 Robert H. Ray 31

Two recent video productions of King Lear promise to be useful for the
classroom. Jonathan Miller directed the 1982 production for BBC-TV/
Time-Life, Inc. Michael Hordern plays King Lear. Despite its availability
for the classroom and some obvious virtues in performances, the teacher
might have some reservations about facets of this 1982 version: Kenneth
Rothwell reviews both its strengths and weaknesses in his contribution
below. Steven Urkowitz has reviewed the BBC production in Shakespeare
on Film Newsletter (“King Lear without Tears”). Granada Television’s 1983
production, directed by Michael Elliott, presents Laurence Olivier as Lear.
Critics praise the Granada production highly, particularly because of
Olivier s performance: for further details and evaluation, the reader again
should consult Roth well’s essay. This 1983 version has also been reviewed
by Steven Urkowitz ( Lord Olivier’s King Lear”) and by Marion Perret.
Also valuable for teachers are commentaries on films and guides to films
and other media versions of King Lear and Shakespeare’s works in general.
Roger Manvell’s Shakespeare and the Film, a guide to films of Shake¬
speare s works, contains a good discussion of Brook’s staging, in contrast to
Kozintsev’s. Another useful book is the collection edited by Charles W.
Eckert entitled Focus on Shakespearean Films. A highly respected, percep¬
tive commentary on King Lear films, as well as others, is Shakespeare on
Film by Jack J. Jorgens. Barry M. Parker’s Folger Shakespeare Filmography
is a directory of feature films based on Shakespeare’s works. For a current
guide and commentary on films and videotapes of Shakespeare’s plays, one
should read the Shakespeare on Film Newsletter (edited by Kenneth S.
Rothwell, Univ. of Vermont, and Bernice W. Kliman, Nassau Community
Coll.). Since December 1976, it has published two numbers a year. Ex¬
cellent for developing fresh material and aids in teaching Shakespeare is
Andrew M. McLean’s Shakespeare: Annotated Bibliographies and Media
Guide for Teachers. McLean covers feature films, television, filmstrips,
slides, tapes, and records. He cites several reviews of the Brook and
Kozintsev films. A directory of producers, distributors, and rental sources
concludes his volume.

r
 ■

.
 Part Two

APPROACHES
INTRODUCTION

Each of the following sixteen essays, written by selected participants in the

MLA survey, illustrates a particular approach to teaching King Lear. The in¬
tent is to present a variety of approaches as guides for practical use at all levels
of undergraduate instruction. The authors write about their particular em¬
phases, techniques, and activities in teaching the play.
Most of the contributors are Shakespeare specialists who regularly teach
courses on Shakespeare, but several also teach King Lear in other types of
courses, such as a survey of British literature. Most have written books or ar¬
ticles in the field. They have taught, thought about, and experimented with
King Lear more than the nonspecialist and, therefore, have much to offer both
nonspecialists and specialists.
Many of the essayists’ approaches are designed to help solve some problems
in teaching King Lear. A portion of the MLA questionnaire asked respondents
what they perceived as the major problems in teaching the play and also asked
for suggested solutions. The numerous responses uncovered many common
difficulties teachers have in discussing and presenting this play in the
classroom. Most often mentioned is the inability of young students to em¬
pathize with an old man and to comprehend fully the obligations of youth to
age. The pessimistic vision of the play as a whole and its relation to the inter¬
pretation of the ending is the next most frequently mentioned problem.

35
36 INTRODUCTION

Teachers find it difficult to have students come to terms with the bleakness of
the play and to see some of the affirmative elements that may moderate the
pessimism: as one teacher says, “We all get so depressed! After these two
dominant problems, others noted in the questionnaires are as follows (gen¬
erally from most to least frequently mentioned): conveying the universality of
the play, teaching the two concepts of nature, managing the complex imagery,
interesting the students in the action of the play through its staging, present¬
ing the archetypal characters, and explaining kingship in the Renaissance. A
practical problem also mentioned by several instructors is the lack of class
time to convey fully the richness of the play. Although some of these dif¬
ficulties have been noted above in “Materials” (with certain books and articles
that help solve them), many of them, along with stimulating solutions, are ad¬
dressed by the essays.
The approaches begin with two essays (by Vincent F. Petronella and Ken¬
neth S. Rothwell) that present overviews of the play from a variety of critical
perspectives and classroom techniques. More specialized emphases and ap¬
proaches follow in the succeeding essays.
Several of the approaches place primary focus on theme and character.
Lynda E. Boose discusses the play through marriage and family relationships.
Linked to Boose’s essay by a common concern with the family is Ann E.
Imbrie’s development of an archetypal treatment Ann Paton then presents
the continuity of theatrical, religious, and cultural traditions in several literary
works preceding and linked to King Lear. Frances Teague illustrates the in¬
tegral relation of a major theme (perception) with a motif of imagery (sight) in
the play. In the process, she suggests how to teach the play by a classroom
focus on this or other lines of its imagery.
Three essays approach King Lear in its dramatic and philosophical contexts.
James E. Hirsh illustrates how the play’s unique dramatic structure reveals
both Shakespeare’s genius and the essence of King Lear. Maurice Hunt then
shows how a teacher can employ student-constructed “maps” to convey this
antiformalist structure and theme of the play, especially in a survey course
covering several dramas of a more traditional, formalist nature. Bruce W.
Young discusses the philosophical assumptions common to King Lear and
Hooker’s Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity.
The role of the written text and its oral and visual performance figure in the
next series of approaches. Michael Warren’s essay concerns finding a proper
text, in light of the two early versions of the play. J. L. Styan and John B. Har-
court focus on dramatic performance and production, thus emphasizing the
experiences of actors and audience as methods for teaching the play.
The last four essays present perhaps the most highly specialized ap¬
proaches, either in terms of teaching techniques employed or courses taught
or facets of the play under examination. Jean Klene’s pedagogical technique
uses slides in conjunction with student-composed “investigations.” Hugh M.
 Robert H. Ray 37

Richmond shows how King Lear may be taught in a film course on Shake¬
speare. David L. Kranz illustrates how a technique of student debates can be
used to highlight the pervasive problem of the ending of the play and the
related controversy of its pessimistic or optimistic metaphysical vision. As a
conclusion, J. W. Robinson discusses his development of a unique course that
covers only King Lear, implying ways that other instructors could teach a
similar class.
The essays represent a cross section of teaching techniques and critical in¬
terpretations. Some instructors employ primarily lecture, others mainly discus¬
sion, and still others a combination. Many use performance methods, visual
and audio media, and various creative assignments. Several authors’ inter¬
pretations resemble those of other contributors, but like critics of the play,
many of these teachers reveal divergent interpretations and emphases. The
burden still falls on the individual readers of these essays to establish the best
interpretations and approaches for themselves. One survey respondent says,
“The greatest problem in teaching King Lear is its multiplicity of meaning, the
fact that of so many interpretations it can be said ‘And that’s true too.’ ”
Thus, even though these essays can provide no simple and final answers,
they may make matters a bit easier for the trek on the heath. They are so of¬
fered to colleagues by these dedicated teacher-authors.

RHR
GENERAL OVERVIEWS

An Eclectic Critical Approach:

Sources, Language, Imagery,
Character, and Themes
Vincent F. Petronella

Because King Lear, as well as the amount of commentary on it, is massive,

teaching the play requires selectivity. Consequently, I focus attention in
class on three or four longer portions of each act and touch on briefer
moments for continuity, spending about six class meetings on the play. My
critical approach is eclectic. I consider the play in terms of sources,
language, imagery, character, themes, and the interrelations of these ele¬
ments. After considering sources, I proceed in sequence through the play.
In actual practice, I combine the consideration of language, imagery,
character, and themes, referring to sources when necessary. In this paper,
however, I shall treat the five categories separately in order to facilitate dis¬
cussion of their important features.
Teachers of King Lear, who usually do not have enough time for a
detailed in-class account of sources, may wish to organize an overview of
sources to demonstrate how Shakespeare’s imagination works and hence
should be familiar with the following informed discussions: W. W. Greg’s
“The Date of King Lear and Shakespeare’s Use of Earlier Versions of the
Story,” Volume 7 of Geoffrey Bullough’s Narrative and Dramatic Sources of
Shakespeare, Kenneth Muir’s Sources of Shakespeare’s Plays, Joseph Satin’s
Shakespeare and His Sources, Wilfrid Perrett’s Story of King Lear from

38
 Vincent F. Petronella 39

Geoffrey of Monmouth to Shakespeare, G. K. Hunter’s “Shakespeare’s

Reading, John J. M. Tobin s Apuleius and the Bradleian Tragedies,”
Muir s Arden Shakespeare edition of King Lear, and G. Rlakemore Evans’s
Chronology and Sources in his Riverside Shakespeare, which serves as
the edition for all quotations from King Lear in this paper. Armed with the
information in these studies, the teacher becomes aware of the wide array
of sources and analogues for King Lear, should select some of the most im¬
portant sources to emphasize in class, and may assign some of the sources
themselves and the relevant discussions of them to students.
Four of the most important sources of King Lear (1605) are the
anonymous play The True Chronicle Historie of King Leir and His Three
Daughters, published in 1605 but thought to have been performed as early
as 1593; Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia (1590); Spenser’s Faerie Queene, 2
(1590); and Samuel Harsnett’s Declaration of Egregious Popish Impostures
(1603). Respectively, these works supplied the overall movement of the
play, the subplot, the death of Cordelia by hanging, and the diction and
lore of Poor Tom’s bizarre world. These are, then, the key sources for the
play, and teachers should be aware of what Shakespeare draws from them
and how he shapes the derived material for his dramatic purposes.
The longest of the sources, the old Leir play, opens with the King of Brit-
tayne grieving for the recent loss of his wife and, because of this grief,
deciding to divide his kingdom and to abdicate. Leir plans the love test in
order to trick Cordelia into becoming the wife of the King of Brittany. On
hand are two advisers, one good (Perillus) and one bad (Skalliger), who
represent in the fashion of a morality play good and bad angels that com¬
pete for the king’s approval. After the love test, which Cordelia fails
because she chooses to speak plainly and not to indulge in the kind of flat¬
tery offered by Gonorill and Ragan, the Leir family starts to disintegrate.
Cordelia eventually marries the King of Gallia and later assists her father to
regain health following the mistreatment he suffers at the hands of
Gonorill and Ragan. Once the evil sisters and their husbands, the Kings of
Cornwall and Cambria, are defeated, Cordelia restores her father to the
throne of Brittayne. Before leaving for Gallia, Cordelia and her husband re¬
main for a time in Brittayne at the request of Leir.
What takes place over the course of eight scenes in Leir is condensed in
the opening scene of King Lear. The concentration of events is dense with
ideas that undergo development during the remainder of Shakespeare’s
play. Although much of what occurs in King Lear does not derive from the
Leir play, the older play provided the general format, including basic
character relationships and the sequence of events in the main plot; in ad¬
dition, it provided some themes and diction. What Shakespeare added to
the Leir material is the character of the Fool, Lear’s insanity and extreme
age, the banished Kent (in contrast with the unbanished Perillus), the story
40 AN ECLECTIC CRITICAL APPROACH

of Gloucester and his sons, the death of Cordelia, and the raging storm.
Shakespeare’s imagination, then, blended original ideas with derived
ones.
To exemplify this blend, the teacher should consider how in Leir Cor¬
delia disappoints her father during the love test with these words: “I can¬
not paynt my duty forth in words,” to which Leir responds, “Why how now,
Minion, are you growne so proud? / Doth our deare love make you thus
peremptory?” (Bullough 344). Generally this is the exchange in King Lear,
but that in the source falls short of the devastating effect of Cordelia’s
repeated “Nothing” and her follow-up to that stark, unpainted word:

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave

My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty
According to my bond, no more nor less. (I.i.91-93)

As if wanting to remind us of this agonizing moment in Cordelia’s early

dramatic appearance, Shakespeare includes two key words from the above
passage in the beautiful verbal portrait of Cordelia spoken by the Gentle¬
man in IV.iii: “ ... she heav’d the name of ‘father’ / Pantingly forth, as if it
press’d her heart” (25-26). Heave represents hard-hitting diction; in the
first scene it almost suggests regurgitation. Heart, by contrast, evokes the
softness and warmth of the cordial Cordelia. Both words serve to charac¬
terize her, for she is a mixture of softness and strength. She is tender in her
love for her father and tough in employing military force to rescue him.
The teacher may choose to assign the preceding exchange for students to
compare in Leir and King Lear or may simply point out in lecture or discus¬
sion how Shakespeare has used his source and to what effect.
When Spenser, in The Faerie Queene, refers to Cordelia’s response dur¬
ing the love test, he uses language like that of the Leir play: “[Her] simple
answere, wanting colours faire / To paint it forth, him to displeasance
moov’d” (2.10.28), but Spenser’s version of the story differs in important
ways: it uses the “Shakespearean” spelling for Cordelia’s name and speaks
of her death by hanging. These features Shakespeare incorporated into his
play along with several details from Sidney’s Arcadia (see Bullough): (1)
the manner of Lear’s suffering and death (Sidney: “[The Paphlagonian
king s] hart broken with unkindnes and affliction, stretched so farre
beyond his limits with this excesse of comfort” [Bullough 407]; Shake¬
speare: “I tax [i.e., “accuse”] not you, you elements, with unkindness” and
“he hates him / That would upon the rack of this tough world / Stretch him
out longer” [III. ii.16, V.iii.314-16]); (2) the deception practiced by Ed¬
mund against Gloucester (from the story of Plangus); (3) the matter of
suicide, justice, and innocent victims (from a verse dialogue between
Plangus and Basilius); and (4) the storm. This last detail may also have been
 Vincent F. Petronella 41

suggested by some incidents in the Leir play: Gonorill’s soliloquy denigrat¬

ing her father in order to remove blame from herself for having mistreated
him ( ... after him lie send such thunderclaps / Of slaunder, scandalband
invented tales [Bullough 361]) and the flash of lightning and the repeated
sound of thunder in the messenger scene (Bullough 377-79). The storm in
King Lear may also derive from Spenser’s brief but vivid description of the
tempestuous times of Rivallo, a descendant of “Leyr,” recalled in The
Faerie Queene (2.10.34): In [Rivallo’s] sad time [cf. the phrase at the close
of King Lear] blood did from heaven raine.” But it is Harsnett who speaks
most frequently of violent storms blowing “downe steeples, trees, may-
poles ; of the huge thunder cracke of adiuration” along with “lightning
from heaven” and “shelter against what wind or weather so ever” (Muir,
King Lear 239-41). In addition, Harsnett provided Shakespeare with an
array of diabolical names (“Frateretto,” “Fliberdigibbet,” “Hoberdidance”)
and other details of diction for Edgar’s portrayal of Poor Tom, whose psy¬
chological tempest reflects the natural madness of the Fool, the actual
madness of Lear, and the general madness of the world.
To explore the way Shakespeare amplifies, condenses, or complicates his
sources, students may be given portions of both the Leir play and the rele¬
vant episodes of Sidney’s Arcadia to consider. It works very well to place
Bullough’s seventh volume (and other such studies, if the teacher desires)
on reserve and then to assign, in sequential order, one segment from Leir
and one from Sidney to each student; on the first day King Lear is con¬
sidered, the student will read aloud a succinct and specific statement ad¬
dressing the following questions: (1) What does Shakespeare take un¬
changed from your segment of Leir and the Sidney narrative? (2) What
does he add? (3) What does he condense? (4) What else does he do
besides add to or subtract from the sources? (5) What artistic or dramatic
effects are achieved by what he has done? Before the students submit their
written statements, the teacher should have each student read them in se¬
quence, all of the Leir material first and then all of the Sidney narrative.
Once the reading has taken place, the class will have participated, within
the space of about forty minutes, in a group commentary on two of Shake¬
speare’s chief sources for King Lear. Furthermore, the teacher now feels
confident that anything said in subsequent meetings about sources will not
sound remote or intimidating.
The next step is language. To introduce students to the linguistic features
of Shakespeare’s English, one should make use of the forthright accounts
in David Bevington’s introduction and glossary in his edition of The Com¬
plete Works, the first chapter of David Zesmer’s Guide to Shakespeare,
Winifred M. T. Nowottny’s “Some Aspects of the Style of King Lear,”
Sheldon P. Zitner’s “King Lear and Its Language,” and David Aers and
Gunther Kress’s “Language of Social Order: Individual, Society, and His-
42 AN ECLECTIC CRITICAL APPROACH

torical Process in King Lear.” For most students a sound introduction to

Shakespeare’s English and its possibilities is available in these works. The
students can read and be held responsible for at least the Bevington, Zes-
mer, or Nowottny discussion. One of these could be incorporated into an
examination or quiz question or into an assignment of a paper. The teacher
might use all the readings listed as the basis for lecture material and as
sources for three or four leading questions to be used in class during a dis¬
cussion of language.
King Lear features several forms that structure language: blank verse,
prose, rhymed verse, and doggerel. Students need to know that these
create social and emotional distinctions as well as rhetorical and character
contrasts. Even though, as Maurice Charney tells us, “[Shakespeare’s]
language has the freedom, irregularity, and self-indulgence of spoken En¬
glish” (How to Read Shakespeare 54), it adheres to formal structures of
language. The language is stylized, and yet it is extremely flexible. It can be
knotty and angular, and it can also be plain.
Such plainness opens and closes King Lear. The opening prose ex¬
change between Kent and Gloucester is conversational, even bawdy; Ed¬
mund’s language here is that of a guarded, concealing formality. Soon all of
this gives way to verse and a language of court ceremony and ritual, which
in turn generates Goneril’s and Regan’s deceitful language, Cordelia’s dis¬
turbing reticence (a “plainness” that Lear links with “pride” [I.i. 129]),
Kent’s energetic bluntness (“To plainness honor’s bound,” he says
[I.i. 148]), and Lear’s vituperative imprecations. In the subplot too one
hears a forthright conversational language as well as relatively formal
language, both of which are sometimes used for either deceitful purposes
or for blunt communication. This mixture of the colloquial and the formal
for deception or bluntness echoes ironically the main plot. Then the Fool
enters the play, with his half-cracked language of parody, doggerel, ellipsis,
and sardonic wit. He also amplifies the bluntness already associated with
Gloucester and Kent in the opening scene. Later the disguised Edgar
shows the language to be even more flexible by mimicking various dialects.
Finally, out of disguise, Edgar utters the plain but moving lines that close
the play.
An assignment for students may involve their finding examples of the
various kinds of language discussed above or of still other features. And the
teacher may wish to offer some suggestions here, pointing out that the
language can be allusive (Aesopian: “thou bor’st thine ass on thy back o’er
the dirt” [I.iv.161-62]; Promethean: “O Regan, she hath tied / Sharp-
tooth’d unkindness, like a vulture, here” [Il.iv. 134-35]; Arthurian: “This
prophecy Merlin shall make, for I live before his time” [III.ii.95]; biblical:
“O dear father, / It is thy business that I go about” [IV.iv.23-24]; Sidneyan:
“Have I caught thee?” [V.iii.21]). And it can be paradoxical: “Nothing
 Vincent F. Petronella 43

almost sees miracles / But misery” (II.ii. 165-66). The language of rage,
anger, coarseness, and madness is at the center of this tragedy, but silences
also play a role: “What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent” (I.i.62).
After preparing us for the silence, Cordelia utters the word that is at once
staggering, sobering, and inciting. Right up to the last moments of the play,
Shakespeare stresses the dramatic importance of what is not said: Edmund
is silent too long about his death orders (Waldo F. McNeir studies this
detail usefully in “The Role of Edmund in King Lear”) and Lear, after
howling in response to the Cordelia who now is silent in death (an ironic
recapitulation of the opening scene), gazes at her corpse and recalls how
“Her voice was ever soft, / Gentle, and low” (V.iii.273-74). By this time it is
clear that the silences of King Lear are like a vacuum that draws into itself
all that is sounded and heard. They are like Edgar’s “happy hollow of a
tree” (II.iii.2), waiting to be filled with echoes reverberating and amplify¬
ing the original sounds.
In addition to the dramatic contrast between silences and sounds is that
between two different ways of understanding or using language. In Shake¬
spearean Meanings (esp. 237-59 and 276-79), Sigurd Burckhardt develops
the complicated but instructive idea that Lear’s “wrath and rashness
receive the precise definition of a verbal act” (241). Lear, that is, desires to
eliminate the mediacy of all discourse and hence to “strip off all that stands
between him and the truth” (277). He regards Kent as guilty for seeking
“To come betwixt our sentence and our power, / Which nor our nature nor
our place can bear” (I.i.170-71). Lear willfully seeks immediacy, the
direct, confrontational acquisition of truth through language. By contrast,
Gloucester understands speech in terms of mediacy or reported indirect¬
ness, that is, in terms of mere signs that may or may not point in the right
direction; he is easily tricked by means of a forged or “indirect” letter. Lear
craves the uncovered, naked truth that is his privilege as one who equates
his “sentence” (sovereign speech) and his “power” (the force that creates
immediately what speech calls for). He makes the mistake of taking Cor¬
delia at her word. To him the word Nothing is understood in its most literal
sense: Nothing is nothing is nothing and hence “Nothing will come of
nothing.” Lear refuses to ponder the word, to go beneath it and mine it for
what it may tell him about the woman who uses it. This is too indirect for
him, for his very identity as a twin-bodied king made up of a personal self
(“our nature”) and regal self (“our place”) is sustained by his headstrong at¬
titude that speech creates what it states. Assuming, for example, that words
of love will immediately or directly create love, he imperiously conducts
the foolish contest in the opening scene of the play. But ironically his tragic
fall is a direct confrontation with a condition where, says Burckhardt, “all
that is sophisticate and indirect, all art and all artful constructs of rational
discourse, are stripped away and the bare forked animal alone is left (278).
44 AN ECLECTIC CRITICAL APPROACH

More recently, Timothy J. Reiss (applying Michel Foucault s theory of

discourse) in Tragedy and Truth speaks of King Lear as a “clash of different
ways of using language, of different discourses, of different ways of con¬
ceiving the relation of language to the world, to the speaker and the
hearers, to meaning and action” (189). King Lear is not only filled with a
variety of language, it is also a play about language. The teacher may ask the
students to offer details from the play to support this view. If some en¬
couragement is needed to get them started, one may quote the following:
“Mean time we shall express our darker purpose” (I.i.36); “Tell me, my
daughters / ... Which of you shall we say doth love us most?” (I.i.48, 51);
“Speak / ... Nothing will come of nothing, speak again” (I.i.86, 90). These
few examples (with italics added) represent only a beginning of a series of
references to words, ways of speaking, and other concerns of language
found in the play and should stimulate students to come up with several
other related passages. Then the teacher may want to point out that, ac¬
cording to Reiss, King Lear “shows us people trapped between two dif¬
ferent conceptions of what language is and does.” Cordelia sees language
as referential, intrinsically linking what one says with the world, with
meaning; Goneril, Regan, and Edmund use language as an “instrument for
the acquisition of power and possessions, for the imposition of the speaker”
(189). Lear himself inclines toward Cordelia’s conception of language but
also wants to practice it in the way that Goneril and Regan do. In seeking to
use both, he ends up with neither, and this futile attempt underscores the
impact of the play.
The impact of King Lear also has been explored over the past forty years
through various studies of its figurative and literal imagery. Images abound
in King Lear and often serve as a chief way of making the play accessible to
students. Robert Heilman’s This Great Stage is the central study of pat¬
terned imagery in King Lear, and any teacher who deals with the play must
know what this critical study has to offer; in addition, one should consult
other contributions to the area: Thelma N. Greenfield’s “The Clothing
Motif in King Lear,” Wolfgang Clemen’s Development of Shakespeare’s Im¬
agery, and W. R. Keast’s strictures regarding Heilman’s book in “The ‘New
Criticism’ and King Lear.”
A certain amount of commentary on networks of images can be done in
the classroom, but this should not be overdone. The teacher may specify
four or five iterative references each to sight, animals, clothing, and nature.
Students might assist in this kind of analysis but should be made aware that
the dramatic context of such references must be considered. For example,
Lear’s “Out of my sight” (Li. 157), addressed angrily to Kent, is linked
dramatically to the blindness of the king as it concerns those who love him
most. Furthermore, students should realize that images are interrelated:
figurative references to sight or sightlessness become associated with the
 Vincent F. Petronella 45

literal image of Gloucester’s blinding; and, at the turning point of the play
(III.iv.101-09), after many references to clothing in earlier scenes, Lear
tears off his own clothing in a gesture that suggests his wish to see clearer
the reality of animal nature and its relation to human nature. Students find
this use of New Critical analysis appealing, for it gives them the satisfaction
of specifying how coherence and unity occur in such a large play as King
Lear. Also appealing and helpful is the study of the relation between verbal
elements in the play and different forms of iconography. Russell A. Fraser’s
Shakespeare’s Poetics in Relation to King Lear is extremely useful in prepar¬
ing a lecture on this matter. Fraser’s book may even be placed on reserve
should a short paper on iconography in King Lear be assigned. The con¬
nection between literal or figurative language and pictorial analogues
(paintings, engravings, sculptures) for that language, as studied by scholars
such as Fraser and Wylie Sypher, never ceases to interest students. Their
attention is readily captured by the literal and figurative storm images that
become the storm scene on the stage, by clothing references that translate
into costumes, and by animal references that support actors’ and actresses’
portrayal of the bestiality of the evil daughters, as well as the primitiveness
of Poor Tom and the dehumanized life of Lear.
When a class has at its disposal the BBC-TV/Time-Life version of King
Lear, with Michael Flordem as Lear, particular attention can be given to
the transfer of word to theatrical production. For example, students can
discuss whether the use of Jacobean costumes in the video version is an ap¬
propriate approach to the verbal images of clothing found in the play.
Another directorial touch is the depiction of Poor Tom. In disguise, Edgar
(played by Anton Lesser) wears a crown of thorny nettles and reveals a
stigmatalike wound in the palm of one hand. On his other hand is a crawl¬
ing insect, an object of contemplation during the soliloquy that opens
IV.i:

Yet better thus, and known to be contemn’d,

Than still contemn’d and flatter’d. To be worst,
The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune.
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear.

This scene is part of a theatrical context that uses animal imagery very well,
but we should question the way Poor Tom is made up to suggest Christ or
St. Francis. Does this force a Christian reading on the play? Students enjoy
exploring this question. At the same time they can explore the iconography
of the lower animal world in religious emblems and paintings, which may
be the source for how Poor Tom is depicted in the BBC version. The insect¬
like fiends attacking or hovering over St. Anthony Abbot in various paint¬
ings or engravings (Bosch’s early painting of the saint in Madrid’s Prado or
46 AN ECLECTIC CRITICAL APPROACH

Schongauer’s engraving in New York’s Metropolitan Museum, for example)

are relevant to this conception of Poor Tom, whose video portrayal serves
well as the basis for a short paper on the iconographic tradition and theatri¬
cal production. Another short paper might focus attention on the portrayal
of the Fool by an older actor (Frank Middlemass) to emphasize the folly of
old Lear. The Fool is in whiteface to suggest not only his jester status but
also to create a range of suggestions: innocence, illness, death, blankness,
and nothing. After the rainstorm the Fool utters his last line (“And I’ll go to
bed at noon’’ [III.vi.85]), and the rain has washed the whiteness from his
face. A question should be put to the class: Does the washing away of the
clownish whiteface represent the cleansing effect of suffering, the wiping
away of foolishness, and the acquisition of a new “face” as far as Lear is con¬
cerned? With questions like this we move inevitably into a consideration of
character.
The characters of King Lear represent various levels of society, different
ways of using language, and several political and moral attitudes. Further¬
more, they are participants in a complex structure of relationships. By using
a blackboard diagram the teacher may communicate to students a visual
equivalent of Lear’s relationships with other characters. Write the charac¬
ters names on the board, and then connect Lear’s name to each of the
others with (1) smooth lines to indicate good relationships (e.g., Lear and
the Fool), (2) jagged lines to indicate faulty ones, and (3) a combination of
smooth and jagged lines for relationships that either deteriorate (e.g., Lear-
Goneril, Lear-Regan) or strengthen (e.g., Lear-Cordelia). Students might
participate early in the diagramming until all the characters, except very
minor ones, and all major relationships are accounted for. This activity not
only introduces students to the characters but also represents, as one stu¬
dent put it, something to hold on to” when entering the labyrinth of the
play. From this point, one may move to a more substantial analysis of in¬
dividual characters.
Having students deal with characters in terms of basic critical questions
is very instructive. What do characters say? How do they say things? What
does one character say about another character? How is this said? All four
questions are essential and are applicable to the very opening of King Lear.
Here Kent speaks of the sons-in-law and reveals his uncertainty as to whom
the king prefers; Gloucester continues the idea of uncertainty as he too
speaks of the sons-in-law. The opening lines provide incomplete exposition
through the uncertainty expressed by both Kent and Gloucester, but this
also creates important dramatiq tension. Kent and Gloucester are in a
political position to know whom the king prefers, but neither of them does
know. Ironically, Kent does not even know Edmund, never having met
him, but will sue to know [him] better.” Kent’s line is spoken almost per¬
functorily. The intelligent Edmund senses this tone, for his response in-
 Vincent F. Petronella 47

eludes the word study, a term tnat implies calculation, an appropriate

frame of mind for the chief Machiavel of the play. We learn, then, a great
deal about these characters in a very short space. As the play unfolds, an ad¬
ditional question must be asked: What does each character in the play
wantr* When we begin pondering this question, we are on our way to know¬
ing the characters in King Lear.
One feature of the characters we come to know is their associations with
certain moral, political, or social principles. Characters themselves become
thematic and, as such, help to make King Lear a modern parable, some¬
thing Maynard Mack demonstrates in King Lear in Our Time. Although the
pre-Shakespearean tradition of the allegorical drama, as Bernard Spivack
has shown in Shakespeare and the Allegory of Evil, stands behind the
dramaturgy of the play and can be seen in the homiletic features of the Fool
and the Vicelike wit and shrewdness of Edmund, characters in King Lear
are not in a strict sense allegorical. And yet we may see Lear as Suffering
Humanity, Cordelia as Innocent Victim, Kent as Loyal Service, and Ed¬
mund as Realpolitik. Shakespeare in Lear wants to generalize and to have
the play assume a mythic expansiveness. Part of the greatness of King Lear
is its referential drive, and this drive generates thematic power.
This thematic power resides, certainly, in the play’s forceful treatments
of human suffering, the bestial within humanity, the primacy of passion, the
folly of the world, self-discovery, regeneration, human cruelty toward
human beings, the need for ripeness, helplessness, Christian values, pagan
values, the perversion of love, the destruction of love, the redemptive
power of love, contingency, mortality, gradations of service, errors in judg¬
ment and their consequences, the paradoxes of seeing in blindness and
reasoning in madness, the Machiavellian version of political reality, divi¬
sion and disorder, the education of the young and the old, the contention
between the young and the old, the Apocalypse, the monstrosity of the
Freudian id, and nothingness. Obviously, all these themes cannot possibly
be dealt with in any given semester that devotes about six meetings to King
Lear. Whole books have focused attention on important themes in the
play—John F. Danby’s Shakespeare’s Doctrine of Nature and William R. El¬
ton’s King Lear and the Gods, to name just two; therefore, the rubric “be
selective” should sound all the more sage and sane.
I usually select one or two themes to emphasize and develop more fully
than others in lecture and discussion. One of the most manageable in the
classroom is the theme of self-discovery, and I recommend it to teachers of
the play. The students respond to its clear development and to its universal
and timeless import. Lear has “ever but slenderly known himself ” (I.i.293-
94), but as Paul Jorgensen informs us in Lear’s Self-Discovery, his gradual
knowledge of self does come; in fact, it follows stages that recall the main
topics in treatises of nosce teipsum (“know thyself’) in the Renaissance:
48 AN ECLECTIC CRITICAL APPROACH

(1) nature as tutor (Danby’s book is important in this regard), (2) the dif¬
ficulty of acquiring self-knowledge, (3) flattery as a deterrent to self-
knowledge, (4) affliction as a stimulus to self-knowledge, and, most impor¬
tant, (5) the study of one’s own passions and one’s own body as ways to
self-knowledge.
Deceived by flattery and taught by nature through affliction, Lear even¬
tually moves, with difficulty, toward subduing passion and quelling his ob¬
sessive concern with the physical. Regarding his behavior generally and his
treatment of Cordelia specifically, he comes to experience “sovereign
shame” (IV.iii.42) and a “burning shame” (IV.iii.46). This realization comes
shortly before the climactic recognition scene, in which Lear reveals in¬
sight into his own self as well as into the self of Cordelia: “I am a very foolish
fond old man, / ... Pray you now forget, and forgive; I am old and foolish”
(IV.vii.59, 84). He answers, at least in part, his own question asked early in
the play: “Who is it that can tell me who I am?” (I.iv.230). It is not the com¬
plete or the perfect answer; but, by contrast with the blind rashness the old
king exhibited in earlier scenes, it is a dignified achievement worthy of a
great tragic figure. I find Jorgensen’s book most helpful in teaching the
play through the theme of self-discovery. The teacher, however, may also
want to show students the arguments of some other critics who do not see
such optimistic progress in King Lear. For purposes of class discussion or
for papers, the teacher may wish to assign students such commentary on
King Lear as that in Rolf Soellner’s Shakespeare’s Patterns of Self-Knowl¬
edge and in the essay of Thomas P. Roche, Jr., entitled “ ‘Nothing Almost
Sees Miracles’: Tragic Knowledge in King Lear.’’ Lear, according to Roche,
has learned nothing: “Not even suffering has taught him anything” (161).
Lively discussion and writing result when students take their stands on the
matter of self-discovery.
Toward the end of the time spent on King Lear, I find it useful for
students to write in class a single sentence stating what they see as the
play’s most important themes. A model for this brief exercise is as
follows:

King Lear is an apocalyptic play that dramatizes the link between

humanity and brute nature and what happens when division in the
family, state, cosmos, and individual mind strips humankind of its pro¬
tective garment, making it intensely vulnerable and subject to the on¬
slaught of the bestial, irrational world and hence forcing certain in¬
dividuals to discover both a humanity and a self never before
experienced.

