The Madness of King Lear by Louis Boulanger. Photograph: De Agostini Picture Library/Getty Images. — *The Madness of King Lear* by Louis Boulanger. Photograph: De Agostini Picture Library/Getty Images.

The Nature of Madness in King Lear

Shakespeare’s King Lear attempted to present mental illness as a serious character trait at a time when most Elizabethan drama simply utilized “madness” for the audience’s comedic relief. The nature and extent of Lear’s mental illness are still up for debate, often revolving around the question if he was mad from the outset of the play. Textual evidence does not offer a clear yes-or-no answer, but perhaps such clarity is unnecessary; it is clear from Lear’s words and the words of those around him that his actions suggest deranged morals and irrational thought, a tragic defect which spurs his later madness and then turns him back to reality, delivering Lear to redemption just before his demise.

At the beginning of Act I, Lear announces his bewildering intention to abdicate the throne and divide the kingdom equally among his three daughters, Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia, in order to “shake all cares and business from our age,” (1.1.41). Before he carves them each a piece of the map, Lear tests his daughters by asking them to express their affection for him, and whichever daughter is most adoring gets the most territory. “Which of you shall we say doth love us most, that we our largest bounty may extend where nature doth with merit challenge” (1.1.33- 35). Goneril and Regan both