Not all students will write this kind of statement, but something like this
may serve as the teacher’s contribution to the exercise after the best stu-
 Vincent F. Petronella 49

dent responses have been chosen, reproduced, and distributed. The

statements can be evaluated in class as part of the last meeting on King
Lear. This procedure assists the summing up of the play and leads effec¬
tively into the teacher’s concluding remarks. It also once again gives the
students “something to hold on to” as they anticipate a paper assignment or
examination on the play.
This, then, is the King Lear of an eclectic approach. I think that the
teacher who is disturbed by one critical school’s clashing with another does
well to reconcile them for purposes of the classroom, to take the best of
what each has to offer, and to impart the sum to students.
 Teaching a Plural Work Pluralistically
Kenneth S. Rothwell

In teaching a work as plural as King Lear, I use a pluralistic approach that

considers the play on the printed page as well as on stage and on film.1 I
begin with text and context, as I ask students to identify and define the
principal facts, issues, contexts, forces, and dilemmas one needs to know
about for intelligent discussion of King Lear. To achieve this end, we sub¬
ject the text to a Cartesian part-whole analysis. Nothing teaches better than
the experience of disassembling and reassembling. The French school of
criticism and the Yale theorists have opened up enormously sophisticated
ways of decentering and deconstructing literary texts. For my own part I
have leaned heavily on traditional Aristotelian systems from the Art of
Poetry. For example, in A Mirror for Shakespeare, a study guide written for
my students at the University of Vermont, the King Lear section, as well as
others, is structured around the categories of plot (mythos), character
(ethos), theme (dianoia), language (lexis), spectacle (opsis), music (melos).
Thus, I establish the “goals” for King Lear, as though one could ever
resolve them, as follows:

• Plot (mythos): To see how Shakespeare has reshaped the legendary tale
of a wrathful old king’s division of his kingdom among his children
(from Geoffrey of Monmouth) into a tragic drama, emblematic of the
human condition. To note the labyrinthine echoes and contrasts
achieved by redundancy: the same story is told through the experi¬
ences of the Lear group (Lear-Goneril-Regan-Cordelia-Kent) in the
main plot and through those of the Gloucester family (Gloucester-
Edmund-Edgar) in the subplot.
• Character (ethos): To observe how the mirror effect created by the twin
plots allows manifold opportunities to compare the two fathers (Lear
and Gloucester) and the decent with the impudent servant (Kent and
Oswald). To notice the way characters may also be said to stand for
moral absolutes of good and evil and to examine the functions of clowns
and lunatics (the Fool and Mad Tom) as extensions of the personalities
of their masters and as agents of paradox.
• Theme (dianoia): To explore the multiple ways Shakespeare inves¬
tigates the mystery of human life in confrontation with wild and inex¬
plicable forces of good and evil. Lear is a play about growing old, about
suffering, about despair, about alienation, about “the end of the world,”
and, paradoxically, about the triumph of humanity over all of these
horrors.

50
 Kenneth S. Rothwell 51

• Language (lexis): To look at the ways Shakespeare succeeds in creating

great poetry as well as great drama in the surge and power of words that
link the “little world of man” with the ultimate forces of an inscru¬
table universe.

Having established goals, or priorities, the next step is to compose study

questions for guiding the students more or less sequentially through the
text. Begun informally as dittoed handouts, my own questions gradually ex¬
panded and, after much student criticism, eventually emerged as the
Mirror, mentioned above. These questions are not designed to circumvent,
avoid, bypass, or simplify the text, as is often the case with commercial crib
notes, but rather to reawaken interest in it. At their most obvious, even
banal, they simply italicize literal meanings (“What is the strange news that
Cornwall has heard” [II.i.87]?).2 Others, though, are expected to stimulate
significant thought about the way Shakespeare worked (e.g., “How can
Lear’s relationship with Goneril and his own daughters be taken as rep¬
resentative of all father-daughter bonds?”). The labor of composing over
eight hundred questions for twenty-seven of the plays led to the discovery
of what I call the “mirror” principle—or, more accurately, I should say, to
“my” discovery of it. Surely the mirror conceit is at least as ancient as the
medieval church, where liturgy was thought of as a mirror to life. By the
mirror principle, I mean that Shakespeare’s plays are viewed as the assem¬
bling of a finite set of motifs, situations, and characters into an almost in¬
finite set of mirror relations. The parallel plots in King Lear that tell the
story twice of faithful and unfaithful children offer a prime example. The
technique pervades the canon, however, down to and including even the
quips, puns, and equivocations of wordplay. Indeed the mirroring of one
situation through the “portraiture” of another (to use Prince Hamlet s
wor(l—V.ii.78) creates the illusion of depth and profundity in Shake¬
speare’s work. Audience interaction with text converts that illusion into
a reality.
Shakespeare, in other words, not only writes about people and events;
even more, he manipulates them to create dramatic effects in the mind of
his spectator. Hence it is more intelligent to study his structural tactics than
to attempt resolutions of the myriad riddles and crypto-puzzles they
spawn. For example, the old (and unanswerable) question of whether King
Lear is about the triumph of life over death, or of death over life, is less im¬
portant than the new (and relatively answerable) question of how Shake¬
speare planted that quandary in the spectator’s or reader’s mind. Glouces¬
ter’s “As flies to wanton boys are we to th gods (IV.i.36) creates an invei se
mirror effect in Edgar’s reassuring “The gods are just... (V.iii.l71). As in
so many of the plays, the contrarieties of King Lear have literally been
done with mirrors in a kind of Shakespearean magic show.
52 TEACHING A PLURAL WORK PLURALISTICALLY

With some justice, perceptive colleagues will find all this too formalistic
in its elevation of dramaturgy over theme. Theme, however, springs from
dramaturgy, just as character comes from plot, not the other way around. At
the least the approach offers a formula for riveting attention on Shake¬
speare’s text rather than on our own.
Finally, I also felt that in printed form these questions would offer a basis
for discussion and for the free exploration in class of matters of greater im¬
portance. The questions equip students to be structuralists but do not pre¬
vent them from becoming poststructuralists. Here is a sampler from the
Mirror (283-86), using the third act of King Lear:

Act Three

1. Ill.i offers another example of a scene that serves narrative

more than the dramatic ends as the “Gentleman” describes the mad
behavior of the old King (III.i.4 f£). Kent (now disguised as Caius)
hears how Lear strives “in his little world of man” (III.i. 10) to
“outscorn” the elements. References to a “bear,” “lion,” and “wolf,”
also typical of the animal imagery of the play, suggest a world in
which men are reduced to beasts (cf. Regan as “serpent-like”
[II.iv.161]; both sisters as “tigers” [IV.ii.40]; and Albany’s “Humanity
must perforce prey on itself, / Like monsters of the deep” [IV.ii.49]).
How does this scene also prepare the way for Lear’s appearance
in Ill.ii?
2. In Ill.ii Lear’s cosmic language links the “little world of man”
with the storm on the heath. Would there have been sound effects on
the Elizabethan stage to supplement this language? What cinematic
techniques are used in the Peter Rrook film to supplement Shake¬
speare’s words? Compare the Fool’s song (Ill.ii.74) with Feste’s in TN
(V.i.389). The hospitable interior world of TN has been replaced by
the pitiless exterior world of the “Wind and the rain.” What dramatic
or thematic significance is implied in the lines by Lear’s Fool, “Here’s
a night pities neither wise men nor fools” (Ill.ii. 12); and Lear’s “I am
a man / More sinn’d against than sinning” (III.ii.59) and “My wits
begin to turn” (III.ii.67)?
3. The brief Ill.iii informs us that Gloucester has been mistreated
by Cornwall and Regan who have usurped his home. What is the
irony in Gloucester’s confiding to Edmund that he now leans toward
the king?

5. With the entry of Edgar as “mad Tom” (III.iv.39), the style of

speech, though in fact obligated to Samuel Harsnett’s A Declaration
 Kenneth S. Rothwell 53

of Egregious Popish Impostures (1603), begins to take on “apocalyp¬

tic” features—broken syntax, vivid imagery, discontinuity in thought,
allusiveness, hints of imminent disclosure of truth. How does this
style fit the major themes of Lr.? How does “mad Tom” mirror, or
echo, the other Fool in the play both in character and function?
6. Comment on the meaning of Lear’s great line, “unaccom¬
modated man is no more but such a poor, bare, fork’d animal, as thou
art” (III.iv.106). Is there any metaphysical significance to the line,
“What is the cause of thunder?” (III.iv.155)? In what sense does this
line, as Professor Elton argues in King Lear and the Gods, reflect the
concept of a “vanishing God” (Deus ahsconditus)? In what ways is
this similar to “Terras Astraea reliquit” in Tit. (IV.iii.4)?

10. With the parting words “And I’ll go to bed at noon” (III.vi.85),
Lear’s Fool vanishes never to reappear again. Has his role been
usurped by the “counterfeiting” (III.vi.61) poor Tom? Or, was the
actor needed to double as Cordelia (cf. V.iii.306)? On what basis does
Edgar compare himself with Lear (III.vi.102 ff.) at the close of
this scene?
11. In Ill.vi, explain the significance of the mock trial. Does it
have “metatheatrical” implications? Compare with Falstaff and Hal in
1H4 II.iv.376 ff. Has Lear’s language begun to deteriorate? Is it mov¬
ing toward the “apocalyptic” like Tom’s? Can Lear’s question. Is
there any cause in nature that make these hard hearts” (Ill.vi.77), be
taken as a vein of skepticism about divine order?
12. The frightfully cruel scene (Ill.vii) in which Gloucester is
blinded by Cornwall employs “Senecan” elements to make a scathing
commentary on the nature of evil in man. Is there any moral justifica¬
tion for the blinding of Gloucester, or is this another example (e.g.,
the stocking of Kent) of good causes being rewarded by wicked ef¬
fects? In short, what is the connection between cause and effect?
What is the point of having the servant attack Cornwall and then die
by Regan’s hand? At III.vii.84, does Gloucester resemble Sophocles’
Oedipus? In what ways is Gloucester’s tragedy a reenactment of
Lear’s? Comment on Regan’s line, “. . . let him smell / His way to
Dover” (III.vii.93).

Act Four

1. In IV.i, how do the references to Gloucester’s blindness ad¬

vance the theme of sight vs. sightlessness (IV.i. 19 ff.)? Is Gloucester’s
despairing (and non-Christian) comment, “As flies to wanton boys
are we to th’ gods” (IV.i.36), merely a personal expression of his own
54 TEACHING A PLURAL WORK PLURALISTICALLY

fate, or a theme statement for the whole play? For a precisely oppos¬
ing view, as pointed out by Michael Goldman, compare with Edgar’s
“The gods are just” (V.iii.171 ff.). How does Gloucester’s experience
in unknowingly having his own son lead him to Dover (IV.i.55)
parallel, or mirror, Lear’s relationship with his daughters?

Sets of questions such as these can also be assigned to subgroups in the

class to ensure that the elusive “lively and spontaneous discussion” will
occur at a subsequent class meeting. They are also helpful in assigning
papers built around the mirror principle. Close specifications for papers
forestall plagiarism, a nightmarish problem in Shakespeare studies with its
avalanche of published commentary. Requiring students to pick a key
passage and then show how it mirrors other portions of the text thwarts
derivative work by restricting the assignment to close explication. To that
end, as set forth elsewhere (“Programs”), I have constructed a heuristic
framework of questions to be thought about, though not necessarily
answered seriatim (indeed the latter is to be discouraged). For example, a
student may decide to write about the old king’s lamentation over the body
of Cordelia: “Do you see this? Look on her! Look her lips, / Look there,
look there!” (V.iii.311-12). Those lines then should be thought and written
about in the context of one or more of the following questions:

1. What is the simple meaning of the passage (questions of its signif¬

icance can come later on)? That may involve the definition of difficult,
or archaic, words, for example, misprision, point device, presently, or
vouchsafe.
2. In what context does the passage occur—that is, Who are the charac¬
ters involved? What are they doing? How did they get there? What are
they wearing? etc.
3. What are Shakespeare’s strategies for breathing life into the charac¬
ters? through their own dialogue? opinions of other characters? non¬
verbal gestures?
4. Are there words or phrases that echo, mirror, reflect, or reverberate off
similar images elsewhere in the same play? At this stage, students are
entitled to know about Marvin Spevack’s one-volume Harvard Concor¬
dance to Shakespeare, a treasure trove for image hunters.
5. What major contribution does the passage make to the overall artistic
design of the play? To look at the matter from another perspective,
would it make any difference if the passage were deleted by an adven¬
turous stage or screen director?
6. Do any comparisons or contrasts with similar designs, motifs, or scenes
in this or other plays come to mind?
 Kenneth S. Rothwell 55

7. What “personal transaction” can you make with the passage and/or
play?

The plural King Lear exists, however, not only on the page of the printed
book but on stage and screen as well. Outside of major urban areas, few op¬
portunities exist for viewing live Shakespeare performances, hence the
need for home-brewed resources. To that end, each Friday a subgroup of
my class, aided, cajoled, and coached by a student intern, performs a scene
or two, using rudimentary props and costumes—perhaps a blackboard
sketch to suggest a castle, or, as in a memorable Tempest, a cast outfitted in
T-shirts emblazoned with the word “Bermuda.” More cautious teachers
might consider a variant scheme that I have tried: to videotape a scene or
two at the university television station with the help of student volunteers.
Much can be learned about filmmaking, and the laundered results can be
safely exposed to classroom viewing.
Cinema and television have added yet another powerful weapon to the
pedagogical arsenal—Shakespeare on screen. Since 1971, four important
films and/or videotapes of King Lear have been produced, the first
released being the Grigori Kozintsev Russian-language (English subtitles)
version, starring Yuri Jarvet in the title role. Shortly thereafter Peter Brook
released his movie remake of the 1962 Royal Shakespeare Company pro¬
duction, which, as in the film, starred Paul Scofield (see Hetherington). A
decade later, following what seems to be a trend in screen treatments of
King Lear, two video versions appeared, again almost at the same time. The
first was Jonathan Miller’s 1982 BBC-TV/Time-Life King Lear starring
Michael Hordern, one in a series known as The Shakespeare Plays, widely
shown in the United States on public television. Hard on its heels in 1983
came the Granada Television King Lear, directed by Michael Elliott and
starring Laurence Olivier.
If universities had Pentagon-sized budgets and students the stamina, all
four versions of King Lear could be screened in a ten-hour orgy to reveal
the plurality of interpretation that any Shakespeare text invites. Since
neither contingency exists, tough choices must be made. Of the two films
(not the videotapes by Miller and Elliott), Kozintsev s is the least utilitarian
for classroom use. Despite stirring music by Dmitri Shostakovich and trans¬
lation of Shakespeare’s English into Russian by Boris Pasternak,
Kozintsev’s film proves less appealing to typical undergraduates than does
Brook’s. By committing an act of double translation—from English into
Russian and from drama to movie, Kozintsev sufficiently liberated himself
for almost purely cinematic re-creation of King Lear. In this respect he
produced a masterpiece of filmed Shakespeare comparable to Akira
Kurosawa’s Japanese-language Macbeth (Throne of Blood). These cine-
56 TEACHING A PLURAL WORK PLURALISTICALLY

matic virtues notwithstanding, most persons will then turn to the English-
language Brook version, for ignorance of Russian can obscure the delights
of the Pasternak translation.
Writing of the Kozintsev and Brook films, Jack J. Jorgens in his influen¬
tial Shakespeare on Film points out that the two versions represent “two
King Lears’’: Kozintsev’s “a story of redemption and social renewal” (237),
Brook’s “a bleak existential tale of meaningless violence in a cold, empty
universe” (236). Brook has filtered King Lear through the sensibility of the
auteur and visualized the verbal in exciting but controversial ways.
Godardian devices of cinematic alienation, overtones of Brechtian epic
theater, echoes of Artaud’s Theatre of Cruelty and Jan Kott’s Shakespeare
Our Contemporary identify the film with the early-seventies Vietnam era.
The use of silent film subtitles, rapid acceleration, and lopsided frames (at
the end Paul Scofield as King Lear literally falls out of the frame)—all
reminiscent of Sergei Eisenstein’s Potemkin—turn Lear’s world into an
apocalyptic vision of the postholocaust era. A Mister Kurtz with a white
beard, the old king prefigures the Marlon Brando of Apocalypse Now. It is a
world, as someone once said, that “Shakespeare intrudes on.” Students and
teacher return to the printed text motivated to analyze the radical ways this
imaginative director has transformed words into pictures.
The two recent television productions mentioned above are available on
videocassette. As is so often the case, Shakespeare on television may reveal
either more or less to the viewer than is possible in the living theater.
Reviewing the BBC version, for example, one King Lear scholar, Steven
Urkowitz, wrote that the actors’ “words are unconnected to what we see
happening on the screen” (“King Lear without Tears” 2). When Michael
Hordern as the king tells Cordelia that his “tears do scald like molten lead,”
his eyes are dry. Ironically, however. Miller, the imaginative director,
sought to emphasize actors’ faces and words by presenting the production
in a “spare, tightly focused fashion” (publicity release, 1982). Settings were
designed to be deliberately rudimentary—crumpled black cloths to sug¬
gest the desolation of the heath, ” while the Jacobean costumes are almost
entirely “in black, grey and white.” Miller’s choice of costumes is not as
anachronistic as one might think; rather, it is an attempt to recapture the
ambience of Shakespeare’s playhouse where the actors often wore con¬
temporary rather than period dress. In its fidelity to the Peter Alexander
text, this King Lear runs three hours, which demands a commitment from
both students and teachers. In the context of a production actually
designed for students rather than for passive viewers, Michael Hordern in
the title role displays his usual quietly expert style. Managing exaltation
without flamboyance, Hordern achieves a high seriousness appropriate to
the occasion. With Hordern is a fine supporting cast that includes veteran
 Kenneth S. Rothwell 57

Shakespearean actor Frank Middlemass as the Fool and Penelope Wilton

as Regan.
The 1983 Granada Television King Lear, directed by Michael Elliott and
starring Laurence Olivier, vindicates Peter Ustinov s wraparound re¬
marks for the January 1984 premiere on national television that no other
production of King Lear ever had a better cast.3 Robert Lindsays Edmund
is a silky villain; David Threlfall’s Edgar, passionately sincere; Colin
Blakely’s Kent, rough-hewn; Leo McKern’s Gloucester, an endearing bum¬
bler; John Hurt, a winsome Fool. The three daughters are superb: Diana
Rigg, a cruel and sadistic Regan; Dorothy Tutin (curiously reminiscent of
Irene Worth in the Brook film), a shrewd and calculating Goneril; and
Anna Calder-Marshall, an angelic Cordelia.
At the center, however, is Olivier. Few will miss the self-referentiality
that casts the aging monarch of the English-speaking theater in the role of
King Lear. In an astonishing display of stamina for a man of his years, aided
and abetted apparently by judicious reaction shots when he tired (Perret
1), Olivier employs his uncannily resourceful voice to wring surprising
nuances from almost every word he speaks. His lest it may mar your for¬
tune” to Cordelia does things with mar and fortune most speakers would
never even begin to think of. His nonverbal gestures, like those of the other
actors in this production, provide a storehouse for showing how Shake¬
spearean language prompts stage business. After Cordelia s Nothing, my
lord,” Olivier’s hand cups his ear and moves to his mouth both to reinforce
Shakespeare’s words and to express feelings that go beyond even Shake¬
speare’s language. In the division-of-the-kingdom scene when Goneril and
Regan seek to outdo each other in flattering the old king, Goneril slavishly
bows to Lear only to have Regan go her one better by both bowing and
kissing the king’s hand.
These ocular virtues are partially undercut, however, by the deletions
needed to compress the action into two hours and thirty minutes. A speech
sliced in half may result in somebody’s favorite line vanishing, such as
Albany’s “Humanity must perforce prey on itself, / Like monsters of the
deep” (IV.ii.49). In other instances whole scenes (e.g., IV.iii and IV.iv) dis¬
appear. There are also inexplicable alterations, which seem to be rooted
neither in the notorious discrepancies between quarto and First Folio texts
nor in any obvious anxiety to modernize the language. One sometimes sus¬
pects lapses by the actors—for example, think for look at l.iy.71; forgot for
mistook at II.iv.ll; and remission for remotion at II.iv.114.
In color, the Granada version turns a studio set into a fairly convincing
landscape for the scenes of the old king wandering the moors, where at one
point he decks himself in flowers and sacrificially consumes the entrails of
a quivering rabbit raw. The fertility of that landscape, which contrasts with
58 TEACHING A PLURAL WORK PLURALISTICALLY

the sterility of the Brook and Miller envisionments, endows the text with a
redemptive sense. Olivier, looking cherubic after being shorn of his white
beard, as though he had come full circle from old age to infancy, joins Cor¬
delia for a final scene evocative of a pagan sacrifice. With both father and
daughter enrobed in pure white, the ritualized pattern of their deaths sug¬
gests the propitiation of dark gods. That motif is further underscored by the
Stonehenge-like settings framing the production, which, though shot en¬
tirely in a studio, also manages to provide a plausibly fertile green world
when the old king must deck himself with flowers. Even so, the gap be¬
tween the sham of the studio and the authenticity of Shakespeare’s
language is never quite bridged. Whatever its drawbacks, however, simply
having the record of Laurence Olivier in performance gives the produc¬
tion an enduring value.
The plurality of King Lear, then, as it appears on the page, on the stage,
and on the screen, emerges in multiple ways to provide a never-ending
series of challenges and opportunities for teachers and students alike.

NOTES
Portions of this article have been adapted from previous work I have published
in Teaching Notes and the Leaflet (see Works Cited).
2A11 citations of Shakespeare’s works are from the Evans edition.
3The Olivier King Lear received its American premiere at the New York
City Museum of Broadcasting in spring 1983, as a part of the Britain Salutes
New York Festival.
SPECIFIC APPROACHES

An Approach through Theme:

Marriage and the Family
Lynda E. Boose

No play of Shakespeare’s—and perhaps no work in literature is as pain¬

fully difficult to teach as is King Lear. None prompts as much agony-
personal, metaphysical, and pedagogical—as does the play that John Keats
defined as “the fierce dispute / Betwixt damnation and impassioned clay”
(lines 5-6 of “On Sitting down to read King Lear Once Again”). While
everything about Hamlet’s situation makes him a figure with whom
students can readily identify, almost nothing in the experience of Lear s
tragic hero invites such parallels. In preparing to teach the play, one cannot
avoid being conscious of the unbridgeable gap between our students’ ex¬
perience of life and the enormous age and pain of the irascible old king
who is himself responsible for most of the suffering and for whom there is
no time left in which to make amends, begin again, or redeem the past—no
opportunity, in other words, to do any of those things that our students
youth, their middle-class affluence, and the optimistic premises of their
American culture assume to be inalienable rights. Even deciding to teach
this awesome play is painful, for it compels the instructor to send students
on a journey that will be filled with repeated loss, disappointment, and
seemingly limitless suffering. Lear’s challenge to the storm-“Pour on, I
will endure”—all too accurately defines the response the play demands of
its readers. Yet through the old king’s paradigm of pain and endurance, the
readers, the actors, and the characters they play ultimately do come

59
60 AN APPROACH THROUGH THEME: MARRIAGE AND THE FAMILY

together in a synonymity of experience—one defined by the tough

heroism explicit in Lear’s eulogy: “the wonder is he [and we] have endured
so long” (V.iii.315; this and subsequent quotations of Lear are from Muir’s
Arden edition).
Approaching King Lear from the perspective of marriage and the family
has the particular advantage of providing students with a familiar ref¬
erence point. But, furthermore, such an approach actually roots the play in
the center of its tragic maelstrom. For in Lear, family issues are less a reflec¬
tion of those in the political world than they are the genesis of them. The
spotlight King Lear places on the family should be evident from the way
conversations about the kingdom are repeatedly interrupted and displaced
by those that thrust family rivalry—specifically, sibling competition for the
father’s love—to the center of the stage. In the opening scene, first the
presence of Edmund and the subject of his bastardy versus Edgar’s
legitimacy usurp Gloucester’s and Kent’s anxieties about the forthcoming
division; next, the competition among the king’s three daughters again
usurps the political issue and reduces the kingdom to merely a prize within
the family game of “who loves the parent most”—a game with which any¬
one who grew up with siblings may be all too familiar.
Approaching the text through a focus on family issues enables a teacher
to use any of several critical methodologies: archetypal, psychoanalytical,
ritual, feminist, historical, structural, or a combination of several of these.
Since the family is an institution with a definable structure of rules, it seems
appropriate to study its significance in Lear by analyzing how the play’s
characters and narrative design dramatize the inherent codes of family—
the rituals, taboos, distributions, and hierarchies that themselves depend
on age, positional relationship, and gender.
The organization of the Elizabethan family and the society it mirrored
was, like our own, patriarchal and patrilineal, transmitting authority and
kinship through only the father. Unlike the contemporary family, however,
it also transferred inheritance through primogeniture, a design that al¬
lowed the family to retain material power intact by passing it exclusively
through the first male child. Social historian Lawrence Stone has defined
the aristocratic sixteenth-century family as governed by a paternal authori¬
tarianism through which the husband and father lorded it over his wife
and children with the quasi-absolute authority of a despot” (Crisis 591).
Families in Lear fit Stone’s definition. In terms of the play’s reiterated prin¬
ciples of judicial distribution and division, the world of King Lear is a world
of patriarchy, asymmetrical distribution, and polarization that divides like-
gendered siblings, wife and husband, and fathers from children of either
sex. And the text structurally accentuates the negative effects of the
authoritarian patriarchy by its elimination of mothers and its refraction of
the patriarchal image into a double-plot symmetry that places two such
 Lynda E. Boose 61

families, one consisting of father and daughters and the other of father and
sons, into mirror relation.
In each of the two plots, the children are divided into the starkly
archetypal categories of good and bad. Though in both plots the fathers ini¬
tially love their good child best, they disastrously reverse their judgment,
disinherit and cast out the good child, and in anger endow the bad ones.
Also in both, however, even supplanting the favored child and getting all
the father owns leaves the unfavored ones unsatisfied. For after they have
acquired all, the evil children turn from the rationally explicable goal of
self-acquisition to an irrational lust to deprive that is enacted in forms of
gratuitous violence against the father, against the sibling who has already
been dispossessed, and, in the Lear plot, even against one another. Lear s
‘pelican daughters” and Gloucester’s bastard son have an insatiable greed
for power, inheritance, and titular rule that masks, by implication, a set of
more primal, inarticulate needs lurking potently beneath the text of this
play like its “monsters from the deep.” Ultimately, the needs of the unloved
and the illegitimate express themselves in inverted forms of desire aimed
symbolically against genital acts of fathering: thrusting the father and the
child he favored out of the house and locking its gates, draining him of all
he possesses and preventing him from begetting the fortune of the rival
sibling, and violently castrating his authority by cutting off his knightly
train” (Willbern 245), clawing out his eyes, and emasculating his psychic
image of virility. Eventually, Edmund even seeks to kill Lear, and Regan
seeks to maim Gloucester as the insatiable rage of the neglected child
overwhelms the play and vents itself indiscriminately against the world of
the fathers.
In its exploration of the good-and-bad-child motif, King Lear goes far
beyond the archetypal sibling dichotomy of the fairy tale, for it inscribes
the image of filial monstrosity inside the context of an inverted quest for
love. The quest is horrifically savage, yet it nonetheless rings with a pathos
we cannot miss in the dying Edmund’s wish to construe the evil sisters
murderous lust for him as an affirmation that “Yet Edmund was belov’d”
(V.iii.238). It is not only the apportioning of justice and material goods that
Lears world of patriarchal rule has “ta’en too little care of” nor only those
commodities that cry out for a “distribution to undo excess.’ The play s
repeated quantifications of “more” and less, all and nothing, ac¬
cumulation and dispossession, continually rephrase the point that the
power to bestow or abate, enlarge or scant, whether measured by the size
of a kingdom or the number of knights, represents, on its most important
level, the power to confer or withhold love.
While not only Lear and Gloucester but most of Shakespeare s fathers
clearly fit Lawrence Stone’s authoritarian model, family relations in the
plays do not match Stone’s related thesis that the Elizabethan family vir-
62 AN APPROACH THROUGH THEME: MARRIAGE AND THE FAMILY

tually lacked emotional bonds. And while Stone’s contention that second
and third sons were of negligible value seems accurately reflected in the
Gloucester family, his assertion that daughters “were often unwanted and
might be regarded as no more than a tiresome drain on the economic
resources (Family 121) is clearly inadequate to describe the father-
daughter relationship either in this play or in the twenty-one others of
Shakespeare where it occurs. Perhaps historians have been overhasty to
infer that, since the daughter was the least economically useful member of
a patrilineal and primogenitural institution, she was also the least desired.
Instead of measuring what the daughter does not materially contribute to
the family, we might consider just what she threatens to subtract from it.
For if she is classified as the family’s most expendable member, it may be
because she is actually its least retainable. To an institution that fears loss,
the daughter’s presence by definition constitutes a threat to its main¬
tenance of closed boundaries. She is always the transitory member of the
group and is thus analogous to what social anthropologist Victor Turner
defines as a “liminal” or threshold person within cultural space (94-130),
whose very presence asserts a breach in the genealogical fence of family
enclosure. In multiple ways, she signifies all that the father desires and
simultaneously cannot have. She exists only to be lost—or, as Polonius
recognizes about Ophelia, I have a daughter—have while she is mine”
(Hamlet II.ii.106).
If we consider what myths or rituals define Western culture’s authoriza¬
tion of a son’s or a daughter’s independence, we will discover a telling dif¬
ference. The son’s struggle for individuation is legitimized within mythol¬
ogized stories that at once reassuringly narrate the prodigal son’s inevi¬
table return and simultaneously threaten the father with usurpation. The
biblical tales of the prodigal son and of King Herod, the Cronos-Zeus and
the Oedipus myths, Freud’s theory of the primal horde, and Shakespeare’s
Henry IV dramas describe the son’s circular pattern and its accompanying
threat a pattern that is implicit anyway in a patrilineal system of family or
a religious structure in which the Son is simultaneously the Father.
Gloucester’s immediate willingness to believe that his firstborn and fa¬
vored son Edgar secretly contemplates patricide is understandable when
placed in context of the father-son myths that prophesy it. Nor does the
prophecy go unfulfilled in King Lear. For within the structure of the play,
the agent of old Gloucester’s death is indeed the guiltless Edgar: appro¬
priately enough, the father s heart, caught between the extremes of joy and
grief, “bursts smilingly” at the instant he learns that the armed man kneel¬
ing for blessing who has guided his enfeebled steps is no other than the son
who will replace him.
One of the challenges in teaching Shakespeare is to get students to go
beyond making black-white moral distinctions and discover the less ob-
 Lynda E. Boose 63

vious similarities that can be obscured by apparent difference. Since

students invariably, if unconsciously, draw on their own experience of
family when analyzing the filial patterns in a text, they may gain greater in¬
sight into conflicts in their own families by realizing the extent to which a
character’s needs and ends are predetermined by factors like gender and
positional order. Once readers realize that the apparent difference sep¬
arating legitimate and firstborn Edgar from illegitimate Edmund is a dis¬
tinction that is nearly erased by Shakespeare’s choice of character names
so similar as to invite transposition, they may be able to see the structural
parallels that bring these two characters together and imply a common
humanity. The two sons follow one pattern, perhaps best defined as the
pattern of the son. Having been cast out by the father and displaced by the
rival brother, each struggles violendy to get back into the family enclosure
and inherit the privileges of the father—the father’s name, titles, and
designation as his replacement—the very privileges that, by the law of
primogeniture, structurally preclude the possibility of brotherly love and
set up the competitive, ultimately fratricidal rivalry that this drama plays out.
Whereas both the favored and the unfavored son ultimately pursue the
same goal of appropriating the paternal holdings, the three daughters have
names and patterns that more strongly distinguish them according to the
loved-unloved dichotomy. The two wicked daughters are bound together
by their names as well as their needs, for “Regan” is no more than an ab¬
breviated anagram for her older sister, “Goneril,” while ‘ Cordelia stands
alone and carries a name that allusively suggests the heart. As distinct from
the favored son, what the daughter who has been loved tangibly needs
from the paternal storehouse is actually best expressed by Cordelia’s
“nothing.” What she needs is not appropriation of the father’s name and
titles along with a bequest that will fix her within his house as heir to his
identity but, in fact, a release from the father’s structure and permission to
pass out of it.
Should students search for myths that authorize a daughter s departure
from the father’s house or foretell her displacement of his authority, they
will be hard pressed to find any. The daughter figures prominently in
folktales, but traditionally she must wait within the father’s castle to be
liberated by a prince who wrests her from her implied captivity. In¬
variably, the daughter’s independence is preceded by triangulation that
places her between the father and the rescuing lover. Because her depar¬
ture is a separation and a genuine passage outward, it is not contained
within the circle of return and thus requires a more potent form of
authorization than does the son’s. Instead of merely being narrated, it is en¬
acted with a form defined by Arnold van Gennep as a rite of passage, a
specific category of ritual that contains three sequentially fixed phases
classified as separation, transition, and reincorporation.
64 AN APPROACH THROUGH THEME: MARRIAGE AND THE FAMILY

The church marriage service—which has changed negligibly since

Shakespeare’s time and is as familiar to us as it was to him—constitutes the
separation phase, which severs the daughter from the retentive father and
authorizes her transition into a new identity as wife. Viewed from the
perspective of its ritual implications, the separation of daughter from father
is, in fact, what the marriage service is about. It contains the paradigm of all
the conflicts that define the father-daughter bond and reassert their power
precisely at the moment of ritual resolution.
A detailed analysis of the symbolic implications of the marriage rite and
their relevance to King Lear is available elsewhere in my work. By focusing
on the structure of this familiar ritual, however, students may themselves
be able to see why, throughout his career, Shakespeare used it as the key
dramaturgical subtext of his father-daughter relations. They may also see
why, as a consequence of the truth of symbolic logic, ritual custom dictates
that the one who bears the cost of a wedding is, by definition, the father of
the bride. What the ceremony authorizes is not, as it might seem, the
transfer of a passive female object from one male to another. The ritual is a
communal coercion of the father that forces him to deliver to God’s agent a
daughter whom he has not touched and whom, at the altar, he must
transfer as a gift to the rival male who stands at her other side. Once he has
done so, the ritual script forces him to acknowledge that his role in both the
ceremony and his daughter’s life is ended: he must retire from the stage
and, sitting mutely in the audience, watch her forsake his name and the
family he governs as she transfers her commitment to “obey, serve, love,
honor, and keep” (Booty’s edition of the 1559 Book of Common Prayer
292) to his replacement, the male whom the service privileges as the
violator of sexual taboos the father has been forced to observe. And lest the
importance of these ritual father-daughter dynamics be regarded as merely
a historical anachronism, it helps students to recognize that, even in our
own time, when women hardly feel they need their fathers’ permission to
marry, daughters still choose to reenact the same ritual, virtually un¬
changed. The psychological significance of a daughter’s departure from
her patrilineal house still dominates the way we feel about—and therefore
enact—a ceremony that ostensibly seems designed only to unite the bride
and groom.
A major problem students often have with King Lear is understanding
Cordelia’s stance in the opening scene, the event that sets the tragedy in
motion. To them, it frequently seems that, regardless of Goneril’s and
Regan s obvious flattery, Cordelia’s determination to yield “nothing” to a
father who only wants reassurance of her love is indicative of a coldly un¬
compromising nature. What Lear is really attempting to do (and why his
request is not as harmless as it seems) should be clear once the wed-unwed
distinctions among the sisters and the significance of Cordelia’s pending
 Lynda E. Boose 65

marriage are taken into account. In this crucial scene, the issue of dividing
the kingdom is repeatedly conflated with that of marriage, which divides
daughters from their paternal family. In fact, Lear has called his court
together for the announced intent of performing two seemingly unrelated
divestitures: to allocate his kingdom as his “daughters’ several dowers
(I.i.43) and at last to give Cordelia in marriage to one of her two princely
suitors who “Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, / And
here are to be answer’d”(46-47). When it is understood that the dowry
the material sign of a daughter’s separateness from her family—functioned
historically as a virtual prerequisite for her marriage, the contradiction in¬
herent in Lear’s demands should be evident. The pledges demanded by
the father as a dowry condition would psychologically invalidate the vows
to be “plighted” the husband, thus nullifying the daughter’s separation and
reconstructing it into a return to the father. When Cordelia defines the
contradiction in her wily father’s seemingly harmless request for love, she
illustrates it in her sisters’ statements and then links the plight of the
unwed daughter—who owes obedience to the father—to the plight of
troth” (or pledge of truth) designed to resolve it in the wedding:

Why have my sisters husbands, if they say

They love you all? Happily, 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. (I.i.98-103)

What Cordelia’s pending marriage has forced Lear to face and what the
aged, apparently widowed king is trying to forestall is the very human fear
of crawling toward death alone, unloved, and without family. It is the desire
to prevent this threat that motivates him to call together his whole family
and attempt to bind to him not only the loved child who is about to depart
but even the two unloved ones who have separated from him and owe
primary loyalties to husbands and homes of their own. Since the territory
he parcels out has clearly already been preallocated, his gambit of award¬
ing the “largest bounty” to the rhetorician who wins his land-for-love game
is false bait. It does, however, reflect his desire to reinclose all three
daughters within the psychic territory of paternal rule by setting them into
competition for the privileged position of loving him most. His kingdom is
the bait. When Goneril’s and Regan’s greed to acquire material signs of the
father’s love prompts them to pledge themselves “in all-but-incestuous
terms” (Barber 197), they do what Cordelia is determined not to do. They
acquire a “dowry” that, by uniting them with their father, severs them from
66 AN APPROACH THROUGH THEME: MARRIAGE AND THE FAMILY

their husbands and results in the psychic annulment that the play drama¬
tizes in both sisters’ marriages.
Instead of relinquishing his daughters, Lear has attempted a substitution
of paternal divestitures. To the two married sisters he has offered a dowry
that unmarries them; to Cordelia’s dowry he has attached terms designed
either way to prevent her from marrying. For Cordelia to accept his dowry
would negate her marriage; to refuse it leaves her dowerless and hence un¬
able to wed. Thus when Lear disinherits her, he casts her away not to let
her go but to prevent her from going. Likewise, his bequest of state is not
the transfer of rule it purports to be, for the self-deposed king clearly in¬
tends to retain monarchical power and “manage those authorities / That he
hath given away” (I.iii.18-19). And in this deliberate inversion of divesting
and dividing his public paternity in order to retain his private one intact,
Lear violates both spheres of patriarchal authority. From this scene on, in¬
verted images of Lear’s paternal relation to his daughters and his kingdom
pervade the drama through the king’s ceremonial invocations of sterility
against the daughters he has generated and the land he has ruled.
Once cued to notice the structural principles of inversion and circularity
that are set out in this first crucial scene, students can often trace the way
most of the important issues in the play recapitulate these designs. The
other defining design of the play is its ritual subtext; as students alert to this
point may themselves notice, the dialogue among Lear, Cordelia, and her
two suitors resonates with phrases and actions traditionally associated with
marriage. This subtext shapes our expectations of what should be happen¬
ing and allows us to recognize the parodic nature of what is in fact transpir¬
ing. While Cordelia and France appropriately echo the sacred language,
the father of the bride repeatedly violates it in his attempt to thwart the
linear movement of the daughter’s ritual passage and convert its forward
progression into a circular return back to him. Beneath Lear’s image of
fatherhood as the “barbarous Scythian, / Or he that makes his generation
messes / To gorge his appetite (115-17), lurks the monstrous appetite of
the father who devours the flesh he begets and thus converts even the act
of fathering into an expenditure that returns to feed him. The father’s un¬
natural appetite is implicit in the regression motive Lear reveals in his plan
to set his rest on Cordelia’s “kind nursery” (123), an image in which the
father has imaginatively returned to infancy and pictures himself nursing
from his own daughter—a sublimation that absorbs the guilty father’s
desires into the infant’s unconsciously oedipal ones and thus reestablishes
the father’s incestuous proximity to his daughter. The monstrous cycles of
appetite are the extension of the circular terms of Lear s dowry proposal.
And yet—in a paradox quintessentially Shakespearean—this monstrosity,
too, is born out of the retentive impulses of love.
 Lynda E. Boose 67

Cordelia’s departure with France seems to break the pattern of cir¬

cularity that holds the daughter in family bondage. But when we consider
that Cordelia returns at the end of the play and describes her life with
France as one of “mourning and importun’d tears” (IV.iv.26) for the father
to whom she is still psychologically bound, it becomes tragically apparent
that Lear’s refusal to obey the ritual and give up his daughter has effec¬
tively negated the daughter’s natural pattern and enclosed the family
within the sterile cipher of “Nothing.” Choosing father over husband, Cor¬
delia returns to ask him to “look upon me, Sir, / And hold your hand in
benediction o’er me” (IV.vii.57-58)—a plea that summarizes the inchoate
cries for love that emanate from every child and every parent in this play.
Through the dramatized inversion of ritual patterns, the play’s tragic cir¬
cles find their counterpart in the psychological needs that create them, and
the final scene stages the most sterile of family images: a dead father with
his three dead daughters, the wheel having come full circle back to echo
the opening scene.
The internecine violence released within the patriarchal world of King
Lear leads the institution of family to “within a foot / Of th extreme verge
(IV.vi.25-26); the only two who survive to emphasize its sterility are
Albany, a widower, and Edgar, an unmarried son. Sisters have killed sisters,
brothers, brothers; fathers have decreed the death of sons, sons of fathers;
daughters have maimed fathers, fathers cursed daughters into sterility;
wives have plotted to murder husbands. Even in acts of love, such as Cor¬
delia’s self-sacrifice and the poignant beauty of her reunion with Lear,
what is repeatedly scripted within the text is the compulsive self-
annihilation of the patriarchal family—an annihilation generated, paradox¬
ically, by the family’s possessive attempts to preserve itself intact.
Conspicuously absent from this play—as students will undoubtedly
note—has been the mediating presence of the mother. If readers search
her out, they will find that beneath the patriarchal text, she does exist
within an allusive “maternal sub-text” (Kahn) of images that associate the
maternal with ideas like pity, feeling sorrow, conception, and kind
nursery”—ideas that repeatedly connect her absence to a value structure
that is likewise missing from the brutal savagery of the King Lear universe.
She emerges overtly in Lear’s attempt to prevent tears at Regan’s humilia¬
tion of him, an attempt that images the expression of sorrow as a meta¬
phoric pregnancy beginning to swell to the heart and show, despite his ef¬
forts at suppression:

O! how this mother swells up toward my heart;

Hysterica passio! down, thou climbing sorrow!
Thy element’s below. (II.iv.54-56)
68 AN APPROACH THROUGH THEME: MARRIAGE AND THE FAMILY

Especially given the emphasis this drama places on the necessity to feel,
the absence of the maternal within Lear’s patriarchal kingdom becomes a
powerful metaphor for a fertility that must be conceived by the heart, an
image signifying all that, like the mother, is missing in the cruelly retribu¬
tive world of the play. The toughness of this drama takes its readers, as it
took Edgar, beyond the limits of imagined endurance; much as we would
like it to, it will not give us, even at its conclusion, any comforting models of
social or familial rebirth that we can pass out to our students as palliatives
for the experience of having suffered through it. Yet while a play may be
about its characters, it is for its audience/readers. And it is to the re¬
lationship between the audience or reader who is located outside the text
and the values that are absent from it that I turn at the conclusion of this
painful play. For, by leaving us with the latent image of pregnancy, the
image of “conceiving” announced in the play’s first pun (Li, 11), the play
implicitly poses a new and potentially generative circle. All that is meta¬
phorically subsumed by the maternal is absent from the text because it has
been located in the reader: our capacity to feel has been defined as the
womb where new conception must occur. And if the students we teach
have opened themselves to this powerful play’s seemingly implacable
determination to violate them and bring them to “feel what wretches feel,”
the play has implanted in them a particular ripeness, a conception that is
best modeled within the drama by Edgar’s willingness to define himself
as

A most poor man, made tame to Fortune’s blows;

Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity. (IV.vi.218-20)
 An Archetypal Approach
Ann E. Imbrie

The value of the archetypal approach to King Lear rests in its ability to
adapt to the demands of the individual teacher or course as well as to the
needs of a variety of students. For the teacher who favors discussion as the
primary classroom technique, this approach has the advantage of en¬
couraging participation among students of varying intellectual abilities and
degrees of literary sophistication. The archetypes themselves—many evok¬
ing memories of familial relationship—engage the personal experience of
even the most unsophisticated students; the ways in which Shakespeare
combines and subverts these archetypal patterns will suggest the play s
complexity to those students who bring greater literary expertise to their
study. The teacher who feels more comfortable with a lecture format will
find a wealth of material about which to generalize, both in the play itself
and in the major documents of archetypal theory from Carl Jung to
Northrop Frye. In addition, because archetypal criticism tends generally
toward comparative analysis, the approach suits in-class oral reports and
outside reading assignments, as well as paper topics that ask the students to
reach beyond the play to the patterns it shares with other literary works.
For the same reason, the identification of archetypal patterns provides ac¬
cess to the play’s difficulties when it is taught in introductory courses and
literary surveys or in genre courses (e.g., drama or tragedy). Furthermore,
because the archetypes can be contained and recognized in the play itself,
without necessary reference to other works of literature, this method aids
the teacher of King Lear in an undergraduate Shakespeare course as
well.
Before outlining some practical suggestions for using this approach in
the classroom, especially in directed discussion and in oral reports, I should
establish some definitions. I distinguish two distinct but related kinds of
archetypes present in the play. The first we may call the literary or artificial
archetype, defined by Northrop Frye as “a typical or recurring image
which connects one poem with another and thereby helps to unify and
integrate our literary experience (99). Such archetypes are conventions
that literature both creates and transmits. Examples of literary archetypes
in King Lear include the blind seer, the proud king s abasement (Horn-
stein), the suffering servant, the wise fool, the demon-god or dioboia (Bod¬
kin 326; see also Frye 147-49), the descent to the underworld, the demon¬
woman, the wheel (Wheelwright, Metaphor 125-27), the sacrificial victim
(pharmakos\) the tyrant-father, and many others. Unless one is teaching
King Lear in a larger literary context—say in a course in tragedy or myth—
the identification of such archetypes may fall to the teacher alone; because

69
70 AN ARCHETYPAL APPROACH

recognition of these conventions requires knowledge external to the play

itself, they may prove less successful subjects for discussion and discovery
by the students.
A second kind of archetype, however, which we may call the natural or
psychological archetype, is available to most students regardless of their
prior literary experience. These archetypes exist in our hearts, like some¬
thing we long for or have long forgotten, and, at least for practical purposes
in the classroom, establish connections not between one literary work and
another but between the readers’ personal experience and their ex¬
perience of a particular text. These archetypes tend to be located less in
particular images or symbols than in patterns of experience that the play
reproduces. In King Lear, I would distinguish three basic archetypes of
central importance that help define the relationships among the characters
and reveal the play’s structure: the parent-child relationship (the oedipal
father, the usurped parent, the rejected child), romantic love, and sibling
rivalry. For introducing and defining these psychological archetypes, I
have found it most useful to refer the students to highly conventionalized
popular literature, especially the fok and fairy tales, which, in Northrop
Frye’s terms, provide “an unobstructed view of archetypes” (116).
The English fairy tale “Caporushes” (Steel 280-89) offers the closest
analogue I know to the main plot of King Lear. It is probably best to assign
the short tale as outside reading or to ask a student to report on it, compar¬
ing the folktale with the play as a means of beginning discussion.
Caporushes presents a streamlined version of Lear’s opening scene,
reducing both its cast of characters and its psychological complexity to the
essentials: an aged father with three daughters, a love test, the rejection of
the youngest and most favored child because her expression of love seems
insufficient (“I love you as fresh meat loves salt,” she says). The tale, then,
follows the fortunes of the rejected daughter, who must prove herself in
the world by overcoming a series of obstacles before she wins the love of a
prince and is reunited with her father to live happily ever after. The aged
king himself suffers blindness before he learns the error of his ways and
recognizes the value of his rejected child, at which time his sight is
magically restored to him. The simplicity of the fairy tale directs the
students attention to the archetypal characterization in Shakespeare’s
play. Lear s irrational response, pinpointed carefully through the function
of Kent, is a familiar fairy-tale type, motivated by psychological impulses
deeper and more mysterious than those reason can explain. Similarly,
Goneril and Regan are not individuated any more than the wicked step¬
sisters are in Cinderella, of which Caporushes is a less familiar version.
An insistence on psychological realism, which many students expect from
having studied modern novels, can be an interpretive trap for students ap-
 Ann E. Imbrie 71

proaching King Lear for the first time; seeing the play as a fairy tale, at least
initially, can divert their expectations appropriately. Comparison between
King Lear and “Caporushes,” then, can preserve the fairy-tale simplicity of
Shakespeare’s play (and make the primitive setting and the feudal social
structure more immediate) while suggesting ways in which the dramatist
complicates the archetypal matrix he uses. Shakespeare complicates the
type of the wicked sisters by giving Goneril and Regan both some good
lines and some good insights. He also lifts out the sexual issues barely im¬
plicit in the fairy-tale love test by shading Goneril’s and Regan’s responses
to their father’s demands with romantic colors as well as by offering the
marriage auction for Cordelia’s hand as an immediate parallel to the love
test. In addition, he extends and deepens Lear’s character by developing
his “economic” definition of love (suggested in the fairy tale), which con¬
tinues throughout the play to provide a moral analogue to the fairy-tale
father’s physical blindness. Comparison with “Caporushes” will also raise
questions about the structure of Shakespeare’s play, particularly about the
relation between its two plots. The heroine of “Caporushes,” for example,
combines in herself both Cordelia and Edgar (she disguises herself in
“natural” weeds and accepts the abasement of poverty), just as the physical
blindness of the father figure in the fairy tale suggests both Lear and
Gloucester.
A less limiting way of introducing both the idea of the archetype and the
particular archetypes that underpin King Lear is to encourage the students
to produce their own fairy tale. Before they have even read the play, I
begin a discussion by starting the story off: “Once upon a time there was a
great king who had three daughters, the youngest of whom he loved best.
One day he decided to find out if they loved him in return, so he asked the
eldest, ‘How much do you love me?”’ I then ask each student in turn to
contribute a detail to the story until we come to the happily ever after
ending; students who are already familiar with the play are asked to ob¬
serve but not participate. Students must monitor one another by rejecting
and refashioning any detail that does not fit the fairy-tale pattern. Although
this exercise in the “collective unconscious has its dangers (one never
knows what the students will say), it has the advantage of illustrating con¬
cretely what an archetype is. Because students call forth the story as if from
memory, the teacher need not attempt abstract definitions of the concepts.
I have found surprising and fruitful conformity among the responses to this
exercise. Without fail, the most loved child is rejected; the ensuing story
traces her course toward recognition by the rejecting parent; through the
intervention of some magical force, the rejected child marries a handsome
prince and is reunited with her father; and all live happily ever after.
When, in a moment of self-conscious perversity, one student announced
72 AN ARCHETYPAL APPROACH

the untimely death of the heroine, he was booed—affectionately, of

course—by his classmates. Once the pattern of the fairy tale has been es¬
tablished, the students should then read the play. Through this process,
they will see immediately Shakespeare’s departures from the model and
can suggest sophisticated reasons for them.
Unlike the usual fairy tale, for example, King Lear focuses on the fate of
the rejecting parent rather than on that of the child, a departure from the
form that seems fully appropriate to the intended (adult) audience of the
play. As an “adult fairy tale,” King Lear locates the psychological and sexual
interest in the parent who must endure hardship in order to resolve inter¬
nal conflicts. Students are often surprised to learn that many psycho¬
analysts (e.g., Bettelheim) see the fairy tales as nonthreatening ways in
which the child can work out oedipal conflict, resulting in a purgation of
“dangerous” feelings not unlike catharsis. Students enjoy discovering an
adult analogue in King Lear, in which the father entertains incestuous
longings for his daughter; hence, the violence of his initial rejection of her
(according to “Caporushes,” because “he always loved her best”), his sex¬
ual revulsion in IV.vi, and Cordelia’s insistence throughout the play on
maintaining the appropriate relationship between father and daughter (“I
love your Majesty / According to my bond, no more, no less”; “Why have
my sisters husbands if they say / They love you all?”). That Cordelia marries
France at the beginning of the play—rather than at the end after having
endured hardships as the heroine of a fairy tale would—suggests as well
that the oedipal conflict is located in the father. The daughter is already
prepared for a romantic attachment to a man of her own generation. The
familiar patterns of the fairy tale, then, can suggest in the structure of King
Lear a play of one set of archetypes (the unconditional familial bond, the
child’s resistance to the parent, the parent’s fear of usurpation by the child)
against another (appropriate romantic love). This same conflict of arche¬
types can help define the two sisters’ relationship with their father, on the
one hand, and with their husbands on the other, as well as the adulterous
triangle of Edmund-Goneril-Regan. Lear’s “Come, let’s away to prison” is
the “happily ever after” ending he envisions for himself and his daughter-
wife, a sentimental ending this adult fairy tale cannot allow (Mack 113-14).
It remains for the final scene with its pieta of the grieving father (an em¬
blem if not exactly an archetype), to resolve this archetypal conflict be¬
tween generations on which the play is structured.
Using the typical fairy-tale structure as a way of approaching the com¬
plexities of King Lear can also raise significant thematic issues. In the usual
fairy tale, the world seems stacked against the good child, and the story re¬
quires the intervention of some magical force to tip the balance in the
child s favor. To the young audience of the fairy tale, this motif builds con¬
fidence in the workings of the world, and the magic is finally not unreason-
 Ann E. Imbrie 73

able because it is psychologically necessary. The absence of the gods in

King Lear (for “gods” read “fairy godmother” or some magical force) again
locates the play firmly in a more realistic adult world. The gods may not kill
us for their sport, but neither do they protect us—a recognition that forces
on adults a sense of responsibility for their own choices, a central theme in
the play. Similarly, the poetic justice of the “happily ever after” ending of
fairy tales, in which the good are rewarded and the wicked punished, ap¬
peals to the child’s innocent respect for justice. G. K. Chesterton’s remark
that children love justice because they have not lived long enough to
desire mercy provides an appropriate explanation for the inversion in King
Lear of a just order. The child’s sense of justice flavors Lear’s naive cer¬
tainty that he is “a man more sinned against than sinning”—“So what?’ we
adults ask, somewhat cynically. Similarly, the grace of Cordelia’s “No cause,
no cause” suggests the adult’s will to mercy. If there is fairy-tale magic or
justice in the play, it lies not in the organization of society at large or in the
ways of the world but in the care we take of one another. The enormity of
our pain at the end of the play may tell us that even as adults we still long
for the poetic justice of the fairy-tale world, simply because it is easier than
accepting the demands of personal relationship. Apparendy, Nahum Tate
could not relinquish that longing, and neither could generations of
playgoers. Students find it interesting that Tate’s King Lear, with its
romance plotting and happy ending, held the stage for over 150 years of
the play’s history. Compared to Shakespeare’s, Tate’s version of the story is
a child’s play, a literary fairy tale that reduces the play’s power by explicat¬
ing or removing the disturbing archetypes, making the story neat, reason¬
able, and overly particularized. Tate’s redaction can be used successfully
(again, through oral reports or outside reading assignments) to convince
students of the appropriate tragic realism of the original and to ensure the
tragic response the play demands.
The archetypal patterns of familial relationship will also illuminate the
versions of sibling rivalry in King Lear. In this archetype, as it is repre¬
sented in the fairy tales, siblings rival one another for the affection of the
parent, with the weak, despised, stupid, silent, or rejected (and usually the
youngest) child finally winning that recognition by defeating the other
siblings. This pattern defines the relationship among the three sisters in the
main plot; in addition, Goneril and Regan are clear 1 ivals, fii st struggling
not so much to win the father’s affection as to usurp his place and then try¬
ing to win Edmund’s love. Similarly, Edmund’s usurpation of his brother’s
birthright and his father’s status, familiar as an archetype through the Jacob
and Esau story, structures the familial relationship in the secondary plot.
Edgar, the despised child, wins out through patience and acceptance of his
lowly status, even as Cordelia takes her rightful place in her fathei s heart
by refusing to usurp his place as her sisters do. Thus, the sibling-rivalry
74 AN ARCHETYPAL APPROACH

archetypes highlight the relationship between the two plots. Although the
questions of primogeniture and legitimacy may seem distant issues to many
students, Edmund s villainy and his pride in his own bastardy can be
viewed with more understanding—and some sympathy—through refer¬
ence to the archetypal fear of adoption, a memory most students have and a
fear many children overcome, as Edmund does, through an assertion of
pride in their extrafamilial status. A complicated pattern of sympathy and
judgment of the two brothers in the subplot reflects Shakespeare’s mixture
of sibling-rivalry archetypes, his setting up of certain responses only to un¬
dermine them.
While the archetypal approach cannot confront equally well all the
issues in the play (e.g., the political and social satire), it seems to me es¬
pecially appropriate to the study of this particular play, surely the most ele¬
mental and as such the greatest if not the best of Shakespeare’s tragedies.
As Philip Wheelwright suggests, “Certain particulars have more of an
archetypal content than others: that is to say, they are ‘Eminent Instances’
... stirring in the soul something at once familiar and strange” (Burning
89). King Lear is one such “eminent instance,” both familiar and strange to
students asked to tackle it. The archetypal approach provides experiential
contact for the students with characters and situations otherwise removed
from their own—the primitive setting, a perverse and magnificent king
“four score years and upward,” a daughter too good to be true, and sisters
too wicked to believe—and can thus help them overcome the distance be¬
tween themselves and Lear by encouraging them to see a familiar univer¬
sality in the play’s arrangement of strange particulars. It allows for close
scrutiny of the text as well as for speculative and personal discussion. But
while this approach gives the students access to the play, in no way does it
diminish its mystery; in fact, because the “universal idea cannot be di¬
vorced from the given context, cannot be logically explicated, without dis¬
torting it” (Wheelwright, Burning 88), the archetypal approach collapses
under our experience of the play itself, freeing, without sufficiently ex¬
plaining, our responses of awe and compassion and grief.
 King Lear in a Literature Survey Course
Ann Paton

In a literature survey course with many nonmajors, connecting students

with the work is an ever-present challenge. One useful approach to teach¬
ing King Lear in such a course is to build on students’ experience as well as
on works previously studied, both ancient (the Bible, classical tragedy) and
modern (mystery plays, Everyman, Dr. Faustus), discussing archetypes as
well as theatrical, religious, and cultural traditions.
Students readily sense the “once upon a time” atmosphere of the play’s
first scene: once upon a time there was a king who had three daughters; the
youngest was the fairest of them all, and her two sisters hated her. Three is
the pervasive archetypal number: here are three daughters and a kingdom
divided into three parts. Among those present are the familiar suitors for
die hand of the youngest princess; as usual, the worthy suitor wins her
hand, though in this case France need not slay a dragon—he merely has to
defy one: Lear. What modern students glibly identify in both plots as sib¬
ling rivalry is an ancient phenomenon. Of course, one recalls Cain and
Abel. Sibling rivalry, then, is traced as far back as Eden, and it recurs in
countless tales, legends, and television shows.
One also may focus on the recurring theme of paternal rejection. Lear
pronounces curses on Cordelia and later (I.iv) on Goneril. In a patriarchal
society, to be disowned by one’s father is a terrible thing. Noah s curse on
Ham (Gen. 9) is an early example, as is Abraham’s casting out of Ishmael
(Gen. 21). Today, if the child of a strict Muslim or Orthodox Jewish family
departs from the faith, the family may act as if that child no longer exists.
Lear’s actions, however, are not religious but manipulative, perhaps
analogous to a modern parent’s threat to cut a child out of a will.
Opposite to paternal rejection is the paternal blessing. Near the end of
the play both Cordelia and Edgar ask their fathers’ blessings (IV.vii.58 and
V.iii.194, respectively). This motif is, again, ancient and patriarchal (e.g.,
Jacob blessing his sons in Gen. 49 and the parable of the prodigal son in
Luke 15). One may ask students whether there is any modern equivalent to
this blessing. A variation of the patriarchal theme occurs in the many tales
where the father figure is the king (as Lear is both), and the plot involves
exile or return. In each case the archetypal pattern is alienation from, or
restoration to, the community, be it family or kingdom, that provides the in¬
dividual’s identity and sense of belonging.
An archetypal figure is the blind soothsayer, who, according to tradition,
can “see.” Probably the most familiar example is the soothsayer in Oedipus;
in that play, Oedipus, when he “sees” the truth about himself, punishes
himself by putting out his own eyes. The same interplay of mental and

75
76 KING LEAR IN A LITERATURE SURVEY COURSE

physical vision occurs in King Lear. The theme of sight and blindness—
introduced in I.i.52 with Goneril’s vow that she loves Lear “dearer than
eyesight” and then strongly pursued in I.i. 155 with Lear’s “Out of my
sight!” and Kent’s “See better, Lear”—is continued throughout the play, as
Gloucester’s physical blindness constitutes a counterpoint to Lear’s mental
blindness. At the beginning, Gloucester, like Lear, has no consciousness of
wrongdoing; he is, in fact, rather proud of having a bastard son. Further¬
more, like Lear, he is deceived about his children. Only after he is brutally
blinded does Gloucester perceive the truth, both about himself and his
sons and about the universe, where people are not as flies to wanton boys,
to be killed by the gods for their sport, but are responsible beings, whose
wrongdoings bring their own retribution. Through suffering and through
the “psychotherapy” of his attempted suicide he learns patience, is recon¬
ciled to Edgar, and finally can die “smilingly.”
Though never physically blinded, Lear undergoes a similar process. At
the beginning of the play he is “in the dark” about his own proud nature,
the characters of his daughters, and the suffering of the “poor, naked
wretches in his kingdom. Like Gloucester, he must be plunged into utter
darkness, the mental darkness of lunacy, before he can emerge into the
light of understanding. A Lear who can suggest to Cordelia that they go to
prison as two birds to a cage may seem not to understand the reality of evil,
but in fact he has lived through and passed beyond that reality to one more
transcendent. From his darkness he has gained insight into himself as fal¬
lible man and negligent king and into the evil of Goneril and Regan. But he
has also come to see the value of love and grace (embodied in Cordelia)
and of life lived not in pomp but in simplicity. Thus, in both main plot and
subplot Shakespeare has made powerful use of the archetypal figure of the
blind soothsayer.
Discussion of these universal, archetypal, mythic elements is productive
because it stimulates students to think and to relate the play to their own
lives, experiences, and studies. They may participate in discussions relating
King Lear to what they know of sociology, psychology, anthropology,
children s stories, television programs, films, family life, work experiences,
and everyday social situations. They then perceive that the archetypal ele¬
ments occur in King Lear and recur in much of literature simply because
they recur in human experience, whatever the century or culture.
The emphasis on universals shows that Shakespeare’s genius transcends
the boundaries of time and place. In addition, more scholarly comparisons
of King Lear with some works read earlier in the survey course dem¬
onstrate how that genius was nourished by theatrical, religious, and cultural
traditions.
Mystery plays, for instance, were still being performed when Shake¬
speare was young, and students may better understand King Lear, includ-
 Ann Paton 77

ing its artistic form, purposes, and themes, with some knowledge of Shake¬
speare’s heritage from the Middle Ages, I find, too, that such comparisons
help students see the value of a chronological survey of literature, for
through such a comparative survey they perceive that the tendency of
Renaissance drama toward inclusiveness (multiple settings, long time
spans, and characters from all social strata) was inherited from medieval
rather than classical drama and that medieval plays had accustomed En¬
glish audiences to drama in verse. Most important, students need to know
how medieval religious drama provided thematic materials that Shake¬
speare transmuted into secular Renaissance terms.
The medieval mystery cycle was designed to display the entire history of
humankind, from the Creation to the Last Judgment. The central event
was the birth of Christ, come to reconcile fallen humanity to its Creator.
Thus, The Second Shepherds’ Play celebrates the entrance of redeeming
grace into a fallen world. The world into which Christ is born is a place
where the poor are oppressed by the rich, exploited by their employers,
nagged by their spouses, and chilled by the weather. The good, simple
shepherds are deceived by the rascally Mak and also by a false lamb/baby
before they find the true baby/Lamb. At the end of the play their cir¬
cumstances have not changed. They are still oppressed, exploited, and
cold, but because God has sent his Son to provide grace to redeem human¬
kind, they are singing. This plot line, which moves from suffering to a
joyous conclusion, anticipates the movement of Shakespeare’s major com¬
edies, but it appears in King Lear as well. The fallen nature of humanity,
rudimentary to medieval Christian belief, is fully displayed in King Lear,
and Lear goes through the pattern of sin and suffering, the principal sub¬
ject of the mystery cycles. Some would also say that he proceeds to the
redemption that completes the pattern.
But what of even larger grace? A teacher (and students) may cite
France’s generosity of spirit; the loyalty of Kent, the Fool, and Edgar; the
slaying of Cornwall by a servant who can no longer stand aside as a spec¬
tator of evil; and Edmund’s strange, inexplicable final gesture when he
tries to save Cordelia and Lear. These are signs of grace, but Cordelia is the
chief agent of it. In this secular drama she represents the divine grace of
the mystery play: redemptive, self-sacrificing love that can restore human
dignity and assure suffering humanity that ultimately the destructive
powers of evil cannot prevail. True, she dies, but the grace she embodies is
that unconquerable power which restores Lear’s soul. Of course, the
debate about the presence and nature of redemption in this play is still
endless. Some see a lack of universal and divine grace yet allow that a grace
is offered by Cordelia and accepted by Lear on a human, worldly level. At
any rate, without Cordelia’s luminous presence, the world of King Lear
would be hopeless indeed, just as the shepherds world would be without
 78 KING LEAR IN A LITERATURE SURVEY COURSE

Christ. Thus King Lear, in a secular mode, sets forth the themes of sin, suf¬
fering, and redeeming grace that were central to medieval Christianity and
were the subject of The Second Shepherds’ Play.
Everyman also provides a striking comparison with King Lear. Both are
concerned with the values one should live by, the constant theme of the
medieval morality plays. Everyman, like Lear, has been self-serving and
unconcerned about his fellow human beings (as attested by the feeble con¬
dition of Good Works at the beginning of the play). Edmund Creeth in
Mankynde in Shakespeare shows how Lear’s disenchantment with Goneril
and Regan parallels Everyman’s abandonment by Fellowship, Kindred,
and Goods. Even as Everyman is eventually deserted by the externals to
which he has devoted his life, so Lear is stripped of all the externals that
have defined his role and perverted his system of values. Instead of adher¬
ing to “goods,” both Everyman and Lear must gain humility. The loss of
these externals is so traumatic that Lear goes mad, but in his poverty and
madness he is finally willing and eager to grapple with the vital questions:
what is humankind, and how should a human being live?
W illard Farnham in The Medieval Heritage of Elizabethan Tragedy gives
an enlightening treatment of the development of the morality play and its
contribution to later drama (e.g., a search for the meaning of suffering, the
conflict of vice and virtue, and freedom of choice as a shaper of character).
By Shakespeare’s time the protagonist was not an abstraction but an erring
human being. The Shakespearean tragic hero is, through his choices, the
shaper of his own destiny, and what is important is what happens to the
inner man. To Everyman, grace comes through confession and contrition,
mediated through ecclesiastical channels. Lear’s spiritual pilgrimage
follows similar steps but is expressed in terms of this world. As noted
earlier, Lear through anguish attains new insight. He loses his world, but he
gains his soul through confession and penitence. He comes to a full realiza¬
tion of Cordelia s love, and in the end it is her forgiveness that frees him
from the wheel of fire. The setting of King Lear in pre-Christian Britain
does not invalidate this point. After all, Cordelia echoes Christ’s words in
IV.iv.23-24, “O dear father, / It is thy business that I go about,” and Lear is
told by a gentleman, Thou hast one daughter, / Who redeems nature from
the general curse / Which twain have brought her to” (IV.vi.200-02).
Marlowe s Dr. Faustus also provides interesting parallels. The central
issue, moral choice between good and evil and that choice as determinant
of the soul’s destiny, is clearly the Everyman issue, and Dr. Faustus treats
the same choice in more obviously Christian terms than King Lear uses.
Faustus knows very well the dangers of pride (I.iii.70-72), but he aspires to
reach beyond the proper bounds of humanity; he thus makes his particular
choices, for which he finally assumes full responsibility. When he signs the
covenant with Satan, he uses Christ’s own words, so his sin is deliberate, an
 Ann Paton 79

intellectual, volitional evil, quite different from Everyman’s unthinking

hedonism or Lear’s irrational passion.
The influence of the medieval morality plays on Dr. Faustus may be seen
in the presence of the Seven Deadly Sins and in Faustus’s glimpses of right
even after he has chosen wrong. Still more obvious are the allegorical Good
and Bad Angels speaking to the soul of Faustus (humanity). In King Lear
Shakespeare has created a more subtle version of the same with Lear
(humanity) between Cordelia (Good Angel) and Goneril and Regan (Bad
Angels). Finally, the sense of apocalypse that pervades King Lear is in Dr.
Faustus concentrated in the awful reality of a soul’s being carried off to
Hell, for Faustus, unlike Everyman and Lear, has chosen to reject grace.
These suggestions of universals and comparisons are by no means ex¬
haustive and are meant to be stimulating, not reductive. Teachers have
their own styles, and every class is different; but if, as teachers of literature,
we truly believe that great literature speaks to human beings in every age,
the ideas expressed here may at least help students begin to hear the
glorious voice of King Lear.
 Sight and Perception in King Lear:
An Approach through Imagery and Theme
Frances Teague

When I teach Lear, I spend time talking to students about particular im¬
ages in an act; then we follow an image pattern through the play, deriving
from this analysis a better understanding of the play’s major themes. Such
an approach helps students grasp the meaning of the term image, shows
them how imagery functions, and compels them to pay close attention to
the text. This focus is essential because all too often students find them¬
selves overwhelmed by the play: there is too much in it for them to com¬
prehend. The brighter students recognize the profundity of Lear’s tragedy,
but when they try to discuss their insights in class, they inevitably digress.
One student may begin by raising the issue of parent-child relationships.
Before the class can fully explore that issue, another student has asked if all
the gods in the play are malevolent, a third wants to know why Lear sees
more clearly in madness, and one of the slower students asks for help in
figuring out how to tell Edmund apart from Edgar. By turning the class into
image hunters, I give them a focus for their discussion. Of course, one must
caution students against hunting imagery to the exclusion of any other
critical approach. An instructor has to take responsibility for integrating
the students’ findings with a coherent reading of Lear.
To study the imagery, I divide the class into five groups and ask each to
be responsible for a particular act; I reserve the first scene of the play for
myself and assign it to no one. Each group has two tasks: first, to study the
assigned act and cull from it all images and references concerned with
sight; second, to answer in class any questions other students may have
about the act. While I use sight imagery in my teaching and discuss only
that pattern in this essay, the play is rich in other patterns that students may
explore. Different catalogs might be made of patterns of animal, religious,
age, clothing, sterility, madness, or nature imagery. (The end of this essay
includes a short list of critical works that can guide teachers to a fuller
treatment of these other patterns.)
Often students assume they know what an image is or else feel em¬
barrassed about asking for a definition of the term. So, a week or so before
we begin the play, I ask them what the word image means. Generally the
class tells me that an image is a picture in words or that images are all
metaphors. Because critics use a broader definition, I ask the class to com¬
pare what some handbooks of critical terms say. For example, in The Study
of Literature, Sylvan Barnet, Morton Berman, and William Burto write:

80
 Frances Teague 81

A few decades ago it was commonly held that images evoked pic¬
tures ... and it was sometimes held that images were not literal but
were produced by figurative language ..., but today it is agreed that
images involve any sensations (including those of heat and pressure
as well as those of eye, ear, etc.) and that the literal sensory objects in
the work are images. (307)

C. Hugh Holman’s Handbook to Literature has a similar definition of

image: “a literal and concrete representation of a sensory experience or of
an object that can be known by one or more of the senses” (263). A defini¬
tion that proves popular with students is the one given by poet and critic
John Frederick Nims in his textbook Western Wind: an image is “a piece of
news from the world outside or from our own bodies which is brought into
the light of consciousness by one of the senses” (3). When students tell me
they like Nims’s definition best, I point out that he is using imagery in it and
that their preference shows the power of imagery.
On the first day of our study of Lear, I take the class through Li, carefully
explaining the events and the implications of each event. We concentrate
particularly on lines that refer to sight. The first of these is Goneril’s vow
that she loves her father “dearer than eyesight” (Evans ed. I.i.56). Later,
when Cordelia refuses to quantify her love, Lear warns her to “avoid my
sight!” (124). His rejection leads to his exchange with Kent:

Lear. Out of my sight!

Kent. See better, Lear, and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye. (157-59)

When France asks what Cordelia has done, she defends herself, saying she
lacks “A still-soliciting eye” (231), and as she goes with France, she tells
her sisters, “The jewels of our father, with wash’d eyes / Cordelia leaves
you” (268-69).
Some of these images fit the definitions of the term that students usually
give, although “Out of my sight” and “avoid my sight” are marginally
metaphoric. Yet as a group the images extend beyond metaphor or word
picture, drawing on the power of irony and establishing a major theme in
Shakespeare’s play. The metaphor in Kent’s lines, for example, is com¬
pound. Lear has compared his angry decision to a “bow [that] is bent and
drawn”; when Kent asks Lear to “let me still remain / The true blank of
thine eye,” he refers to the center of an archery target as well as to the cen¬
ter of the king’s vision—that is, Kent’s role as true and loyal subject.
Further, he urges Lear to “See better,” in order to understand more fully
82 SIGHT AND PERCEPTION IN KING LEAR

what Cordelia’s answer means. But Lear’s understanding is faulty; he is

spiritually blind to Cordelia’s merit and chooses not to see. Thus he com¬
mands both Cordelia and Kent to avoid his sight. Lear’s refusal to listen to
Kent’s defense is made particularly ironic when the king calls on Apollo,
the god of light and justice. Although he swears by Apollo, he remains un¬
enlightened about the merits of his child or his servant and so behaves un¬
justly. Kent’s rejoinder that Lear “swear’st thy gods in vain” will rever¬
berate throughout the play, as Lear realizes his own injustice and experi¬
ences injustice from his other daughters with no assistance from his
gods.
Cordelia’s lines in the scene are also metaphoric and ironic. She says that
her sight is both deprived and enriched because she lacks “A still-soliciting
eye, and such a tongue,” both of which her sisters have. In equating speech
and sight, she echoes what Goneril has said earlier: “Sir, I love you more
than [words] can wield the matter / Dearer than eyesight....” Goneril of¬
fers insincerely to exchange her most valuable senses, her speech and
sight, for Lear’s love. Cordelia says she lacks such speech and sight, but by
saying so she proves that she can see her sisters more clearly than her
father does and speak the truth more fully than her sisters do. Her claim of
inadequacy establishes her superiority. Further irony lies in Cordelia’s
reference to her sisters as “the jewels of [her] father” whom she leaves
“with wash’d eyes.” Her eyes are washed with tears of sincerity; because
her vision is cleansed, she sees her sisters’ hypocrisy. When Cordelia calls
her sisters Lear’s jewels, she alludes to Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi,
who gave up wealth and power for her children whom she called her
jewels. Unlike Cornelia, Lear surrenders his kingdom to his children only
to find that his sacrifice brings him disaster.
In that first class, I emphasize the play’s irony, both verbal (as the charac¬
ters say one thing but mean another) and dramatic (as the characters’
speeches hint at what is to come), and I make it clear that Shakespeare has
a larger purpose than simply retelling an old story. Lear is spiritually blind,
and his lack of vision leads him into chaos and suffering. His gods do not
grant him clear vision, and Goneril and Regan deceive him, yet the king
himself chooses his blindness. He limits his own vision when he orders
Cordelia and Kent into exile, out of his sight. The consequence of his action
furnishes matter for the rest of the play; the question of who bears respon¬
sibility for his injustice remains unanswered.
The students who have cataloged the references to vision and percep¬
tion in the rest of act I present their findings on the second day. They point
out, among other things, Gloucester s gullibility in believing Edmund’s
false letter (I.ii), Lear’s failure to recognize Kent (I.iv), and the king’s com¬
ments on sight and perception as he complains of Goneril’s unkindness
(I.iv.71, 227, and 296-308). My central point about act I is that characters
 Frances Teague 83

fail to recognize one another both physically and morally. Gloucester and
Lear fail to see their children as evil (or virtuous), just as Lear fails to pene¬
trate Kent s disguise. Last of all I discuss Lear’s speech to Goneril:

I am asham’d
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus,
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!
Th’ untented woundings of a father’s curse
Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes,
Beweep this cause again, I’ll pluck ye out,
And cast you, with the waters that you loose,
To temper clay....
... I have another daughter

... with her nails

She’ll flea thy wolvish visage. (I.iv.296-304, 305, 307-08)

This speech contains so many sight images that reverberate throughout the
play that one probably cannot discuss it exhaustively. Although Lear is
beginning to see more clearly, he still errs in his valuation of Regan. This
speech lets the audience hear him come near the truth, although he makes
mistakes. Tears will recur, for example, in Il.iv, when Lear refuses to weep
and allow his daughters’ cruelty to touch him. Yet Cordelia’s tears in act IV
both indicate her valuation of her father and help heal the king by closing
“the eye of anguish.’’ The “Blasts and fogs” fall on Lear in the heath scene,
not on his daughters. Lear does not blind himself, nor does Regan flay
Goneril’s face, but Regan does help Cornwall pluck out Gloucester’s eyes.
This speech, in short, foreshadows later action and provides a good transi¬
tion to the next day’s work on act II.
Discussion of the second act proceeds directly from that of act I. In the
first act characters failed to recognize one another, and in Il.i-iii, characters
repeatedly mistake another’s identity or fail to see through a disguise. In
Il.iv, the Fool’s song suggests that both Goneril and Regan are blind to
Lear’s needs. Lear describes and curses Goneril in terms of her vision,
while he appeals to the kindness he thinks he can see in Regan’s eyes. But
the Fool’s vision is clearer than Lear’s: Lear has no power over his
daughters, an impotence that is made plain when he unsuccessfully orders
Oswald, “Out... from my sight!” Unlike Cordelia or Kent, Oswald will not
go, and the act ends with Lear’s refusing to weep as the storm begins.
Act III presents the most devastating scenes in the play: the storm
scenes and the blinding of Gloucester. If students are focusing on the im¬
agery of sight, they will naturally concentrate on the latter scene, par-
84 SIGHT AND PERCEPTION IN KING LEAR

ticularly since the mad babble in the storm episodes confuses them. Thus
students often do a fine job explicating Ill.vii but fail to present the rest of
the act effectively. The instructor then has the reponsibility of showing the
class that Gloucester’s blindness parallels Lear’s madness, that both
characters turn away from the external world to find a clearer moral vision
within themselves. Although sight imagery is explicit in Ill.vii, it can also be
found implicidy in the storm scenes, especially in references to the dark
night and the rain. Nature seems to weep for Lear as he rejects tears and
enters the darkness of insanity. The king tells Kent he hardly notices the
storm because “this tempest in my mind / Doth from my senses take all
feeling else ...” (III.iv.12-13), a sentiment that Edgar echoes when he
first sees his blind father in IV.i. An overwhelming evil drives smaller prob¬
lems from men’s minds.
In the fourth act, both Lear and Gloucester move through infirmity to a
spiritual reawakening. Furthermore, in this act sight imagery suggests the
possibility of happiness and justice. Students will not realize this possibility
on their own; the instructor must point out the awful irony of the fourth act
when it is considered with act V. Gloucester’s blindness leads to his re¬
union with Edgar and allows Edgar to trick his father at Dover into a belief
in “the clearest gods.” Though Edgar’s action saves his father from despair,
the old man dies in act V; the gods will not save him. News of Gloucester’s
blinding clears Albany’s vision. Seeing the evil of his wife and the forces
allied with her, he vows to revenge Gloucester. Yet in act V, he recants and
fights with his wife against Cordelia’s army. Cordelia’s tears and care re¬
store Lear to sanity in act IV, but in the end both Lear and she are cap¬
tured, and Lear reverts to madness. Act IV suggests the possibility of hope,
but that hope is denied in act V. Given the play’s ending, Lear seems to be
right when he tells Gloucester, “What, art mad? A man may see how this
world goes with no eyes” (IV.vi.150-51). He insists that there is no justice
in the universe. He himself is mad as he asks Gloucester, “What, art mad?”:
the greatest irony of all is that a madman can see what will happen more
clearly than the other characters or even the audience. In his fit, he brags
that when he comes upon his daughters and sons-in-law, “Then kill, kill,
kill, kill, kill” (IV.vi.187); the terrible truth is that the good as well as the evil
will be killed.
By act V, students may well feel exhaustion. Because the last session
devoted to this demanding play can be flat and tired, the instructor has to
follow the catalogers’ presentation energetically. The teacher should point
out that, by the play’s end, moral and physical disguises are abandoned and
that all the characters now see more clearly. I also go back to I.i to show the
class how the meaning of those opening images has been changed and en¬
riched by the rest of the play. At V.iii.258, Lear equates speech and sight as
Goneril did in I.i. But she did so insincerely; he does so to mourn Cordelia’s
 Frances Teague 85

death. Neither Goneril nor Lear can respond adequately: she is too false,
and he too grieved. His sight plays tricks on him as he calls for a mirror,
thinks he sees a feather stir, and tells Kent his sight is poor. The other
characters watch Lear and comment on his plight, but Lear is intent on
watching Cordelia. As he dies, whether he thinks she is alive or not, his last
words urge the others to look at her. Though he is physically and mentally
broken at the end, his spiritual vision is clear: the real tragedy is not his
anguish, but the death of Cordelia and her virtue. When Edgar ends the
play with the words, “we that are young / Shall never see so much nor live
so long, he is right. No one else can attain the clarity of vision that Lear
reaches through his suffering.
By tracing the imagery of sight, students learn several important lessons.
First, they discover what an image is and how Shakespeare uses imagery to
unify his play and to imbue it with symbolic meaning. Second, by concen¬
trating on one of the play’s strands, they limit their critical focus without
reducing the play. Lear can overwhelm students unless they have some¬
thing to help them organize their ideas and to keep them from digressing;
tracing imagery offers a coherent approach.
Several tools will help an instructor who wants to use this approach. Any¬
one who wants a class to trace an image pattern should introduce students
to a good concordance and teach them how to use it. A teacher will find in¬
teresting discussions of imagery in G. Wilson Knight’s Wheel of Fire and
Caroline Spurgeon’s Shakespeare’s Imagery and What It Tells Us; Spur¬
geon’s belief, however, that the imageiy offers biographical insights into
Shakespeare’s life is not generally accepted. Robert Heilman’s This Great
Stage remains the standard work on imagery in Lear; an answer to it may
found in W. R. Keast’s “Imagery and Meaning in the Interpretation of King
Lear.’’ Kenneth Muir’s article “Shakespeare’s Imagery—Then and Now”
provides a good survey of works on the subject, while volumes 13 and 33 of
Shakespeare Survey both concentrate on Lear.
 An Approach through Dramatic Structure
James E. Hirsh

One feature of my approach to teaching King Lear is to discuss with

students the paradoxical structure of the play. In a highly systematic way,
King Lear threatens our sense of order, system, and structure by re¬
peatedly forcing us radically to restructure our responses as the play pro¬
gresses. I begin my unit on the structure of the play by demonstrating what
an incompetent piece of work it is, at least when measured against the
traditional and presumably commonsensical conceptions of dramatic struc¬
ture with which most students are familiar. King Lear violates the unities of
action, time, and place: its episodic double plot covers a considerable time
period and abruptly shifts locale. “The number of essential characters is so
large, their actions and movements are so complicated, and events towards
the close crowd on one another so thickly, that the reader’s attention,
rapidly transferred from one centre of interest to another, is overstrained
(Bradley 206). If one is not confused by something in King Lear, one has
simply not been paying attention. This apparently loosely organized play,
furthermore, does not exhibit the structure conventionally attributed to a
tragedy. As discussed below, the play has a confusing exposition, a falling
action when it should have a rising action, a misleading climax, a rising ac¬
tion when it should have a falling action, and seems headed for a tragicomic
resolution rather than a tragic catastrophe.
I believe it is a mistake either to apologize for these supposed short¬
comings or to pretend the play fits the conventions. Instead, students and I
work through Lear together to determine what Shakespeare may have
been after, to determine why such a supposedly great playwright may have
intentionally made all these seeming blunders. To this end, we try to
reconstruct the experience that the play seems designed to evoke in an
audience. What does an audience make of what happens on stage as it hap¬
pens? What kind of structure does a playgoer provisionally give to the
dramatic events, and how does this provisional structure change as the play
proceeds? Only a selection of moments from the play can be examined in
detail in class, and only a smaller selection can be briefly mentioned here
by way of illustration.
As we closely examine the opening scene, we keep in mind the conven¬
tional notion of exposition. As soon as possible and as smoothly as possible,
a playwright is supposed to give us our bearings, to let us know who’s who
and what’s what and especially whom to root for and whom against. Shake¬
speare does so with seemingly conventional economy at the very begin¬
ning of King Lear. As one of the entering characters introduces his two
companions to one another, Shakespeare simultaneously introduces the

86
 James E. Hirsh 87

audience to all three, but mainly to the talkative character who makes the
introductions. He is a crude and insensitive old man who embarrasses his il¬
legitimate son before a third person by making coarse allusions to sexual in¬
tercourse with the young man’s mother (“there was good sport at his mak¬
ing”). We sympathize with this unfortunate young man, who is admirably
forbearing under the circumstances, and hope that the old man will even¬
tually get his comeuppance. Later in the same scene we are introduced to
another old man who is even more disagreeable—foolish, choleric, cruel,
and tyrannical—and who treats a child even more insensitively. All this
would be conventionally successful exposition, except that the victimized
young man turns out to be a cold-blooded villain and the insensitive old
men later become pitiable victims. If Shakespeare intended to let us know
whom to root for as soon as possible, he has clearly bungled the job. If he
wanted to demonstrate the fallibility of human perceptions and judgments,
however, he might have decided to do so not merely by dramatizing
Gloucester’s and Lear’s misjudgments of other characters but also by
dramatizing our similar fallibility. Instead of giving us our bearings, the
opening scene deprives us of our bearings, our ordinary perspective, and
our confidence in our assumptions, and the rest of the play systematically
subverts our attempts to recover them.
As we work through the play in class, we come across other examples of
Shakespeare’s incompetence. In addition to bungling the exposition, he
mishandles what seems to be a major turning point in the action. After
overhearing a “plot of death” against Lear, Gloucester hurriedly sends him
to Dover to “Both welcome and protection” (in scene 13 [Ill.vi]). This mo¬
ment is crucial in several respects. Until now the main crime against Lear
has been the two sisters’ humiliation of him—their insidious attacks on his
perquisites and his dignity. They do close the doors of Gloucester’s castle
on him, but only after Lear himself has chosen to go out into the storm.
Now, however, we learn of a murder plot against Lear, and at the same mo¬
ment, we also witness Lear’s rescue from this plot. This moment is almost
equally important as a turning point because Lear is now headed some¬
where. Since the first storm scene, he has been wandering about direction¬
less or has been shuffled about with at most a very immediate and tem¬
porary goal: shelter from the storm. Not only is Lear now headed some¬
where, he is finally headed in the right direction: toward his one loving
daughter. After Lear’s humiliation and after the anguish of the storm
scenes, his fortunes have clearly hit bottom and are now on the way up, due
to Gloucester’s lucky eavesdropping and timely intervention. The worst is
over. The sympathetic characters are beginning to work together and have
frustrated the latest plot devised by the evil characters. The subplot will
presumably follow the same pattern. Gloucester will escape Edmund’s
treachery, as Lear has escaped the “plot of death.”
88 AN APPROACH THROUGH DRAMATIC STRUCTURE

And then in the next scene Gloucester’s eyes are put out. We assumed
we had reached the turning point of the play only to be shocked by a new
calamity. Like Edgar at the beginning of scene 15 (IV.i), we had assumed
the worst was over. Again, in order to give us an experience that reflects,
however dimly, that of a character onstage, Shakespeare has made the low
point of his subplot more shocking than the low point of his main plot.
But by the time Edgar encounters his blinded father, Shakespeare has
managed, however incompetently, to bring both his plots past their respec¬
tive turning points in what promises to be a tragicomedy. The overall
tragicomic structure becomes more and more apparent as the play pro¬
gresses. After his initial cruelty toward his one loving child, Lear met with
similar cruelty himself. His intense sufferings drive him to the point of
madness and would seem to expiate his crimes. Because of his madness, his
sufferings continue even after his initial arrival among Cordelia’s friendly
forces. But his adversities seem to effect a kind of moral redemption; in¬
deed, his suffering is intensified and prolonged by his sense of guilt. By the
time Lear is restored to and comforted by the loving child he had mis¬
treated, we feel the rightness of this upward movement toward a tragi¬
comic conclusion. Gloucester undergoes a similar process. Although an
audience’s initial identification of the turning point was premature because
the subplot had not reached bottom, the general upward direction of the
action (despite complications) after Gloucester’s blinding—coupled with
our sympathy for Lear and Gloucester, who surely have suffered enough
for whatever crimes they may have committed—encourages us to hope
and even to expect that this upward movement will continue. Thus the play
encourages us to expect a tragicomic denouement in which, perhaps after
some temporary setbacks and further last-minute complications, the good
characters finally triumph over the evil characters. And, indeed, Lear
eventually recovers enough to join Cordelia at the head of an army.
But Shakespeare botches the ending. Of all the incompetent features of
King Lear, the final scene is the most incompetent. Cordelia’s death is the
result more of Albany’s forgetfulness than of any error committed by her or
even Lear. It is not the inexorable working out of tragic fate. As Bradley
complained, the catastrophe does not seem at all inevitable.... In fact it
seems expressly designed to fall suddenly like a bolt from a sky cleared by
the vanished storm (204). The final scene is so incompetent that no less a
critic than Samuel Johnson found it unbearable and preferred the revision
by Nahum Tate. As the work of a genuinely competent playwright, Tate’s
happy ending satisfies the tragicomic expectations set up by the earlier
part of Shakespeare s play, and Tate’s version held the stage well into the
nineteenth century.
My students and I examine the final scene as closely as we examined the
first. One effect of this scene is to reproduce even more forcefully an effect
 James E. Hirsh 89

produced earlier. The audience experiences, even before Edgar does, the
horror of the realization that “the worst is not / So long as we can say ‘This is
the worst’” (scene 15 [IV.i]). But in the very act of assenting to Edgar’s
assertion, we denied it by assuming that, by that time, we had seen the
worst—namely, the blinding of Gloucester—but the shocking entry of
Lear with the lifeless Cordelia in his arms is even worse. We are forced to
experience something worse than the worst—again.
Although Lear does not have a conventional dramatic structure, our
classroom discussions are intended eventually to show that it does have an
artistically purposeful structure, or rather an antistructure that depends in
part on the audience’s familiarity with conventional dramatic structure.
The play is also bound together by a multiplicity of intricately superim¬
posed structures, from verbal echoes and patterns of imagery to the famous
parallels between the main plot and the subplot. No one becomes aware of
all these patterns, but every playgoer notices some, and I discuss with a
class as many as possible. Furthermore, every scene in the play has its own
demonstrable internal structure, sometimes simple and clear, sometimes
complex and deceptive. The patterns within scenes and the juxtapositions
and patterns among these units—each separated from the next by a dis¬
tinct break in the dramatic continuity: a cleared stage—are major elements
in the play’s overall structure.
One of the most interesting patterns in the play involves a series of five
scenes, all with the same simple format. In each, two characters enter
simultaneously after a cleared stage, engage in a single continuous dia¬
logue, and then leave simultaneously. (No other Shakespearean play has
more than three such scenes.) These five scenes are arranged in a clearly
symmetrical pattern. Goneril and Oswald are the participants in scene 3
(I.iii), Regan and Oswald in scene 19 (IV.v)—the first and the last of these
“duets” each involves one of the two major female villains in the play and
the same servant. The middle duet of the five (12 [III.v]) is an encounter
between Cornwall and Edmund, the two major male villains in the play. In
contrast, the intervening scenes of this type (8 [Ill.i] and 17 [IV.iii]) both
depict conversations between Kent and the Gentleman, two unselfish
characters who attempt to aid Lear. This pattern is reinforced and given
greater significance by many details. For example, in the first scene Goneril
gives Oswald the first overt commands in the two villainous sisters’ cam¬
paign to humiliate Lear, whereas the last of the five portrays the first overt
expression of one sister’s antagonism for the other.
Many individual scenes reflect the paradoxical structure of the play as a
whole. After the confused exposition and abrupt transitions of the opening
scene, the second scene has a nicely symmetrical structure, with five
clearly defined segments (a structure that resembles the large-scale pat¬
tern of duets). The opening, middle, and final segments are soliloquies by
90 AN APPROACH THROUGH DRAMATIC STRUCTURE

Edmund, and each of the other two depicts an encounter between Ed¬
mund and one of his dupes, first Gloucester and then Edgar. But what this
orderly scene of exposition exposes is our own earlier misjudgment of
Edmund.
Not only are some individual events in this play painful and frightening
to contemplate, but so are some of the patterns formed by those events.
Parallels between the opening and closing scenes, for example, seem as
cruel and gratuitous as the death of Cordelia itself. The unstable division of
the kingdom in the opening scene is paralleled by Albany’s attempt to
divide the kingdom at the end, but this time no one even accepts rule. In
the opening scene Kent is banished by Lear on the threat of death; in the
final scene Kent imagines he is called by Lear on a journey toward Lear,
toward death. Lear banishes Cordelia in intense and unassuageable rage in
the opening scene and suffers intense and unassuageable grief at his
separation from her in the final scene. Cordelia’s self-injunction to “be
silent’’ in the opening scene is paralleled by her silence at the end of the
play. She says “Nothing” when Lear asks her to speak in scene 1 and says
nothing when asked to speak up by Lear at the end (“What is’t thou sayst?
Her voice was ever soft”). Lear’s pathetic fantasy about life with Cordelia
after his retirement (“I lov’d her most, and thought to set my rest / On her
kind nursery”) is paralleled both by his pathetic fantasy of life in prison
with Cordelia near the beginning of the final scene and, near the end, by
his sporadically recurring fantasy that she is still alive. This structure of
parallels intensifies the painfulness of the play.
By means of orderly patterns that in their very multiplicity make the play
more confused, more disorderly, King Lear disrupts our sense not only of
orderliness but even of the value of orderliness. One goal of my classroom
approach is to forestall my and my students’ impulse to derive from the play
what it seems magnificently structured to deny: a comforting sense of
order.
A few of the issues raised here I explore at greater length in The Struc¬
ture of Shakespearean Scenes. Three of the four works that have most in¬
fluenced my approach to teaching the structure of Lear are “The Ending
of King Lear by Nicholas Brooke, “Some Dramatic Techniques in King
Lear by William H. Matchett, and King Lear, Macbeth, Indefinition, and
Tragedy by Stephen Booth. The fourth work is Shakespearean Tragedy,
which is still valuable after eighty years partly because Bradley described,
often with great particularity and eloquence, those features of King Lear
that violate Bradley’s own criteria for dramatic structure, features that
make King Lear a disturbing masterpiece rather than a comfortingly com¬
petent play.
“Mapping” King Lear in a Drama Survey Course:
A Guide in an Antiformalist Terrain
Maurice Hunt

When taught as part of a survey of English drama to 1642, King Lear allows
an instructor not only to demonstrate the evolution of Renaissance
dramatic tragedy but also to acquaint students with a revolutionary func¬
tion of art. Most undergraduates assume that lasting drama, especially
Shakespearean plays, are organically unified works of art designed to teach
memorable lessons. They often believe that art is ordered while life is
chaotic and that a harmonious arrangement of experience constitutes the
distinctive value of art. As a rule, they expect that the teacher of Sackville
and Norton’s Gorboduc, Marlowe’s Tamburlaine, and Jonson’s Sejanus will
once again explain how aesthetic parts “fit together” to create a “perfect”
whole. By assigning Aristotle’s Poetics early in the survey, I help students
explore the critical basis for their usually unexamined assumptions. Once
they have fully grasped the concept of dramatic formalism, students
generally are more appreciative of the traditional idea that King Lear, in so
many ways, violates.
In the light of this pedagogical goal, Aristotle’s ideas of dramatic whole¬
ness and magnitude receive emphasis during class discussion of the Poetics.
The doctrine of magnitude, in Aristotle’s opinion, depends upon artistic
proportion or order: “Again, a beautiful object, whether it be a picture of a
living organism or any whole composed of parts, must not only have an or¬
derly arrangement of parts, but must also be of a certain magnitude; for
beauty depends on magnitude and order” (203; 7.4). By asserting that a
“whole” dramatic tragedy has a beginning, a middle, and an end, Aristotle
implies that

the plot, being an imitation of an action, must imitate one action and
that a whole, the structural union of the parts being such that, if any
one of them is displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and
disturbed. For a thing whose presence or absence makes no visible
difference, is not an organic part of the whole. (204; 8.4)

The strict concatenation of fatal events in Sophocles’s Oedipus Rex illus¬

trates for students Aristotle’s principle of organic wholeness as well as his
idea of a model complex tragedy. When taught in conjunction with the
Poetics, Oedipus Rex reveals how a reversal of the situation (peripeteia),

91
92 “MAPPING” KING LEAR IN A DRAMA SURVEY COURSE

coinciding with a recognition (anagnorisis), concludes the complication of

the play and initiates the swift unraveling (denouement).
Because of its formalist qualities, Gorboduc suitably begins that phase of
the drama survey course leading to King Lear. With its compact and
streamlined single action, its set declamations representing opposed view¬
points, its nuntius bearing heavy news, its curse on the house of Brut, its im¬
itation of the classical chorus, and its ritualistic tone, Gorboduc of all En¬
glish drama perhaps most closely resembles those classical plays from
which Aristotle induced his critical maxims. The formal speeches of King
Gorboduc and Arostos and of Philander and Eubulus, respectively for and
against the transfer of royal rule from father to sons, are mirrored in act II
in the conflicting advice of Hermon and Dordan and of Tyndar and Philan¬
der to Ferrex and Porrex respectively. Gorboduc’s peripeteia, his learning
of Ferrex’s conspiracy against the younger brother, predictably occurs (by
the iron law of tragic rise and fall) in the middle of the play and coincides
with his Solonic anagnorisis—“O no man happy till his end be seen”
(III.i.1-28). Tragic wholeness also characterizes Tamburlaine I and II,
though less rigorously so. The Scythian shepherd methodically rises and
falls on fortune’s wheel, his proud ascendancy occurring precisely at the
midpoint of Marlowe’s expansive ten-act structure—the conclusion of part
1. These and other plays, such as Hamlet, thus can give students a fairly
detailed understanding of how sixteenth-century English playwrights
practiced formalist techniques of drama.
Immediately prior to teaching King Lear, the instructor might assign
Hamlet. Few critics have improved on A. C. Bradley’s description of the
five-part structure of Hamlet, whose midpoint peripeteia (the killing of
Polonius) quickly produces anagnorisis (Hamlet’s idea that he is a doomed
scourge operating in a divine plan). These events punctuate sets of
stratagems and counterstratagems that occupy much of acts II and IV re¬
spectively. Hamlet’s successful trapping of Claudius with The Murder of
Gonzago ends the first set, Claudius’s lethal commanding of Hamlet to
England begins the second, and the reversal of the situation and the
recognition stand between these two rhythms, which are framed in turn by
a first-act exposition and a fifth-act catastrophe (40-78).
Turning to King Lear after a formalist study of Hamlet, students are
curious about the nature and extent of the protagonist’s tragic education. A
reading of Hamlet usually confirms students’ non-Aristotelian assumption
that the hero of tragedy, dramatic or otherwise, achieves philosophical
knowledge at the price of (often on the condition of) death. The basis for
their post-Romantic assumption is explained by Thomas P. Roche, Jr., in
‘“Nothing Almost Sees Miracles’: Tragic Knowledge in King Lear.”
Hamlet’s late understanding of a divinity that shapes our ends, of the prov¬
idential fall of a sparrow, and especially of the importance of readiness for
 Maurice Hunt 93

life and death appear to offset, even to redeem, some of the tragic pain that
makes it possible. During my classes devoted to Lear, students understand
that Lear also undergoes an instructive experience, even though Shake¬
speare’s antiformalist method, raising expectations of order in the tragedy
only to undermine or deny them, makes Lear’s learning less than a clearly
defined education.
The key issue in opening the play to undergraduates involves Lear’s
game of giving away his kingdom. My point of departure is Lear’s belief
that love is a measurable, exhaustible quantity, which merits a quantitative
reward. A certain size of love, judged by the magnitude of affirming
speech, gains a proportional amount of land. These ideas, as well as those in
the remainder of this paragraph, are suggested by Robert B. Heilman in
chapter 7 of This Great Stage: Image and Structure in King Lear. I point out
that Cordelia apparently shares Lear’s quantitative view of love. Not only
does she say, “my love’s / More ponderous than my tongue” (Evans ed.
I.i.77-78), but she also loves Lear according to a bond in which he enjoys
only one-half of her affection. At this point, I read the speech in which
Juliet protests that her love for Romeo is as deep as the sea—that the more
she gives to him, the more she has, “for both are infinite” (II.ii.133-35). In
other words, I remind students that love can be a boundless quality. A read¬
ing of sonnet 116 can also convey this concept. Students thus can under¬
stand that Lear’s, and possibly Cordelia’s, tragic error could be an imper¬
fect idea of love.
Next, I observe how, in later scenes of act I, Lear’s daughters cruelly at¬
tack his requirement of a hund red knights, reducing it to fifty, twenty-five,
ten, five, and finally zero. Considered from one viewpoint, Lear experi¬
ences the repercussions of his quantitative idea of love. Goneril and Regan
restrict Lear’s substance even as he imposed limits on his love for his
daughters. Having reached Lear’s “O, reason not the need” speech, I ask
students to consider Lear’s experience as educational—both for him and
for us. I then introduce the idea of charting Lear’s moments of insight, ex¬
plaining how students might create “maps” of them.
By “mapping” the play, students can initially focus their assumptions
about aesthetic order and tragic learning. Student maps are simply charts
of speeches in which Lear appears to express tragic knowledge. At an ap¬
propriate moment during the second class period devoted to King Lear, I
ask students to record act, scene, and inclusive line numbers of passages
that reflect Lear’s insights into himself or his world. I also encourage un¬
dergraduates to write a one-sentence paraphrase below the record of each
passage. Each record and paraphrase forms a unit; linked together by
straight lines, the units form a map—a chart of Lear’s educational pil¬
grimage.
Some students record ten or twelve different speeches in which Lear
94 “MAPPING” KING LEAR IN A DRAMA SURVEY COURSE

voices tragic insights; others may note only three or four. Most students
usually record Lear’s intuition of true need (“O, reason not the need”) and
his prayer on the heath (III.iv.28-36). Other speeches that often appear in
student maps involve Lear’s vision of “unaccommodated man’’ (HI.iv.101-
09); his understanding of the relation between authority and power, his
“seeing feelingly” (IV.vi. 150-59); his realization that the human condition
requires patience (IV.vi. 176-83); and his final dark questioning of the
meaning of Cordelia’s life. Also frequently noted are his early insights into
his foolishness in divesting himself of his kingdom and in banishing Cor¬
delia. Surprisingly, many students overlook single lines in the play: “I did
her wrong” (I.v.24) and “I am a very foolish fond old man” (IV.vii.59).
Often undergraduates record Lear’s terrible view of divine justice (IILii.
49-60) and his arraignment of Goneril and Regan (Ill.vi.20-56), uncertain
whether these speeches reflect understanding or ignorant rage. Through¬
out the process of recording passages, I assure students that a definitive
map does not exist. What is important is the realization that Lear has
meaningful insights, that some insights are more important than others,
and that the insights can be plotted in relation to one another.
Several studies can help the teacher identify dramatic passages contain¬
ing Lear’s insights. In “Lear’s Schoolmasters,” Manfred Weidhorn provides
an overview of the king’s progress in learning by describing five stages in
Lear’s education. Chapter 8 of Heilman’s book and Paul Jorgensen’s Lear’s
Self-Discovery also include discussions of Lear’s chief acts of knowing.
After students have realized that Lear’s learning can be plotted, and after
they have mapped it throughout the play, I note that Edgar arranges a
learning experience for Gloucester. Edgar wishes to cure the blinded
Gloucester of despair, convincing him through a staged “miracle”—the
trick at Dover Cliff—that life is precious and that the gods intervene to
preserve it. Understanding that he has been “the superfluous and lust-
dieted man” who “slaves” the laws of heaven, Gloucester clearly has the
capacity for self-knowledge. He responds to Edgar’s instruction, promising
to bear / Affliction till it do cry out itself / ‘Enough, enough,’ and die”
(IV.vi.75-77). Nevertheless, I observe that the stiff Gloucester proves to be
a forgetful pupil. On the occasion of Cordelia’s and Lear’s quick defeat,
Gloucester, for example, lapses, content to “rot” where he sits.
I emphasize that Edgar himself does not feel successful in achieving his
educational aim with regard to his father. In summing up his pilgrimage,
Edgar states that his delayed revelation of his identity, necessary for his
“teaching,” should be regarded as a fault. He realizes that his untimely dis¬
closure of his identity contributed to Gloucester’s premature death (V.iii.
195-200). Having stressed this fact, I then turn to those earlier speeches of
Edgar s in which he desires to use tragic experience for his own comfort.
Edgar believes that viewing Lear’s tragedy can make his pain “light” and
 Maurice Hunt 95

portable, simply because that which makes him “bend makes the King
bow (III.vi. 109). He assumes that the play’s chaotic events have places
within an order, that of the wheel of fortune. It is worth observing that this
expectation of order causes Edgar occasionally to appear unempathetic;
the fortune s-wheel view of tragedy requires a dispassionate consideration
of a king s fall. Consequently the tragic lesson is an intellectual one. An¬
ticipating an order in events, Edgar objectively states that “[t]he lament¬
able change is from the best, / The worst returns to laughter” (IV.i.5-6),
only to encounter his ravaged father and be forced to deny his “wisdom.”
Chastened, he admits that humankind cannot imagine the worst to which it
may sink. Painfully, Edgar must endure hearing Gloucester ironically
paraphrase his naive idea of tragic order: “That I am wretched /Makes thee
the happier” (IV.i.65-66).
During my presentation of Edgar’s attitudes, I suggest that reading or
viewing King Lear within Edgar’s orderly frame of reference is easy—
almost instinctual in fact. But I emphasize that Shakespeare, through
Edgar’s and Gloucester’s roles, appears interested in encouraging certain
expectations of order and learning that are subsequently never fulfilled. At
this point, I introduce students to the antiformalist perspective (avoiding,
however, the use of this phrase). I explain that we often project forms onto
experience, whether actual or artistic, in order to make it reflect our pre¬
conceived notions of coherence. I then indicate that art, clearly perceived,
sometimes challenges and shatters our artificial ordering of the world, dis¬
orienting us before leading us to more truthful visions. Morse Peckham’s
Man’s Rage for Chaos: Biology, Behavior, and the Arts constitutes an in¬
troduction to antiformalism; this study can supply concrete examples of the
phenomenon for the teacher. Finally, I ask students whether they, like
Edgar, have imposed a distorting order on Lear’s tragic insights.
My intention is to prepare students for the dramatic regressions that
follow Lear’s moments of insight. Lear’s education cannot be portrayed as
an unbroken curve upward, though many students plot such a map. Lear’s
knowledge of true need and patience is overwhelmed by rage and destruc¬
tive urges (II.iv.272-86) and by a pride that leads to madness (III.ii.1-24).
In III .iv, his great prayer dissolves in the mad idea that Tom O’Bedlam’s
daughters have reduced Tom to nothing. Imagining the wretch to be as
foolish as himself, Lear no longer feels pure empathy. In general, I
highlight the “madness-in-reason” quality of several of Lear’s insights. His
intuition of the relation between authority and power degenerates, for ex¬
ample, into the nihilistic claim that “none does offend” (IV.vi.168). E. A. J.
Honigmann, in Shakespeare: Seven Tragedies, defines Lear’s “blurred vi¬
sion” and describes his mind as an inner landscape that is difficult to assess
because the king often avoids knowing and being known.
Students thus can realize that Lear’s progress in knowledge is a broken
96 “MAPPING” KING LEAR IN A DRAMA SURVEY COURSE

course, marked by many lapses. At this juncture, they may further refine
their maps. Teachers may wish to reassure them that dramatic qualifica¬
tions of Lear’s insights do not negate those insights or make them invalid.
In fact, they might explain that student maps represent guides in an an¬
tiformalist terrain. My next-to-last segment concerned with Lear consists
of a detailed survey of this terrain. Teachers can gain an understanding of
the antiformalist features of Lear from the following studies: John
Holloway, The Story of the Night; Nicholas Brooke, “The Ending of King
Lear”; Michael Goldman, Shakespeare and the Energies of Drama; Richard
Fly, Shakespeare’s Mediated World; Edward Pechter, “On the Blinding of
Gloucester,” and James Black, “King Lear: Art Upside-Down.” Fly shows
how scene, language, and character in King Lear decompose or deteri¬
orate: how Edgar’s view from Dover Cliff collapses before nothingness;
how Lear’s character fragments into the “shadows” of fool and madman;
and how the ritual speech of the opening scene declines to howls, curses,
and the numbing repetition of the single word never. Holloway observes
that the play could end with act IV and explains that in the fifth act Shake¬
speare keeps raising formal expectations that the tragedy will end, only to
shock onlookers with renewed savagery. Edmund, Edgar, and Albany in
turn try to provide ending speeches for a tragedy, only to fail as disaster
continues, seemingly with a life of its own. Brooke identifies at least six
false endings to the play. Even Bradley, dependent on Aristotelian aes¬
thetics, admits that King Lear, marked by an unparalleled first-act crisis
and reversal of the situation, a demise of the protagonist dangerously
stretched over four acts, and a curious fourth-act rising action, does not il¬
lustrate a neat five-phase development. In order to make the play fit into
his formalist scheme, he is forced into naming Goneril, Regan, and
Edmund de facto protagonists.
With the exception of Bradley, all the above-named critics discuss
episodes or speeches in King Lear in which Shakespeare leads us to an¬
ticipate order or success only to thwart it. For example, readers expect
Cornwall’s intervening servant to preserve Gloucester from total blind¬
ness, but they see Cornwall finish his gruesome task because the servant
has reminded him that Gloucester has one eye left by which he can see jus¬
tice done. They expect Tom O’Bedlam’s moralizing about the sin of
adultery to be directed to the lustful Gloucester, but they hear it applied in¬
stead to Lear. They expect Cordelia and Lear to be on the “right” side, but
they see them invade Britain under the flag of the traditional enemy,
France. They expect Edgar’s promises to bring Gloucester comfort, but
they see Edgar reenter immediately with the news that Lear and Cordelia
have lost the battle. They expect Albany’s prayer—“The gods defend
her!”—to prevent the strangling of Cordelia, but, horrified, they see Lear
enter straightaway with his dead daughter in his arms. They expect that
 Maurice Hunt 97

Kent will be recognized and rewarded for his faithful service, but they hear
Lear s vague dismissal of the man instead. They expect to hear a strong
speech of continuity at the end of the play, like that delivered by Fortin-
bras, but they listen instead to Edgar’s disturbing suggestion that the
younger generation can only sustain the mutilated state before suffering an
early death. Obviously, reversals of expectation abound. Taken as a whole,
such reversals convince students that Shakespeare was intent on dramatiz¬
ing events and attitudes that repeatedly block attempts to find either a just
or pleasing order in the play.
Nevertheless, King Lear, in the last analysis, is not a nihilistic play. A
teacher can conclude by observing that undergraduates have recorded
genuine insights into the superfluousness of social class and rich garments,
into the need for patience and absolute charity, and into the arbitrariness
of earthly justice. King Lear is not a nihilistic play, because father and
daughter achieve a mutual understanding of the quality (as opposed to the
quantity) of love. This quality can be heard in those tender words of Cor¬
delia spoken to her awakened father. It can also be heard in Lear’s prayer
and in his response to “unaccommodated man’’ in act III. Finally, it can
best be appreciated in the reconciled king’s wish to withdraw to prison,
away from the world of his victorious enemies, with only his beloved Cor¬
delia as his resource. This sensitive speech, in which Lear desires to sing
joyfully, lovingly, like a bird in a cage, expresses his new qualitative knowl¬
edge of love. This knowledge makes possible Lear’s final insight, in which
he sees (or thinks that he sees) Cordelia’s soul escaping at her lips. Such
speeches will always provide an effective conclusion to a discussion of King
Lear. They are also especially meaningful outer limits for student maps of a
rugged and surprising tragic world—a world that seems even more uncon¬
ventional when students immediately turn to a play like Sejanus, predict¬
ably crafted according to neoclassical method.
Shakespearean Tragedy in a Renaissance Context:
King Lear and Hooker’s Of the Laws of
Ecclesiastical Polity
Bruce W. Young

When I was asked to teach a section of Harvard’s introductory survey, I

found that all sections of the course were to use the same syllabus and
anthology. Fortunately, the anthology I was to use, The Norton Anthology of
English Literature, is well suited to the approach I take. It includes King
Lear—in fact, it is the only anthology used widely in historical surveys to do
so—but it also includes a wealth of material by lesser writers of the same
period, much of which can be used in connection with Shakespeare.
Teaching King Lear as part of a British literature survey has its disadvan¬
tages, most prominently the absence of the context that a dozen or so other
Shakespearean plays would provide. But it offers one advantage in return:
the presence of other works from the Renaissance that provide another
kind of context. The most important of these works for the approach I take
is Richard Hooker’s Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. I have found other
writers useful as well, but a look at Hooker will be sufficient to illustrate my
approach. In essence, I set passages from Renaissance writers—in this case
Hooker—alongside passages from Lear, with the aim of helping students to
become aware of ideas, attitudes, and thematic patterns that the works
have in common. At the same time, I point to differences in the treatment
the writers give to similar themes. This approach derives from my convic¬
tion that by setting King Lear in its Renaissance context, teachers may help
students to a richer and more informed understanding of the play.
The Norton Anthology has labeled one of its selections from Hooker
“The Law of Nature.” Nature, as many have noted, is also one of Lear’s most
important words. But when we think of nature in Lear, we must remove the
overlay of ideas that have become attached to the word in the three and a
half centuries separating us from Shakespeare. For the Renaissance, nature
meant primarily the created universe, usually viewed in one of three ways:
as a structure of laws, as the material substance governed by these laws, or
as the active power giving the universe its life and motion. The passages
from Hooker in the Norton Anthology allude to all three. Hooker conceives
of nature as a great, harmonious structure, normally productive and life-
giving, with celestial spheres” following their “wonted motions,” “the
times and seasons” pursuing an orderly course, and the winds, clouds, and
plant life of “this lower world” all carrying out their usual functions (1037).
This harmony, according to Hooker, extends, or ought to extend, to human
life as well as to the other elements of the world. Just as other creatures

98
 Bruce W. Young 99

have prescribed natures, so humankind has what Hooker calls “the law of
[its] nature.” Human beings are made aware of this law by their “natural
discourse,” or reason, through which they hear the “voice” of Nature,
teaching “laws and statutes to live by.” As with other creatures, if human
beings obey the “law of [their] nature,” good follows; if they disobey it, the
result is misery and confusion (1038-40).
Nature appears in many guises in King Lear, but among them are those
stressed by Hooker: nature as an ordered structure and as a life-giving
force. Most of the characters see themselves as part of an interconnected
structure governed by divine power (see, for example, Lear’s reference to
“the orbs / From whom we do exist and cease to be” [I.i.107-10]).
Moreover, they attribute the powers of life to nature: Lear speaks of
“Nature’s molds,” which contain the “germens,” or seeds, of life (III.ii.8-9),
and refers to nature’s normal “purpose” of making the womb “fruitful”
(I.iv.254-56).
Like Hooker, the characters in King Lear assume that nature, besides or¬
dering the world in general, also prescribes right behavior for human
beings. Hospitality, gratitude to benefactors, loyalty and kindness between
parents and children—all these are felt to be “natural.” Lear speaks of the
“offices,” or duties, “of nature” and associates them with the “bond of
childhood, / Effects of courtesy,” and “dues of gratitude” (II.iv.172-73).
Gloucester (though mistakenly) calls Edmund a “Loyal and natural boy”
(II.i.85) and expects the “sparks of nature” to kindle filial piety in him
(III.vii.89). On the other hand, disloyalty to king and father is called “un¬
natural” (III.iii.1).
The events of the play show, of course, that nature can be anything but
harmonious and life-giving. But even the disharmony and death in Lear are
viewed by most of its characters as departures from nature’s established
norm. When Lear curses Goneril, for instance, he asks nature to “suspend”
its normal “purpose” and either make his daughter sterile or else give her a
“denatured” child (I.iv.254-62). Here again, Hooker can be helpful in
making explicit the assumptions at work in the play, for despite his em¬
phasis on nature’s harmony, he recognizes that in the world of actual ex¬
perience nature may be a scene of chaos and destruction. Lear’s invocation
of the destructive powers of nature—“Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!
rage! blow! / ,.. And thou, all-shaking thunder, / Smite flat the thick rotun¬
dity o’ the world!” (III.ii.1, 6-7)—is paralleled by Hooker’s vision of chaos.
Hooker imagines a world of confusion and sterility in which the “frame” of
heaven “loosen [s] and dissolve [s] itself,” the “celestial spheres ... forget
their wonted motions,” the seasons blend in a “disordered and confused
mixture,” and the earth, “defeated of heavenly influence,” ceases to bear
fruit—all the presumed result of nature’s failure, though it were but for a
while,” to observe “her own laws” (1037). The world, as Hooker conceives
100 SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGEDY IN A RENAISSANCE CONTEXT

it, is “so compacted that as long as each thing performeth only that work
which is natural unto it, it thereby preserveth both other things and also it¬
self yet it is the very intricacy and connectedness of the natural order
that make ruin the inevitable consequence if “any principal thing ... but
once cease or fail, or swerve” (1039).
Such chaos is not, for Hooker, the normal or usual order of things. Yet the
imperfection he sees in nature—especially in human nature—means that
some degree of disharmony is to be expected. “Swervings”—that is, depar¬
tures from law—are, he says, “now and then incident into the course of Na¬
ture,” because the “matter whereof natural things consist” is corrupt and
imperfect, so that it sometimes proves “uncapable” of perfect harmony
(1038). Human nature, too, is corrupt: “deformities” and “festered sores”
mark our moral natures, and “the natural understanding” of whole nations
has been “darkened” (1042). At times, Hooker presents this view with a
bluntness that almost anticipates Hobbes, asserting, for instance, that “the
will of man” must be presumed generally “to be inwardly obstinate,
rebellious, and averse from all obedience unto the sacred laws of his na¬
ture” and that man must be held “in regard of his depraved mind little bet¬
ter than a wild beast” (1040). This last phrase recalls the profusion of
animal imagery in Lear—the frequent comparison of human beings to
dogs, wolves, tigers, serpents, boars, and so on—used, as in Hooker, to sug¬
gest human corruption.
But the resemblance between Lear and Hooker on this matter extends
beyond imagery. Lear’s indictment of humanity and the social order in
Ill.vi and IV.vi, though presented as the ravings of a madman, has its roots
in the concept of human depravity. Besides being prone to evil, human na¬
ture is also weak, subject to sickness (II.iv.99-106; IV.vi. 103-04: “ I am not
ague-proof”) and to the decline that comes with age (II.iv.139-41).
Human beings are exposed to the evils of others and to the fury of the ele¬
ments (III.i.1—15; III.iv.29-33): we are told, during one of the scenes on
the heath, that “The tyranny of the open night’s too rough / For nature to
endure” (III.iv.2-3).
Edmund is the play’s prime example of the corruption of nature and the
misuse of its powers. Nature, for Edmund, is the opposite of law. He in¬
vokes Nature as his goddess because he has acquired from her (he claims)
“more composition and fierce quality,” more of the energies of life, than
conventional procreation could give “a whole tribe” of legitimate offspring
(I.ii.l—15). He later uses the word nature to describe his individual charac¬
teristics, specifically his tendency toward ruthless self-promotion: he will
do one last good deed “Despite of [his] own nature” (V.iii.243).
Obviously, Hooker does not share Edmund’s view. Yet, like Edmund,
Hooker sometimes uses the word nature to mean “individual endowment,”
including the sort of energy and strength Edmund possesses. In a passage
 Bruce W. Young 101

that could apply to Edmund, Hooker asks, “For hath not Nature furnished
man with wit and valor, as it were with armor ... ?” Where Hooker differs
from Edmund is in warning that this natural endowment may be used “as
well unto extreme evil as good” and in asserting that to use it for evil is con¬
trary to natural law (1041-42). For Edmund, disloyalty and self-seeking are
natural ; nature includes the wildest of energies and is unbound by law.
But for Hooker, this view of nature is one-sided: Edmund and the “nature”
he invokes would be examples of “nature depraved” (1040).
For both Hooker and Shakespeare, chaos and destruction enter into the
world of nature through the violation of natural law. When human beings
transgress the “law of [their] nature,” Hooker writes, “tribulation and
anguish” follow (1039). The laws Hooker is thinking of include the very
ones broken in Lear: the laws of loyalty, kindness, and filial piety. King
Lear is largely, in fact, a play about the violation of the natural order and
the consequences of such violation. The consequences turn out to be just
those Hooker describes: “strife, contention, and violence,” and finally mis¬
ery and ruin (1041). Or as Gloucester puts it: “... in cities, mutinies; in
countries, discord; in palaces, treason.... Machinations, hollowness,
treachery, and all ruinous disorders ...” (I.ii.97-103). The major violators
of natural law eventually incur retribution: Goneril, Regan, and Cornwall
fall prey to the destructive forces they have unleashed, and for Edmund,
too, the “wheel” finally comes “full circle” (V.iii.173).
But Shakespeare complicates this pattern of cause and effect by making
the misery several characters experience exceed anything they can
possibly have deserved. The very structure of the play rests on the assump¬
tion that the characters’ actions have consequences: Gloucester’s adultery
produces a bastard who seeks his death (see V.iii.169-72); Cordelia’s
words (or lack of them) wrench Lear’s “frame of nature / From the fixed
place,” turning the natural love of a father to hate (I.iv.245-49); Lear’s
foolishness and pride set off the chain of events leading to his misery and
madness. Yet no interpretation of Lear, Gloucester, or Cordelia can
reasonably make their faults commensurate with what they suffer. Much of
the play’s power, in fact, derives from this apparent contradiction between
justice and the operation of natural law.
While it would be a mistake to try to explain away this tension, I am con¬
vinced that, even in this case, seeing the play in its Renaissance context
adds to rather than detracts from its power. Here again, passages from
Hooker help us understand Lear, for Hooker recognizes the tension be¬
tween nature and justice and even makes that tension part of a coherent
view of the world. Besides the general principle of natural law, Hooker
notes three subordinate principles that influence nature’s operation, mak¬
ing it something rather more complicated than a simple instrument of
“poetic justice” in which individuals’ earthly happiness and suffering are
102 SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGEDY IN A RENAISSANCE CONTEXT

measured strictly according to their good and evil deeds. The first of these
principles is that the effects of an evil deed are not limited to the doer. If
any “principal” element of the natural order “fails” or “swerves,’ Hooker
writes, the “sequel thereof” will be “ruin both to itself and whatsoever
dependeth upon it” (1039). The world is so interconnected, in other
words, that the effects of one person’s deeds may help or harm many
others.
The second principle is that we may be carried into evil by circum¬
stances or by the acts of others “against our wills, or constrainedly.” In
such cases,” Hooker says, “ ... the evil which is done moveth compassion;
men are pitied for it, as being rather miserable in such respect than culp¬
able” (1039-40). Hooker’s words are echoed by Lear’s claim that he is
“More sinned against than sinning” (III.ii.57—58) and by the whole series
of horrors perpetrated by the play’s characters against one another.
The third principle affecting nature is its corrupt and imperfect state, a
state whose cause is to be found in humanity and in its original violation of
divine law. Nature’s corruption, says Hooker, is a consequence of “divine
malediction, laid for the sin of man upon those creatures which God had
made for the use of man” (1038). Human sin has this effect because of the
place humanity holds in an intricately interconnected universe. According
to Hooker, “man ... [is] a very world in himself” (1039)—a microcosm, in
other words, so connected with the cosmos that his violation of law pro¬
duces chaos in the world as a whole. Here a teacher comparing Hooker and
Lear may wish to introduce supplementary material to show that Hooker’s
concept was standard in the Renaissance. Theodore Spencer, for instance,
in his summary of the Renaissance view, exactly repeats Hooker’s idea:
“when Adam fell, Nature fell too” (25). Further substantiation is offered by
John F. Danby and Geoffrey Bush: both writers discuss the Renaissance
view of nature as an ideal, but also as a fallen reality.
For Hooker, the world’s fallen condition helps explain its seeming injus¬
tices. The mere fact of living in a fallen world means that one is exposed to
violence and misery not of one’s own making. And this fallen condition
cannot, according to Hooker, be expected to yield itself fully to human at¬
tempts to improve it. Though human laws and governments may curtail
some of the evils of nature’s fall, they will never do so perfectly:

... the stains and blemishes found in our state,... springing from the
root of human frailty and corruption, not only are, but have always
been more or less—yea, and for anything we know to the contrary
will be till the world’s end—complained of.... (1036)
 Bruce W. Young 103

Again, Hooker was not alone in this opinion. The common view, according
to Theodore Spencer, was that both nature and human nature are “in¬
curably corrupted” (26). Indeed, it was felt that nature would decline,
rather than improve, until the end of the world, when, after cataclysmic
destruction, all things would be “made new” (see Shakespeare’s sonnet 55;
also Spencer; Danby; and Bush).
In King Lear Shakespeare joins Hooker, and Renaissance thinkers
generally, in assuming that nature has undergone a fall and that nature’s
fallen condition derives from humanity. Nature, says a “gentleman” in
Lear, is under a “general curse” brought about by human wrongdoing
(IV.vi.201). As in Hooker, a human being is a microcosm—the “little world
of man” (III.i.10)—whose condition affects and is affected by the larger
cosmos. The chaos we see in individuals, including “The tempest in
[Lear’s] mind” (III.iv.13), is paralleled by chaos in society7 and in the cos¬
mos. Furthermore, the play (like the Laws) asserts that nature is in decline.
By the end of the play, wasted by age and by what he has suffered, Lear is
called by Gloucester a “ruined piece of nature.” As Gloucester goes on to
point out, Lear’s condition reflects that of the world as a whole, for, like
Lear, so shall “This great world /... wear out to nought” (IV.vi.133-34).
This story of human weakness and decline takes place in a world that is it¬
self in decline, so much so that Kent and Edgar, viewing the final events of
the play, wonder if they are witnessing “the promised end”—the end of the
world—or only an “image of that horror” (V.iii.262-63). Thus, even in a
play unquestionably pagan in setting, Shakespeare draws freely on the
Christian idea of the Apocalypse, the era of tribulation and judgment that
will accompany the end of this fallen world.
In most important respects, then, Shakespeare’s picture of the world is
similar to Hooker’s, and both use the word nature in closely parallel ways:
nature may refer to the ideal structure of the world, the laws that should
govern human behavior, the energies that normally sustain the life and mo¬
tion of the world (but that may be turned to violence), the unique endow¬
ment of individuals, and the fallen and corrupt condition in which both in¬
dividuals and the world as a whole participate.
The parallels between Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity and King Lear
thus include shared assumptions about the nature of reality. By “parallels” I
do not, of course, mean exact repetitions. But even where differences are
concerned, the two works make an especially illuminating pair. Hooker
presents the orthodox view in eloquent but straightforward prose. Shake¬
speare, through a much different literary medium, both expresses and
challenges important aspects of the orthodox view. The ideas in King Lear
are less consistent and harmonious than those articulated by Hooker—
104 SHAKESPEAREAN TRAGEDY IN A RENAISSANCE CONTEXT

partly because Lear attempts to reproduce some of the richness and con¬
tradiction of reality, pardy because a playwright understandably takes
greater interest in setting ideas in conflict than in organizing them into a
consistent system. But, despite these differences, the ideas in the two
works are much the same and present a view of the world and human life
that Shakespeare and Hooker shared with most of their contemporaries.
 Teaching with a Proper Text
Michael Warren

Enter Cordelia, Doctor, and others. (Ql)

Enter with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Gentlemen,
and Souldiours. (FI)
Enter, with Drum and Colors, CORDELIA, [DOCTOR], and
SOLDIERS. (Evans, Riverside Shakespeare IV.iv)

Special problems attend the determination of a text for teaching King Lear;
similar problems may yet attend the teaching of other Shakespeare plays,
although the issues for those plays may not be so critical. Simply stated, re¬
cent research has called into question the authority and validity of all avail¬
able modern editions of the play, and therefore of the criticism based upon
them. It proposes instead two versions of King Lear, each susceptible of
distinctive interpretation.

There are three early publications of King Lear: a first quarto (Ql)
published in 1608; a second quarto (Q2) published in 1619, but with a title
page that is falsely dated 1608; and the printing of the play in the First
Folio (FI) in 1623. Ql and Q2 are relatively similar. Q2 is generally re¬
garded as a reprint of a copy of Ql with some alterations in spelling,
punctuation, and lineation but few authoritative alterations in substantives
(words as units of meaning, by contrast to accidentals, which include spell¬
ing, punctuation, etc.); consequently, it is of little concern here. The
variations between Ql and FI, however, are great and very important. Ql
contains a scene, sequences, speeches, and lines that FI does not; FI con¬
tains sequences, speeches, and lines that Ql does not. Speech assignments,
stage directions, and individual words vary extensively from text to text. Ql
contains approximately 300 lines that are not in FI, and FI contains ap¬
proximately 100 lines that are not in Ql (FI is about 3,300 lines long). The
traditional and conventional view of these two texts of Lear, expressed in
the textual notes of almost all standard editions of the play, is that each is an
imperfect recension of the original play that Shakespeare wrote; that that
original play contained all the Q-only material and F-only material; and
that all variants between the two texts are the result of corruption in one or
the other. Editors have generally attempted within this hypothesis to iden¬
tify the distinctive qualities of these two texts, to explain their features, and

105
106 TEACHING WITH A PROPER TEXT

in the light of the explanation to eliminate the identified corruption and to

restore thereby, however approximately, the original form and details of
Shakespeare’s play. Various explanations have been advanced for the ap¬
parently imperfect state of Ql; some relation to foul papers (Shake¬
speare’s “original draft”) has customarily been proposed, but actors’
memorial contamination has also been detected in it. FI has usually been
regarded as less corrupt than Ql; scholars have traditionally proposed its
origin in a copy of either Ql or Q2 that had been modified by comparison
with a theatrical promptbook. Consequendy FI has been considered the
more authoritative text—that which approximates more nearly the sup¬
posed authorial original—and it is FI that has been used as the copy-text
for most editions. However, since Theobald’s edition of 1733 all edited
publications of the play have conflated the two texts, printing “all that
Shakespeare wrote.” Where substantive variants have occurred, editors
have proceeded eclectically, choosing on the basis of hypotheses of origins
and transmission “the better reading” from either text. Thus a modern
edited text of King Lear, such a text as most Shakespeareans have
habitually read, studied, taught, acted, or directed, is a play that did not
exist in print until 117 years after the death of its author. (G. Blakemore
Evans provides an excellent statement of the standard editorial process in
relation to King Lear in “The Editing of a Shakespearean Play,” a section of
his highly recommended introductory essay “Shakespeare’s Text” in The
Riverside Shakespeare.)
Recent research has challenged the authority of this construct as rep¬
resenting “Shakespeare’s King Lear.” A number of scholars have attacked
the hypothesis that Ql and FI are variously corrupt recensions of a single
original and have proposed instead that the two versions are separate and
distinct works on the subject of King Lear: see Michael J. Warren, “Quarto
and Folio King Lear and the Interpretation of Albany and Edgar”; Gary
Taylor, The War in King Lear”; Steven Urkowitz, Shakespeare’s Revision of
King Lear; P. W. K. Stone, The Textual History of King Lear; Peter W. M.
Blayney, The Texts of King Lear and Their Origins (Vol. 1: Nicholas Okes
and the First Quarto); and the essays in Gary Taylor and Michael Warren,
eds., The Division of the Kingdoms: Shakespeare’s Two Versions of King
Lear. In looking beyond the isolated variant to patterns of variation, and
considering particularly their implications for characterization, interpreta¬
tion, staging, and performance, these scholars have proposed that the two
texts are sufficiently different to be regarded as separate entities and,
therefore, should not now be conflated, since they were not together in the
first place. In this view there is not a single play but an earlier version, rep¬
resented by Ql, and a later version, represented by FI; moreover, with the
ideal text discredited, neither early printed text appears corrupt to the
degree that has usually been assumed, although each has its idiosyncrasies
 Michael Warren 107

and problems. In fact, it has now been proposed that Q1 derives directly
from foul papers, while FI, although still thought to be printed from some
combination of materials relating to Ql, Q2, and a promptbook, is dis¬
cerned as revealing the intervention of Shakespeare’s revising hand (Stone
and Blayney do not subscribe to the identification of Shakespeare as the
reviser).
The implications of this new hypothesis are clear: for 250 years Shake¬
speare’s King Lear plays have been obscured by a construct of mistaken
scholarship; the standard editions are invalid and misleading; we now need
to think of two versions of King Lear; and we lack editions of those two ver¬
sions. Two early attempts at parallel-texts reprints of Ql and FI exist,
edited by Alvey Augustus Adee and Wilhelm Vietor, but they are rare, and
not wholly reliable. However, we do have access to good photographic re¬
productions in book form of both Ql and FI. W. W. Greg reproduces the
Gorhambury copy in King Lear 1608 (Pied Bull Quarto), now out of print;
Michael J. B. Allen and Kenneth Muir reproduce the Huntington Library
copy in Shakespeare Plays in Quarto. The Folio text is reproduced in The
Norton Facsimile: The First Folio of Shakespeare, ed. Charlton Hinman.
Both of the sources still in print are, unfortunately, quite costly, although
they should be present in the libraries of most universities and colleges. No
separate editions of Ql and FI have yet been prepared, and so the teacher
of King Lear must resort to special approaches.

II
Teaching King Lear to advanced undergraduate students and graduate
students involves a problem of access to materials. Such students must
clearly be taught in a way that keeps the textual issue foremost: they need
to be introduced to the problems of establishing texts, to confront two ver¬
sions, and to study two plays. They will need to study the earliest printed
originals, presumably with the commentary that a conventional edition
with text, apparatus, and textual and critical introduction and commentary
provides (in this respect the Muir edition is the most useful, although the
collation is selective). Advanced students, then, will consult the library’s
photographic reprints regularly; in this connection King Lear is a par¬
ticularly valuable subject for study in graduate courses, since it introduces
the student to bibliographical matters that raise questions in critical,
editorial, and educational theory. However, both advanced students and
their teachers may also take advantage of the method that I propose for use
with classes of less specialized students.
King Lear is widely taught in courses where the students are far more
diverse and where the object is not to train students in the study of litera-
 108 TEACHING WITH A PROPER TEXT

ture but to introduce them to a major work of European literature; such

courses customarily use one of the many editions of the play currently
available, or a complete edition of Shakespeare’s works, or else The Norton
Anthology of English Literature. To such a heterogeneous and presumably
less sophisticated group the debate concerning the text may, perhaps, not
be relevant, although it can prove fascinating to them and should certainly
be mentioned. However, the question of teaching with a proper text does
present itself, for no one will teach error willingly. In this case, then, two
questions arise. First, which version shall one strive to teach, Q or F? Sec¬
ond, how shall one approximate the chosen version in any degree?
The version to be taught is a matter of individual choice: current
scholarship confinns the statement on the Q1 title page that Q1 represents
the form of the play that was initially acted, and research also suggests that
FI is the form of the play acted after it had been revised by Shakespeare in
the years 1609-10. Each may contain some transmissional corruption—Q1
has some notably confused passages, and FI, while superficially freer from
error, may contain misprints and other nonauthorial interventions, since
error is common in printed plays of the period. However, a choice has to be
made if only one King Lear is to be taught. My own inclination is to teach
FI, primarily because I hypothesize that in its revised state it is close to
Shakespeare’s final desires, but also, secondarily, because the teaching text
is relatively easily prepared. Such labor of preparation is exacting, but also
exhilarating and instructive.
When FI provides the copy-text for an edition—and both editions based
on Q1 (ed. M. R. Ridley and Jay L. Halio) are out of print—the text pro¬
duced consists of FI material into which passages not present in FI have
been introduced. At certain points also the editor will have preferred in¬
dividual Q1 readings where the two texts vary, judging that the earlier text
preserves the earlier form of which FI contains a corruption. The editor
may also have introduced some emendations in problematic passages and
will have adjusted the stage directions to conform to his or her view of the
action. The speech prefixes will have been regularized, the spelling and
punctuation modernized. Most editions include not only a note on the text
but also a selective list of variants indicating which material derives from
Q1 only or where Q1 readings have been preferred to those of FI,
although only in the Muir edition does this notation of variants appear on
the same page as the text; whatever the location of this notation, however,
its presence makes the task of adaptation easier. Moreover, some editions
(notably those edited by Evans, Harbage, and Bevington) place the Ql-
only material in brackets, in the way that most editions tend to bracket
editorial additions to stage directions. Indeed, the Evans edition marks
selected problematic readings by brackets also. By using the apparatus pro¬
vided and by constantly checking one’s work against The Norton Facsimile
 Michael Warren 109

of FI, one can eradicate from a conventional edition of King Lear the Q1
elements that complicate and distort the FI version. Students, then, may
still work from a modernized edition that provides notes and other aids
to interpretation.
If this procedure is followed, certain features of the conventional text
will be conspicuously absent. For instance, Ill.i will be much shortened,
and it will be especially clarified by the removal from Kent’s long speech of
lines 30-42, “But true it is.... This office to you” (I cite the numbering in
Evans). The mock trial will be eliminated from Ill.vi (lines 17-56), as well
as Kent’s and Edgar’s last speeches (lines 97-101,102-15). The conversa¬
tion of the servants after the blinding of Gloucester will be cut (III.vii.99-
107). The confrontation of Albany and Goneril in IV.ii will appear in ab¬
breviated form (lines 31-50, 53-59, 62-69 being omitted); the whole of
IV.iii will be deleted; and the last act will undergo (among many important
small modifications) an alteration of Edmund’s role during the Herald’s ac¬
tivities and the omission of Edgar’s report of his meeting with Kent over
the body of Gloucester (V.iii.205-22); the attribution of the last speech to
Edgar will no longer be a matter for debate.
This list is just a selection of major changes; numerous smaller changes
will also be necessary, although in a few cases the teacher may wish to con¬
sult the discussions of alternative readings in the critical literature con¬
cerning the play, especially Shakespeare’s King Lear: A Critical Edition, ed.
George Ian Duthie; the Cambridge King Lear, ed. George Ian Duthie and
John Dover Wilson; the Arden King Lear, ed. Kenneth Muir; and the works
of recent scholarship cited earlier in this essay (Taylor and Warren’s Divi¬
sion of the Kingdoms contains an index of passages discussed and a similar
index to all the other recent works except Blayney’s, which contains its
own index). The teacher should remember, however, that any discussion of
variants will be influenced by the general textual hypothesis that in¬
forms a work.
The resulting edition no doubt will be less than perfectly satisfactory for
teaching. To dictate a whole series of modifications to a textbook, or to
place a master copy for consultation in advance at a specified location, is
not a desirable activity prior to teaching a play to a general audience of
students, but it is necessary (at least temporarily), and it allows one to teach
with a confidence of integrity in the endeavor. Several forthcoming
publications will help considerably. The Complete Oxford Shakespeare,
projected for publication in 1986 in separate modernized- and old-spelling
formats, will contain two King Lear plays. Subsequentiy, the Oxford En¬
glish Texts edition, with full critical and textual apparatus, will also follow the
hypothesis that there are two versions. Volume 2 of Peter W. M. Blayney’s
The Texts of King Lear and Their Origins will contain an edited text of Ql. I
myself hope to produce a new parallel-texts presentation of Ql and FI.
110 TEACHING WITH A PROPER TEXT

New editions will be produced, and old editions—presumably including

The Norton Anthology of English Literature—will need to be revised. Soon
teachers will be able to choose to teach either the earlier or the later King
Lear to general students, and advanced students and scholars will benefit
from the amplitude of commentary that these editions will provide upon
their problematic originals, Q1 and FI.
 A Theatrical Approach:
King Lear as Performance and Experience
J. L. Styan

I shall not use space to argue further the virtues of teaching a play by per¬
formance methods or to discuss the many ways of doing so: many have at¬
tested to the vivid immediacy with which a text can be brought to life when
students act out a few lines, even at first reading and even with books in
hand. Students who have no training as actors will usually surprise them¬
selves when they lend their bodies and voices to a scene to demonstrate
how a point in a play is to be seen and heard and communicated. Instruc¬
tors can facilitate this process by not casting the parts themselves but divid¬
ing the class into small working groups, each of which discusses, casts, and
rehearses a brief scene out of class. Presenting such makeshift perfor¬
mance at the next meeting of the class, if necessary with two or more teams
in competition, invariably stimulates pertinent discussion. Getting the text
off the page is the kindest thing a teacher can do to a play, and I would
argue that no playwright profits more from this approach than Shake¬
speare, and no play is more rich in scenes and incidents that illustrate his
range of skills than King Lear. Of all plays, this one offers so much to talk
about, but I would never think of teaching it at any level (freshman to doc¬
toral) without the use of performance.
A theatrical approach can draw attention to two qualities in this play.
First, it permits the instructor to refute point by point the hallowed argu¬
ment that Lear is “too huge for the stage” (Bradley 200) or, more
specifically, that “the plays of Shakespeare are less calculated for perfor¬
mance on a stage, than those of almost any other dramatist whatever”
(Lamb 28). In practice, one is astonished at the degree of particularity with
which Shakespeare has imagined each scene in performance and proposed
the “controls” that can ensure a maximum response. In scenes of more
naturalistic behavior, like that of Cordelia’s waking the king from his mad¬
ness, the playwright supplies, moment by moment, a guide to the detailed
gestures and movements that will make the scene work: at such times, Lear
becomes a play of minutiae, of pins and buttons and feathers, despite its
grand scale. At another extreme, specifically ritualistic scenes that make
full use of the Globe platform—as when the king divides his kingdom, or
strips off his royal garments to look like a Bedlam beggar, or enters with his
dead daughter in his arms—are exacdy visualized, so that the implicit
directions in the text invite both demonstration and discussion of the
scenes’ intentions. I like to think that Shakespeare was himself responsible
even for the precise insertions in the Folio of those cues for offstage effects,
“Storm still” (meaning “more storm”), each like a voice from God.

Ill
112 A THEATRICAL APPROACH: KING LEAR AS PERFORMANCE AND EXPERIENCE

A second justification for a performance approach in class has to do,

perhaps surprisingly, with the carefully calculated shape of the whole play.
We can assess this shape as we progress from disliking Lear to sympathiz¬
ing with him and as we trace his passage on the “wheel of fire” from the
tyranny and discord of the early court scenes to the madness and chaos on
the heath and then to the humility and harmony of the prison. By making
sure that the segments chosen to study and perform trace the orchestration
of changes through the whole play, the instructor can successfully convey
the relentless advance of the action through its pattern of moods and tones,
working simultaneously on narrative, moral, psychological, and musical or
poetic levels. The simplest way for the class to enjoy a direct experience of
the tragedy while keeping the total picture in view is to work on a se¬
quence of scenes showing strongly contrasting views of the king: first as
tyrant on his throne; then as abused father, in a scene with either Goneril
or Regan; then as insane but demonstrating his new-found “reason in mad¬
ness”; and finally as tragic victim. When time was short, I have managed
this kind of sampling by placing four Lears in the four corners of the room
to read four contrasting speeches, which at least suggest how the poetry
changes as the play develops.
Even a plan that samples the major dramatic shifts of feeling and re¬
sponse will not embrace all of the special features of this play. Time is well
spent on the study of such elements as its physical horror (the blinding of
Gloucester and the connection with Elizabethan bearbaiting), the uses of
the popular ingredient of disguise (the extraordinary sequence of roles re¬
quired of Edgar, with the reason for each), and the black-comic or gro¬
tesque thread that runs through the play (best exemplified, perhaps, by the
scene of Gloucester’s attempted suicide from Dover Cliff, although the
Fool’s commentary as his master’s alter ego or Edgar’s frantic performance
as Poor Tom, the sane man’s idea of the madman, would also serve).
If King Lear is not too huge for the stage, it may be so for the curriculum.
However, it is comforting to report that none of the play’s individual scenes
is too huge for the classroom, where the usual institutional bareness and
total lack of theatrical features may even enhance its simple and powerful
poetry and drama. The following is a condensed list of the scenes or
segments I have used for class performance at one time or another. The as¬
terisks mark those scenes that I have found most effective with be¬
ginning students.

Muir edition Subject Performance points

reference

A. I.i.1-23 Introducing Edmund stage space, character

B. I.i.34-93 “Dividing the kingdom ritual stage, contrast of
character
 J. L. Sty an 113

Muir edition Subject Performance points

reference
c. I.i.283-308 The sisters plot against use of prose vs. verse
the king
D. I.ii.1-46 Edmund and the letter address to audience
E. I.iv.45-100 Oswald insults the king use of entrances,
movement, group
responses
F. I.iv.197-239 “Goneril confronts the stage space, contrast of
king voices
G. II.iv.1-27 Kent in the stocks use of prose vs. verse
H. ILiv.184-288 Goneril joins Regan visual and vocal
devices, 1,ear’s
progress to madness
I. IH.iL 1-36 King and Fool in the use of poetry, mime
storm
J- III.iv.1-36 “Lear before the hovel use of platform, address
to audience
K. III.iv.37-112 The king meets the use of platform,
beggar symbolic action
L. III.vi.1-88 The mad trial ironic comedy
M. Ill.vii. 1 —93 Blinding Gloucester ritual use of the stage
N. IV.vi.1-74 “On Dover Cliff comic use of the stage
O. IV.vi.80-189 Blind man meets character contrast
madman
P. IV.vii. 17-84 “Waking Lear movement, space,
gesture
V.iii.1-40 The king and Cordelia contrast in groups,
Q
in prison voices
R. V.iii.221-57 Death of the sisters sequence of entrances
S. V.iii.257-326 Death of Lear pace, tone, character

From this list of scenes I have selected a few points of performance that
have afforded unexpected insights into the meaning of the action when
students, usually working in competing groups, have tried out different
ways of playing them. All quotations are from Muir’s edition of the play.

A. Introducing Edmund. This important incident, coming immediately

before the opening court scene, is often overlooked. Yet it not only an¬
nounces the scene to come but prepares the audience to look with keener
eyes to the parent/child relationships about to be portrayed. To make the
point, one should first have the three men, Gloucester, Kent, and Edmund,
enter as a group, so that the father talks about his bastaid son in the
son’s presence:
114 A THEATRICAL APPROACH: KING LEAR AS PERFORMANCE AND EXPERIENCE

Kent. Is not this your son, my Lord?

Gloucester. His breeding, Sir, hath been at my charge: I have so
often blush’d to acknowledge him, that now I am braz’d to’t.
Kent. I cannot conceive you.
Gloucester. Sir, this young fellow’s mother could....

The class will judge that there is far more force and meaning if Edmund
makes a separate entrance and stands apart while he sees the older men
talking about him and laughing. When his father calls him over to meet
Kent, everyone will hear an innuendo in Edmund’s voice:

Gloucester. ... Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?

Edmund. No, my Lord.
Gloucester. My Lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my hon¬
orable friend.
Edmund. My services to your Lordship.

B. Dividing the kingdom. Several issues here. The image of Lear will be
determined from the start by the way he enters, sits on a throne, and gives
his orders. The text ambiguously invites both senility and vigorous old age;
it is best to try the spectrum of possibilities (in Peter Brook’s production,
Paul Scofield as Lear failed to enter on cue or from the expected direction
but pushed through the assembled courtiers from one side, powerfully con¬
veying his individuality). The teacher may try different places and sizes for
the map: on a table, on the wall, on the floor.
The major contrasts in Goneril and Regan and their opening speeches
will be effectively supported if the sisters are placed opposite one another
and visibly respond to one another’s lines, so that we watch their reactions
as well as Lear’s. An icy smile from Regan on her line “Only she comes too
short” should cap this silent exchange between the sisters.
To arrange Cordelia outside the symmetrical frame of the court not only
allows her to speak her asides directly to the audience but also makes her
known well in advance of her answer to the king. “What shall Cordelia
speak? Love, and be silent” also prepares us a little for the shock to come
and makes Lear’s expectant “Now, our joy ...” doubly tense with its irony.
Irony and tension will be redoubled if the king descends from his throne to
say his lines to Cordelia, or invites her to sit beside him, or even on his
knee. After the ritualistic address to Goneril and Regan, Lear’s change in
style and tone to one suggesting a more intimate relationship with the
audience and affection for his youngest daughter (preparatory to the collo¬
quial style of their exchange of “Nothing’s) can be intensely moving. A
game with their repeated “Nothing”—divided by pauses, spoken in a
variety of tones and inflections, marked first by Lear’s amusement, then by
 J. L. Sty an 115

his anger—provides a true lesson in Shakespeare’s stagecraft. It can also, of

course, introduce a pertinent discussion on the idea of “my bond.”

F. Goneril confronts the king. This segment may seem unwarranted, but
Granville-Barker’s preface suggested its virtues years ago, and I have found
it useful for illustrating the range of Shakespeare’s verse in the play:
Goneril’s smooth, paragraphic lines, Lear’s broken iambics, the Fool’s little
jingles and his prose. More than this, the playwright is here showing his
control of the space on an open stage and the uses to which it can be put.
Goneril enters, but that she does not speak for twelve lines should alert us
to a special effect intended. She probably stands glowering in silence at her
point of entrance, while Lear and the audience try to interpret her
thoughts. The Fool meanwhile comments on them both, perhaps passing
between them: most texts include the stage direction “To Goneril” before
his “Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face bids me, though you
say nothing,” but this direction is Pope’s and is not in quarto or First Folio; it
certainly inhibits the Fool’s freedom of movement (which matches his
freedom of speech: “That’s a sheal’d peascod,” “So out went the candle,”
and “Whoop, Jug! I love thee” are little springboards for his rapid changes
of posture and direction). And one small point: Lear’s five-syllable line,
“Are you our daughter?” should be spoken with the weight of five feet,
after which his mind shows its first signs of breaking.

H. Goneril joins Regan. It is worth drawing attention to the sequence of

Lear’s almost subliminal questions about Kent in the stocks as they increase
in significance for him:

Who put my man i’ th’ stocks?

Who stock’d my servant?
How came my man i’ th’ stocks?
You! did you?

They provide some steps for the actor on his path to madness, as well as
marking, by a kind of counterpoint, the development of the king’s response
to Shakespeare’s calculated sequence of highly offensive signals in the ac¬
tion: Goneril’s tucket, the entrance of Oswald, Regan’s showing the letter
from Goneril, the entrance of Goneril herself, the greeting she receives
from Regan (Lear: “O Regan! will you take her by the hand?”), and finally
Cornwall’s cold admission, “I set him there, Sir.”
Shakespeare’s habit of providing a sequence of steps for his actors by
which the progress of the scene may be measured also emerges later in the
same scene. The repetition of “Return to her?,” Return with her!,
“Return with her!” invites more than discussion of the structure of a major
116 A THEATRICAL APPROACH: KING LEAR AS PERFORMANCE AND EXPERIENCE

speech; it also touches his new status as a father without a family and a king
without a kingdom. Another sequence of steps follows in the wrangling
over the number of his knights: “I and my hundred knights,’ what! fifty
followers / Is it not well?,” “I entreat you / To bring but five-and-twenty,”
“What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five ... ?,” “What need one?”
Soon after this, the Folio gives first notice of the weather: “Storm and
Tempest. ”

J. Lear before the hovel. To play out this extraordinary scene may be suffi¬
cient commentary in itself. It makes evident use of the actors’ moving on
the empty stage, first to sustain the image of the storm, then to order Lear’s
movements to a downstage position, presumably in the center of the Globe
theater, before the onset of madness:

Thou ’ldst shun a bear;

But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea.
Thou ldst meet the bear i’ th’ mouth.

Lear’s prayer to “poor naked wretches” prepares the audience for the im¬
minent appearance of Edgar as Poor Tom (described in detail long before
in Il.iii), and this shocking entrance, preceded as it is by the running and
shouting of the Fool, is itself ironic as an enactment of madness when
Edgar enters running and shouting with false exaggeration. When Lear
tears off his robes (“Off, off, you lendings!”), the two threads of the play,
Lear’s and Gloucester’s, begin to intertwine in one astonishing image of
“unaccommodated man,” and the change is reinforced by the king’s rejec¬
tion of his former, “sophisticated” companions for the company of Poor
Tom: “First let me talk with this philosopher.”

M. Blinding Gloucester. One or two points may be missed because of this

scene’s sensationalism. The action seems to begin at breakneck speed, and
as the scheme to punish Gloucester is prepared, one should not overlook
that his son Edmund is party to it, remaining on stage in frightening
silence: nodding? smiling? Then one must not forget that he departs with
Goneril, under the eyes of her jealous rival Regan—leaving her in a par¬
ticularly nasty frame of mind before the torturing starts.
The text provides exact details on how Gloucester is to be blinded, and it
is important that the victim be tied to a chair if the visual analogy with bear-
baiting is to be supplied. The repetition of the line “Wherefore to Dover?”
can even be made to sound like the yapping of dogs. Finally, one must not
stop short of the blind man’s exit. The Folio’s “Exit one with Gloucester” can
be variously interpreted as pushing, pulling, or kicking him, but that he
 J. L. Styan 117

should crawl on all fours like an animal is clearly indicated by Regan: “Go
thrust him out at gates, and let him smell / His way to Dover.”

N. On Dover Cliff. Point by point, this scene offers a series of prime topics
for class discussion, particularly on the relation between the fates of Lear in
his insanity and of Gloucester in his impulse to suicide. The presence of the
comic in the play also emerges unavoidably here. First, was there, or was
there not, a “cliff ” on the platform of the Globe? If there was none, what
kind and degree of laughter is implied by the action, and with what effect
on our perception of suicide? Again, only performance can identify the
kind of comedy expected by the opening lines of the scene:

Gloucester. When shall I come to th’ top of that same hill?

Edgar. You do climb up it now; look how we labour.
Gloucester. Methinks the ground is even.
Edgar. Horrible steep.

Only performance can bring out the force of “you are now within a foot /Of
th’ extreme verge” (here the lineation in the Folio should be checked for its
“white spaces”—the arrangement of lines for its suggestion of pause or
business by the first actors).
There are many questions. What is the reason for Edgar’s asides? What
will the actor do on the injunction “Go thou further off’? At the moment of
his prayer, how much will an audience empathize with Gloucester? And
will any laughter cease? On the quarto direction “He falls, ’’ what response
would the actor aim for? Put a teasing question: what would the conse¬
quence be if Gloucester had entered with a walking stick and had thrown it
over the “cliff ” before he jumped? Edgar must leap to stop it clattering to
the floor of the stage. And finally, is Edgar’s statement that “Thy life’s a mira¬
cle” true or false? I believe that the answer will turn on the degree of com¬
edy admitted in performance.

P. Waking Lear. I have used this simple and moving scene divorced from
the play in a number of drama classes, because it illustrates so well Shake¬
speare’s control of the stage and the audience. We should note especially
how he first changes all the external signals, those of costume (“We put
fresh garments on him,” i.e., the last of Lear’s three changes), music
(“Louder the music there!”—and it is proper to ask what kind of music will
best contrast with the sounds of the storm), lighting (Lear asks, “Fair
daylight?,” after the long night of the heath scenes), and vocal style (Lear’s
pyrotechnic prose has become simple, smooth, sometimes monosyllabic
verse).
118 A THEATRICAL APPROACH: KING LEAR AS PERFORMANCE AND EXPERIENCE

It is good to discuss why the King must enter “in a chair” (the focus is to
be on the act of waking, and the question everyone must ask is what the
new king will be like) and where on the platform it should be placed (the
intimacy of the relationship between father and daughter suggests that it
must be downstage close to the audience). Where should Kent and the
Doctor stand in relation to Lear in his chair? (I believe the ritual element in
the scene demands that father and daughter be isolated.) The text is ex¬
cellent for the way it prompts a delicate physical contact between Lear and
Cordelia, traced through “this kiss,” “these white flakes,” “Was this a
face ... ?,” “This thin helm,” to the point where he touches her cheek on
“Be your tears wet?” Cordelia will find that she must kneel in order to ca¬
ress and cradle Lear’s head, and trial and error will test the intended pat¬
tern of gestures that bring the two of them centerstage, kneeling to each
other symbolically. It is an easy error to interpret Cordelia’s “No, Sir, you
must not kneel” as a direction for him to return to his chair; he is kneeling
at this point, of course, and must remain so, as the source play, The True
Chronicle History of King Leir, confirms.

S. Death of Lear. One final comment on “Howl, howl, howl!” These are
Lear’s half-animal noises, to be made and heard as noises, not his order to
the court to join in his lament. The three words are most effective when
they are divided by the king’s movements—the first heard offstage by the
courtiers as they run in all directions and freezing them to the spot; the sec¬
ond given upon Lear’s entrance upstage “with Cordelia in his arms, ” so that
the crowd falls back; the third spoken to the audience after the king comes
down to us as if to offer us the sacrifice of his daughter. As in the first court
scene, all three daughters are again on stage, and again Cordelia is dis¬
tinguished from the other two—only now all three are dead. And Lear him¬
self seems to return to an earlier state of confusion in the face of the unpre¬
dictable and inexplicable processes of life.
 A Theatrical Approach:
Readers’ Theater
John B. Harcourt

The focus of my Introduction to Shakespeare course is a four-week

readers theater” unit on one of the major tragedies; every fourth semes¬
ter, we come to King Lear. This unit begins around the midpoint of the
course, after we have considered in some detail and more traditionally
three or four plays written earlier in Shakespeare’s career. If Lear is in the
offing, these early plays are likely to feature ominous fathers or father-
surrogates: Titus Andronicus, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Romeo and
Juliet, The Merchant of Venice. The students thus begin the unit knowing
something about Shakespeare and his times, the Shakespearean theater,
the shape of the Shakespearean play, the resources of language that it em¬
ploys, and the tensions within die family and the community upon which it
so frequendy centers.
Why approach King Lear as readers’ theater in an introductory Shake¬
speare course designed to give undergraduates from many different majors
an overview of Shakespeare’s dramatic production? Perhaps that last
phrase points to the answer: my emphasis, especially in this unit, is on
Shakespeare as actor-director-scriptwriter-shareholder in the leading
theatrical company of his time. As far as we can discover, he had littie in¬
terest in securing readers for his plays. It is something of a shock to
students that he did not rush to sign a contract with a publisher as soon as
he had completed a script, that he apparently had little or nothing to do
with the publication of the sixteen plays that appeared in quarto editions
during his lifetime, that even in these cases the texts supplied to the printer
were most often the “foul papers” rather than the official promptbooks,
and that neither the playwright nor members of his company bothered to
proofread the pages as they came off the press. A parallel can be drawn
with the present-day writer of television or movie scripts, most of which
will never appear in book form. Throughout the course, therefore, I em¬
phasize Shakespeare the playhouse professional, writing on demand for
the immensely successful commercial venture in which he was a partner.
Such demythologizing, while obviously far from the complete story, is a
salutary corrective to the impressions of the Bard too often derived from
high-school English classes. Coincidentally, deemphasizing the printed
page corresponds quite realistically to the situation of the students, the vast
majority of whom will never pick up an edition of Shakespeare after their
formal education is completed but many of whom may, if we do our work
well, occasionally watch Shakespeare on television or take in a perfor-

119
120 A THEATRICAL APPROACH: READERS' THEATER

mance or two at a summer festival. I have shaped my course in the hope

that what we do together in the classroom will motivate those postgradua¬
tion experiences of living Shakespearean theater and make them more
meaningful than they might otherwise be.
Shakespeare, then, must be approached on his own terms—in terms of
the patterned experiences that emerge as actors say and do things in that
ritualized event we call theater. Clearly, limitations of time and resources
preclude our mounting a full performance even of part of a Shakespearean
play. But a practical solution is to employ readers’ theater—a highly
stylized presentation before an audience by a group of readers who use
books or scripts and who do not act in any theatrical sense, although they
may turn or move about and even occasionally use a prop or two, or a hint
of costuming such as a crown. The device of having separate readers divide
the lines of a single character so as to present different aspects of that
character can be an important part of a readers’ theater presentation. One
reader, for example, speaks lines from I.i, I.ii, Il.i, and Ill.iii that establish
Edmund’s deferential-hypocritical relationship with his father (and also
with Edgar in I.ii and with Cornwall in III.v). A second reader with quite
different vocal tonalities highlights Edmund the Machiavel, while a third
shows him as lover, cynically weighing the merits of the two women who
are pursuing him. A fourth reader focuses on the new emotions Edmund
experiences in V.iii (“Some good I mean to do / Despite of mine own na¬
ture”). In another presentation, the readers may detach lines from their
specific dramatic contexts and arrange them in a sequence that points up a
pattern of repeated images, themes, or key words. The word nothing occurs
more than two dozen times in the play; reading these lines seriatim forces
the audience to consider the function of this leitmotif in the play’s larger
structure. Or a group may choose lines that refer to clothing—the actual
putting on or taking off of garments or the metaphors implied in words like
invest, divest, dismantle. Discussion can then relate the clothing images to
the overarching theme of appearance versus reality. However the readings
are organized, the crucial fact is that we move from scanning with the eyes
only, in the privacy of dormitory or library, to an aural and oral exper¬
ience-readers and audience together encountering Shakespeare as
sound. Such readers’ theater presentations can fit into any syllabus; they
can be given anywhere an audience gathers around a group of players.
To begin the unit, I designate four students, usually but not always drama
majors, to function as group leaders for the readers’ theater project. The
class is then divided into four sections of six to eight members each, select¬
ed alphabetically, without regard to gender or academic background. To
avoid excessive overlapping in the performances, I give each group a
specific aspect of the play to consider. For example, a group may be
assigned a set of closely related characters to work with or may address a
 John B. Harcourt 121

specific pattern of images. To prepare their presentations, the groups meet

separately wherever they are able to find space on a crowded campus.
At the first group meeting, the leader announces which feature of the
play that group is to focus on and assigns to each member three or four
readings from an extensive bibliography that I have provided (the list con¬
tains book-length studies of Lear as well as articles immediately relevant to
that group’s primary concern). We use the Muir Arden edition (from which
I quote) because its introduction, notes, and apparatus are especially well
adapted to our study of the play. For about two weeks, the groups pursue
their topics through reports on the assigned readings and discussion of
each member’s findings.
Then each group prepares its script, almost always a montage of episodes
or passages from throughout the play. Group members subject the script to
intense scrutiny to determine the precise sense of every word and phrase,
the correct pronunciation of unfamiliar words and names (it takes some ef¬
fort to make the point that Gloucester rhymes with roster). In addition to
the notes in the Arden Lear, basic references such as the Furness New
Variorum edition, Kittredge’s extended notes in Sixteen Plays of Shake¬
speare, the Duthie-Wilson Cambridge Shakespeare Lear, Schmidt’s
Shakespeare-Lexicon, Partridge’s Shakespeare’s Bawdy, and, of course, the
Oxford English Dictionary are consulted.
In rehearsals, special attention is given to students with no prior
dramatic experience. I require that every member of the group have ample
speaking lines and that the drama majors function more as coaches than as
stars. Happily, the very artificiality of readers’ theater permits the lines of a
given character to be distributed among several readers, irrespective of
gender.
Performances—some highly formal, some far less so—take place wher¬
ever each group sees fit: in the classroom, the chapel, the recreation rooms,
the lobbies. Performance time is stricdy limited to twenty minutes. For the
rest of the period, the members of the audience engage in dialogue with
the members of the cast, who remain onstage. Discussions are lively, and, at
the end, I attempt a brief summation and establish a link with the next pre¬
sentation, reserving the detailed critique of the performance for a meeting
with the group itself. Within a week, group members individually submit
reports that list their research and detail their specific contributions to the
group’s activities. In the space provided for suggestions, most students
state that the readers’ theater project was for them the high point of the
course—for many, the first time that Shakespeare had ever come alive.
Alumni, returning sometimes after many years, continue in that belief.
Topics for the unit vary from year to year. In Year A, the focus may be on
character. One group may address itself to Lear’s relationships with his
daughters; another, to Gloucester’s problems in discriminating between his
122 A THEATRICAL APPROACH: READERS' THEATER

sons; a third, to the affinities between Cordelia, the Fool, and Mad Tom; a
fourth, to the carefully demarcated stages in the development of Lear’s
madness.
In Year B, our interest may be directed to the basic patterns of imagery in
the play, again with a fourfold division: images of sight and blindness; those
that relate human behavior to that of birds and animals; the powerful im¬
ages of sexuality and sex nausea; and images of mutilation and torture.
Isolating these images from their contexts of plot and character and pre¬
senting them linked in an unbroken sequence wonderfully clarifies their
function in the symphonic structure of the play as poem.
In Year C, I may make Shakespeare’s dramaturgy our primary concern.
One obvious focus is the interrelation between the main plot and the sub¬
plot: a rapid oscillation between bits of Lear scenes and parallel bits of
Gloucester scenes can make essential dramatic points more effectively
than extended commentary can. Another dramaturgical device, which a
second group can investigate, is the repeated use of trial or near-trial
scenes: Lear’s trial of his daughters in I.i; Cornwall’s stocking of Kent in
Il.ii; Lear’s bitter comments on justice in Ill.ii and IV.vi; the mock trial in
III .vi; the interrogation and torture of Gloucester; the trial by combat in
V.iii. An area for a third group to examine is Shakespeare’s use of a framing
device in the construction of King Lear. Through identical blocking, the
readers can make their audience experience visually as well as aurally the
two striking scenes so widely separated in actual playhouse perfor¬
mances—a kingly father with three living daughters grouped about him in
I i and then the same father, surrounded by his three dead daughters,
in V.iii.
A fourth group may be asked to concentrate on one of Shakespeare’s
most successful (and most frequently utilized) stage effects—the visual
overlapping of successive scenes. Again and again, he arranges for the new
character or characters to be seen proceeding from the rear entrances
down the deep Globe stage, while, up front, the scene the audience has
been attending to draws to its conclusion, so that a simultaneous awareness
of something ending and something beginning is achieved. This kind of
dramatic counterpointing is easy to realize in readers’ theater by the simple
expedient of having the new characters stand or turn to face the audience
while the others are still reading their lines. As we listen to Goneril and
Regan hatching their plot against their father at the end of Li, we already
see Edmund, letter in hand, with Thou, Nature, art my goddess’ about to
form on his lips and defiance already registering in his expression. The
fused images establish the spiritual kinship between Lear s older daughters
and Gloucester’s younger son. Likewise, at the ending of I.ii, Edmund
departs with the observation All with me s meet that I can fashion fit,’’ pre¬
cisely as our attention turns to Goneril and her Machiavellian instructions
 John B. Harcourt 123

that Oswald “breed occasions” by coming “slack of former services.” And at

the conclusion of IILiv, Edgar’s “I smell the blood of a British man,” with its
echoes of the fairy-tale ogre, is heard just as one of the play’s acjtual mon¬
sters, Cornwall, looms into view for his “I will have my revenge ere I depart
his house.” Examples of this technique may easily be multiplied, and the
ensuing impression of continuous and indeed overlapping dramatic epi¬
sodes corrects the students’ habit of thinking of the play as atomized into
discrete scenes and acts.
The vast literature on King Lear can be organized by critical schools,
and, in a Year D, these discordant and sometimes mutually exclusive inter¬
pretations can be parceled out to the readers’ theater groups. A first sec¬
tion, directing its attention to the New Critical Lear-as-dramatic-poem
perspective, will probably organize its script around the image clusters,
with Robert B. Heilman’s This Great Stage: Image and Structure in King
Lear as its principal reference. Another group, exploring Freudian insights,
will turn to Norman N. Holland’s Psychoanalysis and Shakespeare and M.
D. Faber’s Design Within: Psychoanalytic Approaches to Shakespeare and
will emphasize the episodes suggesting oedipal hostility between Glouces¬
ter and his sons and a powerful incest motif in Lear’s relationship to Cor¬
delia. A third set of readers may combine existential criticism, such as Jan
Kott’s Shakespeare Our Contemporary or Thomas McFarland’s Tragic
Meanings in Shakespeare, with the Christian-versus-pagan controversy, as
developed in Roy W. Battenhouse’s Shakespearean Tragedy: Its Art and Its
Christian Premises and William Elton’s King Lear and the Gods respec¬
tively. Readers’ theater treatments of this issue may concentrate on the
episode beginning “Re-enter LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms,
with successive readings that draw on Marvin Rosenberg’s summary of the
range of interpretation in The Masks of King Lear. A final section, tackling
the feminist readings of Lear, may respond to Linda Bamber’s insight that
Lear “projects onto women what he refuses to acknowledge in himself
(14) or Marilyn French’s contention, in Shakespeare’s Division of Ex¬
perience, that Shakespeare’s understanding of character was polarized ac¬
cording to gender.
Critical approaches are not exhausted, of course, by the four just men¬
tioned. A group once demonstrated the value of source criticism by jux¬
taposing scenes from the old Leir play with corresponding segments of the
text as we know it: Shakespeare’s transformation of the carefully plotted
and skillfully motivated opening of the earlier play into the mysterious and
unpredictable I.i of his own work became clear and opened immediately
into the question of why the playwright had so studiously avoided using the
materials that lay ready to his hand. Textual criticism presents formidable
obstacles in an undergraduate course, but, next time around, I am planning
to use the readers’ theater format to test Steven Urkowitz’s challenging
124 A THEATRICAL APPROACH: READERS’ THEATER

thesis, as expounded in his Shakespeare’s Revision of King Lear, that Shake¬

speare wrote, at different times, two quite different Lears. Presenting in
performance first the quarto and then the Folio version of selected scenes
may indicate to what extent the two seventeenth-century texts represent
stages in the dramatist’s conception of his play that cannot really be co¬
alesced into the “composite” text we all know.
Thus, each semester we experience once again the paradox that, while
on one level we cannot adequately say a Shakespearean line without un¬
derstanding its meaning, it is equally true that reading it aloud may reveal
that meaning—and, of course, what we hear and see is ultimately the
meaning. Ideally, therefore, I should like to end the Lear unit with a
videotape of the entire play, presented without a single word of comment
from anyone. Those of us who presume to teach Shakespeare need to re¬
mind ourselves as well as our students that, if at last we do not find the
meaning in the words and actions of the play, we shall not find it anywhere.
A readers’ theater approach can move us a long way towards that aware¬
ness.
 An Approach through Visual Stimuli
and Student Writing
Jean Klene, CSC

Charles Lamb once commented that acting the title role of King Lear is
“impossible" (37). It sometimes seems equally impossible to teach the play.
I and countless others attempt to do so, however, and I shall share some of
my methods in this paper. I teach Lear in a one-semester survey course
that includes representative Shakespearean comedies, histories, and trage¬
dies in their chronological order, and I use slides in order to create interest,
stimulate ideas, and provoke questions about the play. Students then use
the ideas and questions (examples of which are given later in this essay) in
an exercise we call an “investigation.” The investigation requires that the
students reread the play and, while doing so, write (1) the question they
are investigating, (2) quotations from each act that answer the question (or
help shape our ideas about a topic or theme), and (3) a summary of what
they have discovered. Finally, they seem to enjoy sharing the results of
these quests during class periods.
Students must read the play in its entirety before the first class devoted
to it. To stimulate discussion I show two different kinds of slides: scenes
from productions by the Royal Shakespeare Company (Shakespeare: New
Productions)—mainly because they are available, not because they are
ideal—and famous paintings borrowed from the art department. These
slides help students focus their attention on scenes providing historical and
theatrical enrichment, even though the RSC photographer did not always
choose the scenes we might consider crucial. Viewing several productions
of King Lear, however, does give some sense of theater and theater history,
a sense most students do not have when they begin a course on Shake¬
speare’s plays.
First, we look at slides from the 1968 and 1976 productions directed by
Trevor Nunn, and discuss how the visual images enhance understanding of
the play. For example, in the opening court scene of the 1968 production,
the symmetrical placement of characters suggests perfect order in the
court: Lear sits in the middle under a golden canopy draped to the floor,
behind his daughters; Regan and Goneril sit in front of him on either side
with their respective husbands standing behind them; and Cordelia sits
directly in front of her father—clearly, his “joy.” Yet even this arbitrary
order seems destroyed when we finally discern the Fool’s pixielike head
peering out from between the skirts of Cordelia and Regan. The pageantry
of this first scene prompts us to discuss the way the sumptuous clothing
suggests the rich quality of courtly life. “Robes and furred gowns do seem
to “hide all.” When I ask about the costume changes to come, students

125
126 AN APPROACH THROUGH VISUAL STIMULI AND STUDENT WRITING

mention Lear’s disheveled dress on the heath, and someone inevitably will
remember lines like “Come, unbutton here” or “Off, off, you lendings,” es¬
pecially when I ask about the relation between clothing and the question of
kingship. After discussing the significance of clothing in the play, the
students realize that the subject will make a fruitful topic for further
study.
The last slide of the 1976 production, in which a tattered Lear kneels,
holding the dead Cordelia in his arms, illuminates the contrast between the
first and the last scenes of the play; indeed, I flip back to the first slide in
order to underline the contrast of not only clothing but also posture, atmos¬
phere, and attitudes.
I also use slides of works by Renaissance artists such as Pieter Brueghel
(c. 1525-59). These paintings raise some of the same questions that Shake¬
speare’s plays do. Brueghel’s Blind Leading the Blind, for example, illus¬
trates the well-known biblical warning and helps students visualize
Gloucester’s plight; at the same time, it underscores chief themes of the
play: sight or perception and the vulnerability of “poor unaccommodated
man” under flawed political leadership. The same painter’s Justicia raises
problems about the methods of interpreting and administering justice, for
though the lady Justicia is blindfolded for impartiality, she ignores totally
the abuse of human beings suffering from the execution of the law. Art
historians—like Shakespeareans—disagree about particular points of inter¬
pretation but generally agree that Brueghel asks hard questions about
justice.
By the time we have looked at a number of slides and talked about
various issues, students have an idea of what questions they can use on
rereading King Lear- and they proceed to write their investigations, due at
the beginning of the third class. They know that the work requires three el¬
ements: a question, quotations with occasional critical comments, and a
conclusion. They ask questions like the following: How does Shakespeare
integrate sight and blindness with major themes? How does he charac¬
terize Cordelia (or someone else)? How does he raise questions about
human nature? about evil? about attitudes toward fate, fortune, and des¬
tiny? about parent-child relationships? I stress that the aim of this assign¬
ment is not to write polished paragraphs, and I urge students to abbreviate
their critical comments (as well as the names of characters and type of
speech) wherever possible, as illustrated in the following examples. The
first is in a study of the characterization of Edmund, the second one by a
student writing on the question of justice.

Edm. in sol. (I.ii. 127-29) “should have been that lam...”

Edm. mocks his father’s beliefs.
 Jean Klene, CSC 127

Glo. to O. Man (IV.i.36) “As flies to wanton boys ...”

Blames injustice on gods; ignores humans’ guilt.

Students must list several quotations related to their chosen questions from
each act, and, where none occur, they need to speculate on the reason for
this lack. An investigation involving the dramatization of Cordelia, for ex¬
ample, would have to state that she does not appear in acts II and III, hav¬
ing been banished by her father and gone to France. I also ask that students
make occasional comments on the language: striking images, the way a
“jingle-jangle” couplet may undercut what is being said, or the signal
Shakespeare gives us in a switch from blank verse to prose. By a variety of
means, then, analytical skills are sharpened.
Students conclude with a paragraph summarizing what they have
learned. Occasionally a question (usually one not raised in the opening
class) cannot be answered by the text, or a topic originally considered
meaningful proves insignificant. I urge students, however, not to start over
again (unless we are writing a finished paper) but only to write an honest
conclusion. The purpose of the exercise may be fulfilled sufficiendy
without the kind of proof one needs for a paper. (When we do write a
paper on Lear, however, an investigation becomes the best possible begin¬
ning; I return the exercise in time for the paper to be written.) Conclusions
vary widely, but at least each student has come to an independent decision
about an important facet of the play. A business major, for example, who
began with questions of value (How can we judge character? What is the
best measure of a person’s true worth? riches? words? or deeds?) con¬
cluded her work as follows:

The play begins with Lear’s misjudgment of his daughters; he at¬

tempts to measure their love by the words they speak. Throughout
the play, there are many references to worth: money, jewels, precious
metals, and titles are some of the measures of value. Contrasts of rich
with poor, noble with base, and fortune with misfortune illustrate
kinds of evaluation. Tragedy also strips away noble facades and ex¬
poses base characters.

Another student, dealing with sight and blindness, wrote this con¬
clusion:

Light and darkness and sight and blindness represent falseness and
truth in Lear. Light, such as the sun, moonbeams, stars, etc., often
symbolizes a reliance on the physical world to provide obvious nonin-
terpretive truth (which it never does). At other times, sight in
general, and eyes in particular, have positive connotations, represent-
 128 AN APPROACH THROUGH VISUAL STIMULI AND STUDENT WRITING

ing the illumination of truth found in the darkness of despair. There

are two types of sight as well as of blindness: physical and spiritual.
Each is capable of creating its inverse.

One virtue of this method is that students come to class prepared—and

sometimes eager—to argue a point of view. During the class period, all par¬
ticipate, and they learn a good deal from one another rather than from my
lecturing (although I still guide the discussion by questions or comments).
They argue coherently about whether Lear learns anything and, if so, what;
whether Edmund repents; and why Edgar acts as he does toward his
father. According to other teachers, some students continue arguing as
they walk down the hall: their involvement, then, is evident. Students also
recommend the assignment (even though some complain about the time
necessary to write one) because they claim that they understand the play
and, consequently, enjoy the classes more than they would with straight
lecture or unstructured discussion. They also feel confident about writing a
paper on the play during the second week of our study.
The investigations also tell me much more about the thinking of in¬
dividuals than I could learn in a class period. Sometimes, for example, I see
that they do not understand important lines like Lear’s “O reason not the
need! Our basest beggars / Are in the poorest thing superfluous” when
they write comments such as “Is man a beast if he cannot prove himself
otherwise?” or “Contrasts rich with poor.” We then explore such a speech
in the next class. Having encouraged students also to write-in addition to
critical comments—whatever they wish to write in response to the text, I
respond to their jottings when appropriate. Sometimes, for example, they
ask, “Is this too farfetched?” or “Is this what the word means?” Besides
answering these kinds of questions, I often raise a few others, such as the
following: “But do you believe him?” or “Loyal, yes, but wise?” or “But what
does the Fool say about this?” or “Could this be satiric?” Usually their notes
are predictable but at other times they seem to learn as they write: one, for
example, wrote, Isn t it ironic that Lear describes homeless wretches in
terms of dwelling in places: ‘houseless,’ ‘sides,’ ‘window’d’? Oh, but now
Lear has no home either.” Another, responding to Cordelia’s prayer in
IV.vii, wrote (albeit in a mixed metaphor), “Give Dad back whatever he had
so that his mind/body can be in harmony again. But then, gods didn’t take
away his harmony. He punctured it with his own vain needle.” Oc¬
casionally a student also recalls parallels from other plays. One, for exam¬
ple, commented that when Edmund criticizes “the excellent foppery of
the world,” we recall Iago’s “Virtue, a fig! ’Tis in ourselves that we are thus
or thus (Othello I.iii.319). Before they reduce all independence to villainy,
however, I point out an enigmatically similar kind of statement from a
heroine such as Helena of All’s Well: “Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, /
 Jean Klene, CSC 129

Which we ascribe to heaven” (I.i.208-09). One semester this quotation

sparked a discussion of existentialism from students who had just explored
it in another class. The idea of self-reliance never fails to interest them.
Certain problems do arise in using this method. The major one concerns
the time required to do the work. I insist that students find only a few
quotations from each act, but the overreachers consistently spend hours
exploring and writing about the issues and often produce ten-page studies.
I urge them not to attempt completion and emphasize that we share
results. Nevertheless, the overreachers almost always exceed the assign¬
ment. Grading is not an issue because I write only “Satisfactory” (or, if it is
incomplete, “Unsatisfactory”) on the average study. If the work seems
minimal or problematic, however, I write “Satisfactory if it is both
thorough and perceptive, a “Satisfactory + .” I collect them at the end of
the semester, mainly to keep them out of circulation. But I also like to
glance at the kind of consistent work a student has done when I am giving
the final grade for the course. If students ask for their investigations after
the course, however, I do return them.
Although the class discussions constitute an immediate reward of this
method, other benefits also appear as students develop into better readers,
writers, and speakers. A few even produce additional creative pieces, such
as poems (like the cobra-shaped one written by a Cleopatra hater who in¬
vestigated phallic imagery in Antony and Cleopatra), simulated newspaper
articles, and even whole plays. Although I have more misgivings about the
teaching of King Lear than I do about any other play, the thoughtful efforts
of many students keep me experimenting with these and other methods.
After exploring the play together, we have at least achieved a greater sense
of our dependence on one another.
 King Lear in a Course on Shakespeare and Film
Hugh M. Richmond

King Lear provides an effective climax for a course on Shakespeare and

film, since there are four substantial productions readily available: those of
Peter Brook, Grigori Kozintsev, Jonathan Miller (BBC Shakespeare series),
and Michael Elliott (with Laurence Olivier). Television versions such as
Miller s and Elliott s can now be projected inexpensively on large video¬
screens, satisfactory for big audiences. The course Shakespeare and Film in
the English Department at the University of California at Berkeley enrolls
about two hundred undergraduates from all levels, of whom one-third are
non-English majors. This size helps to justify the costs of film rental and pro¬
jection, but a similar if more modest program stressing the use of perfor¬
mance (it uses more televised versions, such as those of the BBC series and
those locally produced in the Shakespeare Program) has proved successful
and economical in a class of twenty-five students.
The larger course at Berkeley evolved from a conventional lecture series
covering twelve of Shakespeare’s major plays. To heighten awareness of
the text as script and to enrich and diversify the course format, the instruc¬
tor, colleagues, and students began to give readings, with extremely posi¬
tive results in student interest, involvement, and understanding, reflected
in improved interpretive skill and more vigorous essay writing. Typical
readings or performances included such scenes from Lear as the love test,
Edmund’s “Thou, Nature, art my goddess,” and the beach scene between
Gloucester and Lear. With cooperation from our campus Educational
Television Office, these scenes were videotaped for closer analysis; some
were even shot on location, such as the storm scenes of Lear, which were
videotaped in a storm-ravaged park near the campus. The use of excerpts
soon expanded to performances of modest playlets, such as Edgar and
Edmund, an adaptation by students from Lears subplot. After such a
variety of performances, student writing by both participants and ob¬
servers, which remains the primary concern of the course, reflected a
heightened textual awareness that is at least as precise and sophisticated as
any New Critic could wish. This encouraged further development of per¬
formance approaches, including the use of slides illustrating the structure
of the original Elizabethan theaters and of reconstructions such as that at
Ashland, as well as of historical and modern productions. Now full-length
productions, both live and televised, derive from the course in a year-
round Shakespeare Program—though Lear has so far proved too challeng¬
ing to attempt.

130
 Hugh M. Richmond 131

In view of the difficulty of synchronizing courses with predictable pro¬

fessional Shakespeare productions on local stages, we decided to lease
several sixteen-millimeter prints of major Shakespeare films, of which
twelve are now available to University of California campuses, with a
similar number of videotapes. These are shown to the class in addition to
the regularly scheduled sessions, and this series is supplemented by coor¬
dinated Shakespeare film showings at the campus Pacific Film Archive and
at local cinemas. It is thus possible to ensure repeat showings, often in dif¬
ferent formats (35 mm.), or to show different versions of the same play. We
also avoid the cost of repeated showings by increasing the availability of
videocassette versions of such films as Zeffirelli’s Taming of the Shrew for
individual student review at campus media centers.
The Berkeley course is not specialized in approach or recruitment. It
merely requires students to have studied two Shakespeare plays before ad¬
mission and to have some interest in such filmmaking techniques as camera
work and editing. These prerequisites are met by most students in the
humanities, and indeed by most Berkeley students: the course recruits
many students for the English major. The course begins widi a discussion
of various comedies and histories, plays that permit the illustration of
Renaissance culture, English history, and the nature of Elizabethan
theaters. A good example is Olivier’s Henry V. By the time students reach
Lear they are well attuned to Shakespeare’s language, to Elizabethan stage
conventions, and to the counterpoint of literary values with the aesthetics
of performance, whether on the modern or Elizabethan stage or for film
and television. Such multidimensional awareness of the text is a major gain
over traditional approaches, but it demonstrably also enhances the un¬
derstanding, involvement, and enjoyment generated by even an adequate
performance—with consequent improvement in recall of detail. The use of
multiple versions ensures that none appears definitive, and the obvious dis¬
crepancies with the printed text foster concern to recognize the su¬
periority of the latter to any given reading.
In the film class, students are required to complete their reading of the
text before the first lecture, on a Tuesday afternoon of a week we may call
week A. The lecture covers classic literary interpretations, beginning with
Charles Lamb’s notorious attack, in his essay “On the Tragedies of Shak-
speare,” on the staging of Shakespeare in general and Lear in particular.
Lamb’s Romantic revulsion from the constraints of staging is balanced
against Wilson Knight’s insistence, in “King Lear and the Comedy of the
Grotesque,” from The Wheel of Fire, on the functional nature of Lear’s
grotesqueness and almost comic humiliation. This leads naturally to a
scrutiny of Jan Kott’s absurdist reading of the play as a precursor of
Beckett’s in Shakespeare Our Contemporary. Such pessimistic readings are
132 KING LEAR IN A COURSE ON SHAKESPEARE AND FILM

linked to W. R. Elton’s skeptical interpretation in King Lear and the Gods.

The alternative, more balanced judgments of A. C. Bradley in Shake¬
spearean Tragedy and Maynard Mack in King Lear in Our Time offset these
views. Thus the lecture outlines the broad range of current interpretations
and evaluations as a prelude to seeing performances illustrating them. It is
followed by a discussion period, principally consisting of questions and
answers. Student responses and views serve to clarify issues compressed in
the lecture presentation.
The class then adjourns to a nearby auditorium where Brook’s King Lear
is projected. After the lecture’s careful exploration of negative readings of
the play, students readily perceive Brook’s relentless distortion of the text,
starting from the omission of the comic opening dialogue between Kent
and Gloucester (an omission intended to heighten the interest of Lear’s
ambiguous first word in the film: “Know”). The cutting of much of the
play’s poetry and humor is painfully apparent, as is the extreme suppres¬
sion of the subtler and more positive aspects of the characterization. Des¬
pite an iconographic identification of Edgar with a thorn-crowned, mar¬
tyred Christ in the storm scenes, Edgar’s increasingly effective role in the
play’s later scenes is deliberately edited out. Brook shows him isolated on
the beach, pushed around contemptuously by Kent at the very end. The
passages that display his redemptive skills with his father and brother are
minimized or cut (just as in the 1982 production at Stratford-upon-Avon,
which followed the film’s reading).
Nevertheless, the effect of this film on students is powerful. Its discon¬
tinuous, hectic, harsh, and violent texture (reflecting its debts to Antonin
Artaud’s idea of the Theater of Cruelty) communicates the play to them in
modern cinematic terms that make its worldview seem intensely contem¬
porary and intelligible. The film uses the full range of visual conventions
and devices to which two decades of film and television viewing have sen¬
sitized them. Having previously seen such more traditionally picturesque
color films as Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet and Olivier’s Henry V, they find
that Brook’s violent, wintry, jarring realism in grainy black and white con¬
vinces them overwhelmingly of Shakespeare’s tragic intensity and unsen¬
timental insight. Hardly anyone remains indifferent or contemptuous,
though some are shocked.
Brook’s deliberately radical challenge to audience expectations about a
classic play provides a useful starting point from which to explore more
traditional interpretations. These readings in turn lead naturally to the il¬
lustration of a more positive view of the play reflected in Kozintsev’s film,
which I show after class on Tuesday of week B, having lectured on conflict¬
ing interpretations both on Thursday of week A (mostly about Brook) and
on Tuesday of week B (mostly about Kozintsev). Indeed, before my
Thursday lecture in week A, I meet students for informal discussion of
 Hugh M. Richmond 133

Brook s film at what is usually a very crowded coffee hour. In my lecture

that day, I begin with Kozintsev’s review of Brook’s interpretation, leading
to his own treatment of the text, as outlined in his book on the making of his
own film: King Lear: The Space of Tragedy. This excellent survey of both
stage and film productions of Lear provides a contemporary complement
to Marvin Rosenberg’s stage history in The Masks of King Lear. I also draw
on the filmmaking data in Roger Manvell’s Shakespeare and the Film,
which has useful details regarding Brook’s treatment of the script, and on
the dexterous film criticism in Jack Jorgens’s Shakespeare on Film.
Jorgens’s book provides the basis for a broader lecture on Thursday of
week B (following the Tuesday showing of Kozintsev’s version) on perfor¬
mance as a critical tool for interpretation of the play. Jorgens’s perceptive
juxtapositions of film and text have rightly been hailed as the vindication of
film studies’ power to generate authentic mainline Shakespeare criticism.
In particular he demonstrates how contrasting yet complementary the
Kozintsev version is to Brook’s. Despite its icy Danish landscape, the Brook
film is often claustrophobic, exploiting grotesque close-ups in which the
framing cuts across conventional human perspectives, reducing Lear’s
face, for example, to bulbous, apelike inhumanity as he curses Goneril and
Regan. By contrast, Kozintsev sees a smaller Lear from a distance, in broad
spatial terms appropriate to historical perspectives of Russian Marxism.
This vast visual scale offsets the limitations of the oversolemn Russian
script. The landscapes shown are sweeping and un-English, and the excep¬
tional broad-screen format (70 mm.) intensifies this superhuman vision.
The camera favors long rising or panning craneshots that afford exhilarat¬
ing open views, often revealing an individual’s place in the environment,
and surveying the whole of society, as in the opening shots. Later, Lear and
Cordelia are swept along in a flowing river of refugees that runs alongside a
broad natural stream—readily interpreted as the impersonal tide of nature
and time. This broad perspective gives depth and richness to Kozintsev’s
view of the play. His film favors positive factors as much as Brook has
minimized them: the Fool is not killed; Gloucester’s grotesque fall at Dover
is cut; and Edgar’s evolution as a hero of the people gives him that com¬
manding role at the end of the film that is implied by Shakespeare’s
deliberate anachronism in inserting the name of this Anglo-Saxon hero, the
first high king of England, into the play’s pre-Roman setting.
The juxtaposition of these two films opens up for students the extreme
range of meanings and options compressed within Shakespeare’s text.
Most perceive that neither film is “wrong”: each vividly illustrates one
reading, or element, of the play. However, this perception provides only
the starting point for further discussion of the text, including questions of
editing and cutting it for performance; scholars such as Steven Urkowitz
remind us that in Shakespeare’s day such adjustments were already occur-
 134 KING LEAR IN A COURSE ON SHAKESPEARE AND FILM

ring, perhaps with Shakespeare’s own participation (Shakespeare’s Revi¬

sion). The whole question of use and adaptation of sources extends from
Bullough’s account of Shakespeare’s use of them in adjusting narrative plot
and characterization to the stage, through the happy ending of Nahum
Tate’s Lear, which Norman Rabkin finds so illuminating in Shakespeare and
the Problem of Meaning, to the issue of transposing the text to a film script,
which needs far less of its kinetic imagery and descriptions of storms and
landscapes, as we see in Manvell’s account of how Ted Hughes tried to
revise Lear for Brook. More ominously, the miniaturization of the play for
television may reduce it to static, close-in shots that eliminate most of the
play’s physical sweep and rhetorical vigor, as Urkowitz plausibly asserts in
his critical review of the BBC production (“King Lear without Tears”).
Perhaps only Olivier’s virtuosity permits Lear to transcend the limitations
of the television format; certainly we empathize more with Michael Hor¬
dern as the pathetic father Baptista, in Zeffirelli’s Taming of the Shrew, than
as Lear.
By comparing Shakespeare’s text with its sources and with such modern
adaptations, we perceive the richness of the play, which fosters critical
theories and judgments that only performance allows us to test on our
pulses. For example, it is one thing to study the role of the Fool in the light
of Enid Welsford’s Fool, but quite another, and no less illuminating, to com¬
pare Brook’s wryly skeptical philosopher-wit with Kozintsev’s picturesque
primitive, with his plaintive music, too charming to kill off. And both of
these should be contrasted in turn to the stage effects of, say, Adrian
Noble’s professional music-hall clown (in the tradition of Grock, Chaplin,
and Keaton) who ends up stabbed to death by the unwitting Lear in the
1982 production by the Royal Shakespeare Company. In all these versions,
Lear achieves a unique blend of compulsive concern for justice with a
drastic demonstration of the vicissitudes of human experience—a blend
that leads to unpredictable developments of human potential for both good
and evil. This radicalism fits it for even the most provocative modes of rein¬
terpretation in our own time, without loss of its intrinsic character as an an¬
tiestablishment play. Its grotesqueries, brutality, sardonic humor, and wry
survey of human psychology and institutions show how far Shakespeare
shares, anticipates, and perhaps even preconditions our modern awareness
in deeper and wiser ways than even Kott perceives or Artaud would
tolerate.
The exploration of the costly restructuring of a play for film also clarifies
student awareness of the original motives of Shakespeare’s script in terms
of audience response. Even a film projection provides group responses of¬
fering a fresh context for evaluating such episodes as the blinding of
Gloucester or the killing of Edmund, as well as the pathos of Cordelia’s
death. The convulsive, even traumatic responses generated by these
 Hugh M. Richmond 135

passages prove that performance affords fresh critical material not avail¬
able to the reader. More charmingly, the lyric beauty of Kozintsev’s images
of Lear’s “flower child” phase reminds us of the play’s more positive and
delightful aspects: as Lear crouches among the wild flowers, his white hair
blends into the bleached grass in a Wordsworthian synthesis with the
landscape surely true to Shakespeare’s awareness (and Lear’s) of heroic
rediscovery of humanity’s deep interdependence with nature. Even
Brook’s crueller, overexposed images in the beach scene still generate a
philosophic sense of a Shelleyan “white radiance of eternity.” These
calmer long shots clarify and transcend the selfish, dogmatic narrowness of
Lear’s earlier, theatrical sense of justice, as in the trial scene (Ill.vi), when
he is hallucinating and momentarily mad in truth. All versions necessarily
demonstrate the remarkable potentiality for human growth validated by
the aged Lear’s discovery of new values.
The difficulties of teaching Lear through film usually prove fewer than
one anticipates. Film prints can be readily rented and projected at mod¬
erate cost. The techniques of film analysis are well displayed in the paper¬
back editions of Manvell and Jorgens, in Charles Eckert’s anthology Focus
on Shakespearean Films, and in Andrew McLean’s filmographies in Shake¬
speare: Annotated Bibliographies and Media Guide. The frequently assert¬
ed defects of Shakespearean films are not a negative factor pedagogi-
cally—my students regularly say that they learn almost as much from the
defects of a specific performance as from its virtues. The reconciliation of
any performed version of Lear to one’s own interpretation becomes a nor¬
mal part of critical experience, though it is wise not to force students to
become too technical. Even students who prefer to write traditional criti¬
cal studies seem to gain in empathy and insight when exposed to several
performances. My surveys of postgraduates show that the films, instead of
diminishing interest in other versions of the text, encourage appreciation
of further productions of Shakespeare—surely every teacher’s goal.
 “Is This the Promis’d End?’’
Teaching the Play’s Conclusion
David L. Kranz

When King Lear enters with the dead Cordelia in his arms near the end of
the play (V.iii.256 in the Muir edition), three surviving characters com¬
ment in shocked, quizzical, and emotionally charged phrases on what they
and the theater audience see:

Kent. Is this the promis’d end?

Edgar. Or image of that horror?
Albany. Fall and cease. (262-63)

The loyal Kent asks whether he is witnessing the Apocalypse, Edgar

wonders if he sees but a representation of that catastrophic end of the
world, and Albany, who moments earlier prayed that the gods defend Cor¬
delia from harm, now resignedly wishes that all structures fall and all life
cease. In the shared responses of these on-stage commentators at least
three points are clear: (1) they are not sure of what Lear’s minidrama rep¬
resents and thus ask questions of it; (2) they are shocked by the severity of
what they see and deeply moved by the suffering Lear endures; and (3)
they resort to cosmological religious interpretation in order to make sense
of Lear’s plight but are aware that what they see may be a fiction, an
“image” of cosmic catastrophe.
If Shakespeare intended these points as metadramatic guides for the
audience, twentieth-century Shakespearean scholars and critics have, in
interpreting the end of King Lear, reflected them in various ways. Uncer¬
tainty about precisely what the last seventy or so lines of the play mean has,
in fact, led to a long-standing critical debate. On the one hand, numerous
scholars since A. C. Bradley have suggested that, however painful the suf¬
fering of Lear, the end of the play contains some kind of affirmation, most
often one related to Christian moral or cosmological schemes. For these in¬
terpreters, Lear’s last moments are sources of optimism, or at least sugges¬
tive of heavenly silver linings. On the other hand, several critics treat King
Lear, partly on account of its ending, as Shakespeare’s most pessimistic
statement of the human condition. These interpreters dwell on the shock¬
ing severity of the tragedy s end and scorn the optimists’ resort to religious
myth as a mere convenient fictional anesthetic that comfortably blinds its
advocates to the nihilistic truth Shakespeare intended to dramatize. A third
group of Shakespeareans, moreover, has recently argued that Shakespeare
intended the ending and the entire play to be ambiguous and unresolved,
however dark in action or light in suggestion.

136
 David L. Kranz 137

Because the bitter end of the tragedy is so richly problematical and has
inspired such a heated critical debate, I try to create a pedagogical event
around it—namely, a class debate. Critical concentration on the end of the
play in this form seems to provide students with a degree of the emotional
urgency that they miss by not experiencing King Lear in a theater. But I
use a class debate not simply to take advantage of a critical curiosity in
order to engage student minds; student disputation is not a gimmick
merely tacked on to a conventional examination of the drama. Rather, in
juxtaposing optimistic, perhaps redemptive views of the ending with
pessimistic, perhaps nihilistic perspectives, the debate is wholly consistent
with the dialectical design of King Lear.
One reading of this dialectical design is John Danby’s Shakespeare’s
Doctrine of Nature. The dialectic throughout the play, at times overt and at
times implied, involves a worldview that asserts the existence of divine jus¬
tice and order and a worldview that does not assume such justice and
order. From the very beginning, Lear’s cursing banishment of Cordelia
(Li. 107-19) and his later disparaging comments about her (208-12) reveal
his assumption that he acts in accordance with the “operation of the orbs /
From whom we do exist and cease to be,” with some design in nature that
functions in a just manner. Gloucester too believes in this ordered uni¬
verse, as his remarks on global disruption make clear (I.ii. 100-11), but Ed¬
mund’s sarcastic remarks on his father’s astrological superstition (115-30),
as well as his earlier obeisance to a nature of material-oriented “lusty
stealth” (11), disclose quite different assumptions about the world. For Ed¬
mund, belief in an order within nature is merely a convenient and pleasant
fiction, an insubstantial thing, a “nothing.” This continuing dichotomy of
worldviews persists to its final appearance in the play: the demise of evil in
the form of Edmund and the sisters appears consistent with a providential
moral order in nature, but the death of good in the form of Cordelia does
not. For some critics, the latter’s hanging mocks all belief in an invisible
moral order and thus, in Kent’s words, “All’s cheerless, dark, and deadly”
(V.iii.289). Others take comfort in the just destruction of the evil trio and,
like Lear, try to see something meaningful in the corpse of Cordelia. These
critics see, optimistically, life beyond death in Lear’s “Look there, look
there” (V.iii.310); the first group of critics, however, pessimistically sees
the mere delusion of a madman. The two critical camps thereby mirror the
dialectic within the play that concerns skepticism about or faith in an invis¬
ible moral order.
The play’s dialectic and the debate among critics are readily transferred
to a classroom debate. Both the debate format and the plentiful, highly
debatable criticism enable me to introduce students to Shakespearean
scholarship in a way that forestalls simple, slavish adoption of the insights
of secondary sources. And having students debate the meaning of the end
138 TEACHING THE PLAY’S CONCLUSION

of King Lear gives me a good index of how effectively I have taught the
play. The mechanics of the student debate are quite simple. I ask eight
volunteers to argue about the meaning of the play from V.iii.256 to the end.
Is the ending optimistic, perhaps redemptive, or pessimistic, perhaps
nihilistic? The debaters divide into two groups, each with two presenters
and two rebutters, and are given several days to prepare. I demand that
each presentation (about 15 minutes) consist of an exegesis of the play’s
end (including some close analyses of the lines), an argument about the
rest of the play that supports the exegesis, some evidence that attempts to
disprove the opposing view of the end, and some reference to published
critical research, most of which I have placed on reserve in the library.
Each rebuttal (also 15 minutes in duration) must refer specifically to
arguments presented by the other side, and anticipation of those argu¬
ments is encouraged. Students not debating are required to be judges. I ask
them to take notes during the debate and to have something to say about it
or about their sense of the ending in a free discussion period (the last 20-
30 minutes of the class) after the debate. The judges must also turn in writ¬
ten reports several days later, arguing for the side they determine to have
won and outlining their own views of the end of King Lear. Having set up
the event, I advise the debaters, referee the debate, clarify points that are
badly articulated, moderate the free discussion period, report the judges’
decision in a later class, and offer my own interpretation.
Though no two debates are the same, I can offer a sample summary of
the main points student debaters have made. In doing so, moreover, I shall
endeavor to name secondary critical sources that amplify the arguments
and evidence summarized.
In explicating the conclusion, the pessimistic side stresses the pain and
desolation of what can be seen and verified, drawing nihilistic implications
from the evidence. They point out that Cordelia, the play’s most clearly
ideal figure, is as dead as her sisters: Lear asserts her death with certainty
three times (258-60, 269, and 304-07), and others say nothing to the con¬
trary. If so, she cannot ‘‘redeem’’ either Lear’s sorrows or the general curse
under which the world of Lear labors. Her death, moreover, demonstrates
the lack of a hidden moral order in nature and thus the hopelessness of
faith in invisible “nothings.” Additionally, Lear’s triple attempt to find life
in his daughter’s corpse is the result of mere deluded hope. As with
Gloucester at the nonexistent cliff, despair is only prevented by delusion,
this time self-induced. Finally, the on-stage commentators, men whose
moral and psychological health is usually unquestioned, see only desolation
(e.g., the quotations above of Kent, Albany, and Edgar), note Lear’s
deluded perspective (292-93), or make hopeful statements that are im¬
mediately undercut by all-too-visible truths. Albany, for example, says,
“The Gods defend her!” (254) just before Lear’s entrance with Cordelia in
 David L. Kranz 139

his arms, and then says, “All friends shall taste / The wages of their virtue,
and all foes / The cup of their deservings” (301-03), before exclaiming “O!
see, see!” as he watches Lear’s pitiful questioning of the injustice of Cor¬
delia’s death. Provocative readings along these lines can be found in J.
Stampfer, “The Catharsis of King Lear -, Nicholas Brooke, “The Ending of
King Lear”; John D. Rosenberg, “King Lear and His Comforters”; and John
Shaw, “King Lear: The Final Lines.”
The optimistic, sometimes redemptive point of view usually acknowl¬
edges the desolation at the end of the play but emphasizes, taking advan¬
tage of several ambiguities, lines that intimate suprarational possibilities.
Lear’s final words, “Look on her, look, her lips, / Look there, look there!”
(309-10), may suggest, by their repetition and vagueness, an insight
beyond the worldly “see, see” of Albany and others, perhaps a vision of
Cordelia alive in heaven. This possibility is enhanced by other language in
the scene, most notably the spiritual intimations of a new heaven and earth
in talk of the Apocalypse, which ends, in Revelation at least, with the
revealed New Jeru salem. Kent’s oblique “I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;
/ My master calls me, I must not say no” (320-21) may also be relevant
here, since the journey may be to follow Lear to heaven. Interpretations in
this vein may be found in Harold Goddard’s Meaning of Shakespeare, Paul
N. Siegel’s Shakespearean Tragedy and the Elizabethan Compromise, and
Roy W. Battenhouse’s Shakespearean Tragedy: Its Art and Its Christian
Premises. Furthermore, the sense of order and progression symbolized in
the fact that Lear is king again at his death and is survived by a good ruler
(whether Edgar in the First Folio version or Albany in the quarto version)
may be reinforcing. Finally, whatever Lear’s visionary capabilities, his ob¬
vious love for the ideal “nothing” that Cordelia may now purely represent
makes clear his progress from the self-loving Lear at the beginning of the
play. Statements of this kind, unsupported (I must acknowledge) by much
explication, may be found in G. Wilson Knight’s Wheel of Fire, Harold S.
Wilson’s On the Design of Shakespearian Tragedy, and L. C. Knights’s Some
Shakespearean Themes.
Students arguing for Lear’s redemption often use the idea of positive
progression mentioned above in arguments showing how the whole of the
play supports an optimistic reading of the ending. Some, highlighting the
conventional and symbolic nature of the characters, demonstrate that, as
the evil figures get their just deserts, the good at the end must, by force of
consistent design, be rewarded. Irving Ribner in Patterns in Shakespearian
Tragedy and H. S. Wilson, among others, dwell on this structural argument,
adding that Lear endures a purgatorial experience that must be given an
appropriately elevated ending. Other optimists claim, perhaps following
Paul Jorgensen’s Lear’s Self-Discovery, that the king learns humility
through his ordeal and that this shows his progress from the blind pride
 140 TEACHING THE PLAY’S CONCLUSION

with which he began. Another progressive argument may be found in

Hugh L. Hennedy’s “King Lear: Recognizing the Ending”; Hennedy
claims that act V is a series of missed, then accomplished recognitions and
thus that Lear’s cryptic “look there, ” part of the progress of recognitions,
represents his knowledge that Cordelia lives in death. But the pessimists
often counter with the view, outlined in J. K. Walton’s “Lear’s Last
Speech,” that Lear learns only the cruel realities of worldly injustice and
the fact of death. The argument for a pattern of progress, furthermore, is
countered by finding less positive schemes in the experience of the play.
King Lear in its entire process, as opposed to the play selectively edited,
exhibits a pattern in which hopeful moral and providential patterns are
continually undercut and crushed. Brooke, as well as Stephen Booth in “On
the Greatness of King Lear” and its later expansion in his book on Lear and
Macbeth, may be consulted here.
Elements outside the play also impinge on the debate. The pessimists
show that Shakespeare clearly excluded Christian elements explicit in his
sources, but this fact could be countered, as Thomas P. Roche does in
“‘Nothing Almost Sees Miracles’: Tragic Knowledge in King Lear,” with
the view that the play is a Christian exposure of the futility of paganism. In
general, the optimists claim that Shakespeare and his audience, being
Christian, would clearly see the pagan tragedy and the hidden Christian in¬
sights more easily than we do. But the pessimistic side may contend, in
rebuttal, that the Renaissance included men who were quite positively dis¬
posed toward purely pagan ideas and attitudes. William R. Elton in King
Lear and the Gods could be cited in support.
After the debate subsides (and much more raging occurs than my sample
can indicate) and after the judges have spoken in discussion and written
their verdicts, I give the class my views. Following critics such as John
Rosenberg, S. L. Goldberg in An Essay on King Lear, and Derek Peat in
And that s true too’: King Lear and the Tension of Uncertainty,” I believe
that the play’s ending is ultimately ambiguous, and purposely so. Yet some
things are clear: Cordelia is dead, and the world of Lear is bleak and unjust,
at least in human terms. But if the universe of King Lear is clearly indis¬
criminate and dark, the tragedy is not, by virtue of its ultimate ambiguity,
empty of redeeming possibilities. Indeed, as Lear, recognizing his daugh¬
ter s death, must search for her life, so the audience, faced with the
promis d end, cannot but look for something more, even if it might be il¬
lusory. Geoffrey Bush in Shakespeare and the Natural Condition asserts that
King Lear is a play of belief and that the audience sustains that airy “noth¬
ing despite the sense that faith may be a pretense. In my opinion, the
human capacity foi belief is rarefied to its essence in King Lear precisely
because the play leaves so few grounds for simple visual, experiential, and
rational means from which to infer a metaphysical view. Rene Fortin in
 David L. Kranz 141

Hermeneutical Circularity and Christian Interpretations of King Lear”

argues this point in Christian terms, showing that the essence of Chris¬
tianity, which is mystery and hope (not justice and reward), is consistent
with the play’s inexorable pessimism. Moreover, along with Phyllis Rackin
in Delusion as Resolution in King Lear,” I find Lear’s struggle for insight
at the end to be a heroical, creative act in the face of nihilism. Lear’s mad
hope, as Maynard Mack in King Lear in Our Time points out, is a delusory
godsend, an illusion that is good. Finally, the "nothing” of belief is support¬
ed somewhat more palpably, but still ambiguously, by the tragedy’s full¬
ness of feeling. At the end of King Lear, both the onstage and the theater
audience see feelingly,” thereby reinforcing the hope that Lear sees
something when we all “look there.” Thus, the debate is resolved for me in
the paradoxical realization that the pessimism of things seen is at one with
the optimism of “nothings” believed in.
EPILOGUE

A Course Devoted Exclusively to King Lear

J. W. Robinson

Students of average ability often appear mystified by much of Shake¬

speare’s language. They will respond to the psychology and morality in (for
example) King Lear; but when they have only a general (and sometimes
erroneous) sense of what is being said, their responses can be halfhearted,
even if they are enthusiastic about the play in general and interested in the
culture of Renaissance England or the problems of the elderly. For this
reason I wondered, several years ago, if I could get some undergraduates to
go through King Lear line by line with me and, as a result, see as fully as
possible the life and art in it.
Dubious of my ability to keep a whole class working together on a single
play for the entire fifteen weeks of the semester (for three credit hours), I
planned a ten-week course (for two credit hours), to be followed by an op¬
tional five weeks of independent study (for one credit hour). Students
were to read aloud from the play at length, putting themselves into the
characters, and the readings were to be interrupted by comments and
questions from the class and me. Since the normal fifty-minute class is short
for this purpose, I planned that the class would meet once a week for two
and a half hours. Eighteen students, ten men and eight women, took the
course. Except for a senior English major, a junior elementary education
major, and a junior speech major, they were sophomores, five majoring in
English and the others in civil engineering, dentistry, economics, elemen¬
tary education, political science, “pre-law,” and speech. Only two (English
majors) had taken a course in Shakespeare before—our usual sophomore-
level course, which covers about twelve plays.

142
 J. W. Robinson 143

For our text I inevitably chose the new Arden King Lear, edited by
Kenneth Muir. This edition, of course, contains as much information about
the language of the play as is available anywhere in one place, and it goes
into far more detail than, for example, the Signet and Pelican editions fre¬
quently used for undergraduate courses. To prepare for the course, I ab¬
sorbed as much of Muir s edition as I could, and I also tried to spark myself
by reading a recent critical work, choosing Marvin Rosenberg’s Masks of
King Lear which not only concentrates in detail on how Lear has been
acted (particularly useful for my purposes) but is also full of ideas about the
play in general. I had earlier read some of Harley Granville-Barker’s
famous prefaces and J. L. Styan’s Shakespeare’s Stagecraft; and G. L.
Brook s Language of Shakespeare helped me put some order into my
linguistic knowledge, which had earlier been much increased by Hilda
Hulme’s Explorations in Shakespeare’s Language. (S. S. Hussey’s Literary
Language of Shakespeare is now also available.)
At the first class meeting I explained that together we were going to try
to find as fully as possible the meaning of the play; I fortunately hit the right
note, and the class soon developed a useful sense that we were embarked
on a joint enterprise likely to demand our full powers. I also demonstrated
exactly what kind of information Muir’s edition provides. (The students
proved undaunted by the scholarly apparatus of this book; in fact, they
liked it.) I went on to give short accounts of early modern English, of
Shakespeare’s language, and of his theater (I took to class a 3’ x 2’ re¬
production, borrowed from our theater department, of the cut-open draw¬
ing by C. W. Hodges of his reconstruction of the Globe, from The Globe
Restored). I also explained the concept of the subtext. I cast the first act
(which has sixteen speaking parts) at random, necessarily ignoring the sex
of the students. I told them to rehearse their parts, to be prepared to
answer questions about their characters, and to read the whole play and
Muir’s introduction by the following week.
The twenty-five hours of class time proved insufficient for a reading of
the entire play, even though we stuck to the plan and doggedly read and
discussed. The only exceptions were a few short spells spent early on lis¬
tening to a recording of the play with Paul Scofield as Lear (dir. Howard
Sackler), which I introduced to help the students make their own readings
more energetic, and seeing a film of the Joseph Papp production, directed
by Edwin Sherwin, with James Earl Jones as a very moving Lear. After the
second class meeting, when we had reached only the end of the first scene
(307 lines), I selected the scenes for our reading: I.ii, iv; Il.iii, iv; Ill.iv, vii;
IV.i, vi, vii; V.iii. All the students liked reading. Neither expecting nor dis¬
couraging great acting, I taught (by example) the good readers to be
patient with the poor readers; our reading became bolder and more accom¬
plished as the course progressed. We changed parts each week. I only
144 A COURSE DEVOTED EXCLUSIVELY TO KING LEAR

sparingly corrected pronunciation. We would read for ten or fifteen

minutes, then go back over what we had read, often for thirty or forty
minutes. Once the class was under way, we rather freely commented on
one anothers’ interpretations. If speculation or New Criticism began to run
wild, I came up with short comments on the Elizabethan world picture
and on Jacobean political and social life, and Muir’s notes kept us in touch
with the realities of contemporary language and literature. In the end we
had read about half the play.
What occurred in class was not different in kind from what happens (I
assume) in many undergraduate Shakespeare classes, only we had the time
to explore one play more thoroughly than usual. Readings, followed by dis¬
cussions of the subtext, context, and staging, led to discussions about mean¬
ing. An example from the first scene will give some idea of how we dis¬
cussed the meaning of the lines just read. Darker, in “Meantime, we shall
express our darker purpose” (I.i.35), is glossed as “more secret” (Harbage,
Pelican ed.; Kittredge-Ribner) or “hidden” (Fraser). Muir glosses the line
with a suggestion by William Empson that Lear’s renunciation “in the eyes
of the world ... would be a gloomy one.” Students add (surely correctly)
that darker also has the sense of “murkier” and shades of the unholy in it. I
then ask the students such questions as the following: “In what tone of
voice does Lear speak this line? Is he ashamed? Proud? Defensive? Dar¬
ing? Tricky? Mysterious?” I have the student reading Lear’s part read the
line again: darker comes out aggressively, sounds more right than before,
and also produces merriment. This and similar questions (crawl, I.i.40,
proves fruitful, given Lear’s fondness for hunting) provoke much com¬
ment, based squarely on what is said and what is meant in the first scene,
about Lear’s kingdom, his rule, his personality, his relations with his
daughters, and his plans, as well as on the gerontology, “Freudian family
romance,” and aggression in the play.
As the reading progresses, the more legitimate and challenging become
questions about the contexts and echoes of the scenes. “Darker purpose,”
for example, comes up again when we reach Edgar’s rich and “mad” line,
“The Prince of Darkness is a gendeman” (III.iv.140). When we come to
IV.vi, I invite the students to work on the broken chains of meaning in
Lear’s “mad” speeches (IV.vi.81-200)—Muir’s notes are helpful but not
exhaustive—and to relate them to preceding events in the play. Why does
his mind run or wander in these particular channels? This scene of Lear’s
madness reverses the ceremony and formality with which the play begins,
and students spend much time making the connections between Lear now
and Lear earlier. Some, despite Lear’s advanced age, diagnose him as hav¬
ing Alzheimer s disease (the affliction that causes early senility) since they
have seen it in family friends or in relatives. Others raise the broader
thematic questions of sense and madness, wisdom and folly.
 J. W. Pobinson 145

A detailed reading of the play leads to insights through attention to even

such matters as stage directions (or the lack thereof). For example, Muir
tells us that “Enter Lear, fantastically dressed with wild flowers” (IV.vi.80)
was invented by an eighteenth-century editor as a substitute for the quar¬
to’s blunt “Enter Lear mad. ” I ask the students to find some justification for
this stage direction (see IV.iv.3-6) and also for other such directions and
indications of place in the scene headings. The students then become
detectives and begin to supply their own stage directions. “Give me the
map there” (I.i.36) does not, of course, lead to discussion, but “Is not this
your son, my Lord?” (I.i.7) leads to much comment about whether Ed¬
mund hears, or overhears, or does not hear the conversation, largely and
embarrassingly about himself, between his father and the Earl of Kent in
I.i.1-23,
The study of Lear’s awakening (IV.vii.21-84) leads to a discussion of
how meaning is distilled into style—in word and deed—and also of Shake¬
speare’s dramatic tact. The new simplicity in Lear’s diction and coherence
in his thoughts—“For, as I am a man, I think this lady / To be my child Cor¬
delia” (IV.vii.69-70)—invite comparison with his earlier ravings. Muir’s
note on “lady” and “child” is provocative, and Lear’s “man,” who now has
“fresh garments on him” (IV.vii.22), stands comparison with his earlier and
desperate notion of “man,” pronounced as he rips his clothes off
(Ill.iv. 103-07). Cordelia’s emotion-filled (but with what emotions?)
brevity seems more acceptable now than in I.i. In contrast to his earlier
scornful and vigorous kneeling in the face of rejection and disrespect
(Il.iv. 143-54), Lear kneels (or tries to), humble and wobbly, even while
those around him are lovingly and therapeutically respectful. At my sug¬
gestion, two students act out this same reconciliation scene from the old
King Leir (Muir’s edition contains selections from the major sources of the
play): this is the only occasion when we desert our large seminar tables. Not
only do Leir and Cordelia go up and down, like buckets in a well, in their
kneeling (I make the students do this), but their conversation runs for
altogether too long on the very question of knees and kneeling. Questions
of aesthetics arise, amid the hilarity.
The students write two long papers, describing the context, subtext, and
staging of two short (very short, for thoroughness is needed) scenes of their
own choosing that we have not read in class. The results are thoughtful,
honest, and often accomplished, and they are more satisfactory, in my ex¬
perience, than papers written on more general subjects, such as the pur¬
pose of the Fool in the play. Large issues—folly and wisdom, parents and
children, plainness and hypocrisy—naturally emerge from our close study
of the text, and they are more fruitfully taken up in class when they arise
than written about in papers.
After the ten-week course, six students chose to pursue the optional five
146 A COURSE DEVOTED EXCLUSIVELY TO KING LEAR

weeks of independent study. I asked each to write a thorough account of

one source of King Lear and Shakespeare’s use of it. The results were not
particularly good, and I no longer give this kind of assignment because it is
very hard for undergraduates not to paraphrase Geoffrey Bullough’s essay
on King Lear in volume 7 of Narrative and Dramatic Sources of Shakes¬
peare. A much better assignment, I now realize, would have been to ask
these six students to write long analyses of Hamlet, or parts of it, on the
model of our approach to King Lear, although the new Arden Hamlet was
not then available.
I encourage other teachers to try change-of-pace courses where major
works are concerned. One may profitably devote a class period a week to
readings by students, spend several weeks on one play (even at the ex¬
pense of curtailing the consideration of other plays), and require un¬
dergraduate nonmajors to use new Arden editions or, now that they are
becoming available, new Cambridge or Oxford editions, although not for
more than one play.
Some assessments of this course on King Lear have come from my
students, as well as from my personal sense of what was accomplished. In
their “evaluations,” three students expressed a wish that the course had
gone on for the entire fifteen weeks, but the others declared ten weeks to
be sufficient, one remarking on “the psychological uplift” thus blessedly
available two-thirds of the way through the semester. Only one admitted to
any boredom. All claimed to have learned an enormous amount about
Shakespeare and his times, as well as about King Lear. Gratifying, even
though ultimately not encouraging to English teachers, was the following
comment: “This method of reviewing a Shakespearean play is the only one
that makes sense—How can one possibly do a play justice in two or three
class meetings? They can t.’ Throughout the course I made few references
to other plays by Shakespeare, although I not infrequently hinted that our
method of reading and studying King Lear was applicable to all plays. The
students certainly did come to a good understanding of this one play and of
the elements of drama, and this understanding is surely of primary impor¬
tance. Class time was well spent, even though I gave no information about
the development or scope of Shakespearean or Renaissance drama, made
little effort to take up all the aspects of King Lear that I feel are important,
and had no well-ordered list of points to make. At the end of our marathon
(which was tiring) we all had the valuable sense that we did not, after all,
manage to grasp every inch of meaning in the play.
PARTICIPANTS IN SURVEY OF
SHAKESPEARE INSTRUCTORS
The following teachers of Shakespeare generously responded to the survey
on the teaching of King Lear that preceded preparation of this volume.
Without the invaluable information and insights so provided, the book
would not have been possible.

John B. Alphonso-Karkala, New York State Univ. Coll., New Paltz; John C. Bean,
Montana State Univ.; R. Mark Benbow, Colby Coll.; John Bligh, Univ. of Guelph,
Ontario; Lynda E. Boose, Univ. of California, Los Angeles; Robert E. Burkhart,
Eastern Kentucky Univ.; Ruth A. Cameron, Eastern Nazarene Coll.; Larry S. Cham¬
pion, North Carolina State Univ.; Doris A. Clatanoff, Concordia Coll., Nebraska;
Lance Cohen, Lawrence High School, Cedarhurst, New York; Robert G. Collmer,
Baylor Univ.; Joan F. Dean, Univ. of Missouri, Kansas City; Trudy Drucker, Bergen
Community Coll.; Thomas F. Dunn, emeritus, Drake Univ.; Richard D. Erlich,
Miami Univ.; Michael Flachmann, California State Coll., Bakersfield; C. R. Forker,
Indiana Univ., Bloomington; F. Richard Friedman, Central Oregon Community
Coll.; Ruth Ann Gerrard, Austintown-Fitch High School, Youngstown, Ohio; E.
Bruce Glenn, Academy of the New Church Coll.; Beth Goldring, Cowell Coll.,
Univ. of California, Santa Cruz; John K. Hale, Univ. of Otago, New Zealand; John B.
Harcourt, Ithaca Coll.; Harriett Hawkins, Linacre Coll., Oxford, England; Eugene
Hill, Mt. Holyoke Coll.; James E. Hirsh, Univ. of Hawaii, Manoa; Delmar C. Homan,
Bethany Coll.; Maurice Hunt, Baylor Univ.; J. Dennis Huston, Rice Univ.; Ann E.
Imbrie, Vassar Coll.; Lowell E. Johnson, St. Olaf Coll.; Robert Johnson, Miami Univ.;
George Burke Johnston, emeritus, Virginia Polytechnic Inst, and State Univ.;
William Kemp, Mary Washington Coll.; Arthur F. Kinney, Univ. of Massachusetts,
Amherst; Jean Klene, CSC, St. Mary’s Coll., Indiana; Peggy A. Knapp, Carnegie-
Mellon Univ.; David L. Kranz, Dickinson Coll.; Anne Lancashire, University Coll.,
Univ. of Toronto; Gordon Lell, Concordia Coll., Minnesota; Mark Lidman, Univ. of
South Carolina, Sumter; Robert Lynch, New Jersey Inst, of Technology; Fred R.
MacFadden, Coppin State Coll.; Toni McNaron, Univ. of Minnesota; Anthony Mer-
zlak, Suffolk Univ.; John J. Murray, Univ. of Scranton; Paralee Norman, Northwest¬
ern State Univ. of Louisiana; Ann Paton, Geneva Coll.; Vincent F. Petronella, Univ.
of Massachusetts, Boston; Robert B. Pierce, Oberlin Coll.; Phyllis Rackin, Univ. of
Pennsylvania; Hugh M. Richmond, Univ. of California, Berkeley; J. W. Robinson,
Univ. of Nebraska; Judith Rosenthal, California State Univ., Fresno; Kenneth S.
Rothwell, Univ. of Vermont; Brownell Salomon, Bowling Green State Univ.; Hanna
Scolnicov, Hebrew Univ. of Jerusalem; Sara Jayne Steen, Montana State Univ.; J. L.
Styan, Northwestern Univ.; Mark Taylor, Manhattan Coll., City Univ. of New York;
Sally Taylor, Brigham Young Univ.; Frances Teague, Univ. of Georgia; Michael
Warren, Cowell Coll., Univ. of California, Santa Cruz; George W. Williams, Duke
Univ.; Bruce W. Young, Harvard Univ.; Robert Zaslavsky, Bryn Mawr Coll.;
Georgianna Ziegler, Univ. of Pennsylvania; Virginia Zuniga-Tristan, Universidad de
Costa Rica.

147
9 ■’ •
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Films, Video Productions, Slides, and Recordings

Brook, Peter, dir. King Lear. Film. With Paul Scofield and Irene Worth. Athena-
Laterna Films, 1971. B & w. 134 min. Available from Films Inc., 440 Park Ave.
S., New York, NY 10016.
Elliott, Michael, dir. King Lear. Video production. With Laurence Olivier and Colin
Blakely. Granada Television International, 1983. Col. videocassette. 158 min.
Available for rental or purchase on Vi” videocassettes (%” U-Matic) from
Films for the Humanities, Inc., Box 2053, Princeton, NJ 08540.
Folger Library Slide Sets. SS-202 (Costumes in the Age of Shakespeare), SS-203 (The
Life of Shakespeare), and SS-212 (The Globe Theatre). Each set includes 20
slides, with narrative description of each slide and a Folger booklet. Folger
Shakespeare Library, 201 E. Capitol St., SE, Washington, DC 20003.
Kozintsev, Grigori, dir. King Lear. Film. With Yuri Jarvet and Elza Radzins. Lenfilm,
1971. B & w. 140 min. Russian, with English subtitles. Available on 16 mm film
from Audio Brandon Films, Inc., 34 MacQuesten Parkway St., Mt. Vernon, NY
10550; or on VHS or Beta videocassette from Tamarelle’s French Film House,
110 Cohasset Stage Rd., Chico, CA 95926.
Miller, Jonathan, dir. King Lear. Video production. With Michael Hordern and
Frank Middlemass. BBC-TV/Time-Life, Inc., 1982. Col. videocassette. 180
min. Available for rental or purchase on V2” videocassettes from Time-Life,
Inc., Video, Box 666, Radio City Sta., New York, NY 10101.
Rylands, George, dir. King Lear. Recording. The Marlowe Society and Professional
Players. 4 records. Argo, RG 280-283, 1961.
Sackler, Howard, dir. King Lear. Recording. With Paul Scofield. Shakespeare
Recording Society. 4 records. Caedmon, SRS-S-233, 1965.
162 WORKS CITED

Shakespeare: New Productions (1975-80). Slides. Photography by Thomas F. Holte,

commentary by Jean Klene. KaiDib Films International, PO Box 271, Glen¬
dale, CA 91209. Also see Set One (1958-70) and Set Two (1970-74).
Sherwin, Edwin, dir. King Lear. Video production. With James Earl Jones. Prod.
Joseph Papp. New York Shakespeare Festival, Central Park, New York, NY.
Live performance taped by Public Broadcasting System, 1973.
INDEX

Abrams, M. H., 9 Bullough, Geoffrey, 19, 38, 40, 41, 134,

Adams, John Cranford, 20, 29 146
Adee, Alvey Augustus, 107 Burckhardt, Sigurd, 25, 43
Adelman, Janet, 23 Burto, William, 80-81
Aers, David, 41-42 Bush, Geoffrey, 27, 102, 103, 140
Aesop, 42 Byrne, Muriel St. Clare, 17
Akrigg, G. P. V., 16
Alexander, Peter, 56 Calder-Marshall, Anna, 57
Allen, Michael J. B., 22, 107 Campbell, Lily B., 25
Alpers, Paul J., 25-26 Campbell, Oscar James, 16
Altman, Joel B., 17-18 Cavell, Stanley, 28
Anthony, Saint, 45-46 Chambers, E. K., 15, 20
Apuleius, Lucius, 39 Champion, Larry S., 13, 14
Aristotle, 50, 91-92, 96 Chaplin, Charles, 134
Artaud, Antonin, 56, 132, 134 Charney, Maurice, 26, 42
Chaudhuri, Sukanta, 17
Baker, Herschel, 3 Chesterton, G. K., 73
Bamber, Linda, 123 Clemen, Wolfgang H., 25, 44
Barber, C. L., 26, 65 Colie, Rosalie L., 23, 28
Barnet, Sylvan, 6, 27, 80-81 Cook, Ann Jennalie, 20
Barton, Anne, 3 Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, 82
Battenhouse, Roy W., 27, 123, 139 Craig, Hardin, 17
Beckerman, Bernard, 6, 20 Creeth, Edmund, 78
Beckett, Samuel, 131
Bergeron, David M., 13, 14 Danby, John F„ 11, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 47,
Berman, Morton, 80-81 48, 102, 103, 137
Berman, Ronald, 13-14 Danson, Lawrence, £3-24
Berry, Lloyd E., 3, 15 Dean, Leonard F., 11
Bettelheim, Bruno, 72 Dent, R. W., 15
Bevington, David, 5, 6, 14, 23, 41-42, Descartes, Rene, 50
108 Donne, John, 18
Bible, 15, 19, 27, 42, 62, 75, 78-79, 126, Doran, Madeleine, 18
139 Dryden, John, 10
Bindoff, S. T., 16 Duthie, George Ian, 22, 109, 121
Black, James, 96
Blakely, Colin, 57 Ebisch, Wal'cher, 13
Blayney, Peter W. M„ 23, 106-07, 109 Eckert, Charles W., 31, 135
Bodkin, Maud, 69 Edel, Marie, 3
Boose, Lynda E., 26, 36, 59-68 Edwards, Philip, 25
Booth, Stephen, 23, 90, 140 Eisenstein, Serge, 56
Booty, John E., 64 Elizabeth 1.16, 17, 18, 20, 25, 60, 61,
Bosch, Hieronymus, 45-46 112,144
Bowers, Fredson, 22 Elliott, Michael, 31, 55, 57-58, 130
Bradbrook, M. C., 18 Elton, G. R., 16
Bradley, A. C„ 8, 23, 24, 25, 26, 39, 86, Elton, William R„ 24, 27, 47, 53, 123,
88, 90, 92, 96, 111, 132, 136 131-32, 140
Brando, Marlon, 56 Empson, William, 144
Brecht, Bertolt, 56 Evans, G. Blakemore, 3-5, 16, 22, 39, 58,
Brook, G. L., 28, 143 81, 93, 105, 106, 108
Brook, Peter, 30, 31, 52, 55-56, 57, 58, Everett, Barbara, 28
114, 130, 132-35 Everyman, 75, 78-79
Brooke, Nicholas, 27, 90, 96, 139, 140
Brown, John Russell, 8-9, 21 Faber, M. D., 123
Brueghel, Pieter, 126 Farnham, Willard, 18, 28, 78

163
164 INDEX

Flahiff, F. T., 23 Hulme, Hilda M., 28, 143

Florio, John, 7 Hunt, Maurice, 36, 91-97
Fly, Richard, 28, 96 Hunter, G. K„ 7, 8, 38-39
Fortin, Rene E., 27-28, 140-41 Hurt, John, 57
Foucault, Michel, 44 Hussey, S. S., 28, 143
Francis of Assisi, Saint, 45
Fraser, Russell A., 6, 7-8, 18-19, 45, 144 Imbrie, Ann E., 36, 69-74
French, Car olyn S., 18
French, Marilyn, 123 James i, 16, 18, 45, 56, 144
Freud, Sigmund, 47, 62, 123, 144 Jarvet, Yuri, 30, 55
Frye, Northrop, 28, 69, 70 Johnson, Samuel, 8, 23, 88
Frye, Roland Mushat, 11, 19 Jones, James Earl, 143
Furness, Horace Howard, 13, 121 Jonson, Ben, 18, 91, 97
Jorgens, Jack J., 31, 56, 133, 135
Gaskell, Philip, 22 Jorgensen, Paul A., 24, 26, 47-48, 94,
Geoffrey of Monmouth, 38-39, 50 139-140
Godard, Jean-Luc, 56 Joseph, Bertram L., 16, 20
Goddard, Harold, 11, 27, 139 Joseph, Miriam, 28
Goldberg, Jonathan, 18 Jung, Carl, 69
Goldberg, S. L., 25, 140
Goldman, Michael, 25, 54, 96 Kahn, Coppelia, 67
Goldsmith, Robert Hillis, 18 Keast, W. R., 44, 85
Granville-Barker, Harley, 8, 20-21, 115, Keaton, Buster, 134
143 Keats, John, 59
Greenblatt, Stephen, 18 Kelly, Henry Ansgar, 17
Greenfield, Thelma N., 44 Kelso, Ruth, 17
Greg, W. W, 22, 38, 107 Kermode, Frank, 3, 4
Grock (clown), 134 Kernan, Alvin B., 11, 25
Gurr, Andrew, 20 Kernodle, George R., 28
King Leir. See The True Chronicle Historic
Halio, Jay L., 108 of King Leir
Halliday, F. E, 10 King, T. J., 20
Hankins, John Erskine, 10 Kirschbaum, Leo, 25
Harbage, Alfred, 5-6, 8, 18, 20, 108, 144 Kittredge, George Lyman, 121, 144
Harcourt, John B., 36, 119-24 Klene, Jean, 36, 125-29
Harsnett, Samuel, 7, 19, 39, 41, 52-53 Kliman, Bernice W., 31
Hattaway, Michael, 20 Knight, G. Wilson, 23, 24, 25, 26-27, 85,
Haydn, Hiram, 17 131, 139
Heilman, Robert Bechtold, 24, 25, 44, 85, Knights, L. C., 27, 139
93, 94, 123 Kokeritz, Helge, 28
Hennedy, Hugh L., 27, 140 Kott, Jan, 11, 24, 27, 56, 123, 131-32,
Hetherington, Robert A., 55 134
Hinman, Charlton, 13, 22, 107 Kozintsev, Grigori, 30, 31, 55-56, 130,
Hirsh, James E., 21, 36, 86-90 132-33, 134, 135
Hobbes, Thomas, 100 Kranz, David L., 28, 37, 136-41
Hodges, C. Walter, 20, 29, 143 Kress, Gunther, 41-42
Holinshed, Raphael, 7, 8 Kurosawa, Akira, 55
Holland, Norman N., 28, 123
Holloway, John, 28, 96 Lamar, Virginia A., 8
Holman, C. Hugh, 81 Lamb, Charles, 21, 111, 125, 131
Honigmann, E. A. J., 95 Lesser, Anton, 45
Hooker, Richard, 36, 98-104 Levin, Harry, 3, 4, 8
Hordern, Michael, 31, 45, 55, 56, 134 Levin, Richard, 25
Hornstein, Lillian Herlands, 69 Lewis, C. S., 10
Hosley, Richard, 20, 29 Lindsay, Robert, 57
Hoy, Cyrus, 6 Lovejoy, Arthur O., 17
Hughes, Ted, 134 Lyons, Bridget Gellert, 23, 25
 INDEX 165

Machiavelli, Niccolo, 18, 46-47, 120, Richmond, Hugh M., 30, 36-37, 130-35
122-23 Ridley, M. R., 108
Mack, Maynard, 23, 24, 47, 72, 132, 141 Rigg, Diana, 57
Mahood, M. M., 28 Roberts, Jeanne Addison, 14
Man veil, Roger, 31, 133, 134, 135 Roberts, Preston Thomas, Jr., 28
Marlowe, Christopher, 75, 78-79, 91, 92 Robinson, J. W., 37, 142-46
Marx, Karl, 133 Roche, Thomas P., Jr., 23-24, 48, 92, 140
Matchett, William H., 21, 90 Rosen, William, 28
McFarland, Thomas, 123 Rosenberg, John D., 139, 140
McKern, Leo, 57 Rosenberg, Marvin, 21, 24-25, 123, 133,
McLean, Andrew M., 31, 135 143
McManaway, James G., 14 Rothwell, Kenneth S., 30, 31, 36, 50-58
McNeir, Waldo F., 43 Rowse, A. L., 16
Middlemass, Frank, 46, 56-57 Rylands, George, 30
Miller, Jonathan, 31, 55, 56-57, 58, 130
Mil ward, Peter, 19 Sackler, Howard, 30, 143
Mirror for Magistrates, The, 7 Sackville, Thomas, 91, 92
Montrose, Louis Adrian, 18 Satin, Joseph, 38-39
More, Thomas, 18 Schmidt, Alexander, 15, 121
Muir, Kenneth, 7, 10, 14, 16, 19, 22, 38, Schoenbaum, S., 10, 15, 16
39, 41, 60, 85, 107, 109, 112-13, 121, Schongauer, Martin, 45-46
136, 143, 144, 145 Schiicking, Levin L., 13
Scofield, Paul, 30, 55, 56, 114, 143
Nims, John Frederick, 81 Second Shepherds’ Play, The, 77, 78
Noble, Adrian, 134 Sewall, Richard B., 25
Norton, Thomas, 91, 92 Shattuck, Charles, 3, 4
Novy, Marianne, 26 Shaw, John, 139
Nowottny, Winifred M. T., 41-42 Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 135
Nunn, Trevor, 125 Sherwin, Edwin, 143
Shostakovich, Dmitri, 55
Okes, Nicholas, 23, 106 Sidney, Philip, 7, 8, 39, 40, 41, 42
Olivier, Laurence, 31, 55, 57-58, 130, Siegel, Paul N., 139
131, 132, 134 Skulsky, Harold, 27
Onions, C. T., 15 Smith, Gordon Ross, 13
Ornstein, Robert, 18 Smith, Hallett, 3, 9
Smith, Irwin, 20
Papp, Joseph, 143 Smith, Lacey Baldwin, 16
Parker, Barry M., 31 Soellner, Rolf, 48
Partridge, Eric, 15, 121 Solon, 92
Pasternak, Boris, 55 Sophocles, 53, 75, 91-92
Paton, Ann, 36, 75-79 Spencer, Theodore, 10, 17, 102-03
Peat, Derek, 140 Spenser, Edmund, 7, 39, 40
Pechter, Edward, 28, 96 Spevack, Marvin, 4, 15-16, 54
Peckham, Morse, 95 Spivack, Bernard, 47
Perret, Marion, 31, 57 Sprague, Arthur Colby, 20
Perrett, Wilfrid, 38-39 Spurgeon, Caroline F. E., 25, 85
Petronella, Vincent F., 19, 36, 38-49 Stampfer, J., 11, 27, 139
Pope, Alexander, 115 Stauffer, Donald A., 25
Steel, Flora Annie, 70
Quinn, Edward G., 16 Stoll, Elmer Edgar, 28
Stone, Lawrence, 17, 60, 61-62
Rabkin, Norman, 134 Stone, P. W. K„ 22-23, 106-07
Rackin, Phyllis, 28, 141 Strathmann, Ernest A., 6
Radzins, Elza, 30 Styan, J. L„ 21, 36, 111-18, 143
Ray, Robert H., 1-31, 35-37 Sypher, Wylie, 45
Reiss, Timothy J., 44
Ribner, Irving, 26, 139, 144 Talbert, Ernest William, 17
 166 INDEX

Tate, Nahum, 73, 88, 134 Walker, Alice, 22

Taylor, Gary, 22, 23, 106-07, 109 Walton, J. K., 140
Teague, Frances, 36, 80-85 Warren, Michael J., 7, 8, 13, 22, 23, 36,
Theobald, Lewis, 106 105-10
Threlfall, David, 57 Weidhorn, Manfred, 26, 94
Tilley, Morris Palmer, 15 Wells, Stanley, 14
Tillyard, E. M. W., 10, 17 Welsford, Enid, 18, 134
Tobin, John J. M., 38-39 West, Robert H., 27-28
Traversi, D. A., 11 Wheelwright, Philip, 69, 74
True Chronicle Historie of King Leir and Whitaker, Virgil K., 18
His Three Daughters, The, 7, 8, 19, Wickham, Glynne, 19-20
39-41, 118, 123, 145 Willbern, David, 61
Turner, Victor, 62 Wilson, Harold S., 27, 139
Tutin, Dorothy, 57
Wilson, John Dover, 16, 22, 109, 121
Wilton, Penelope, 56-57
Urkowitz, Steven, 22-23, 31, 56, 106-07 Wittreich, Joseph, 27
123-24, 133-34 Wordsworth, William, 135
Ustinov, Peter, 57 Worth, Irene, 30, 57
Wright, Louis B., 8, 17
Van Doren, Mark, 11
van Gennep, Arnold, 63
Van Laan, Thomas F., 26 Young, Bruce W., 36, 98-104
Vickers, Brian, 23
Vietor, Wilhelm, 107
Zeffirelli, Franco, 131, 132, 134
Zesmer, David M., 16, 41-42
Wadsworth, Frank W., 6
Zitner, Sheldon P., 23, 28, 41-42
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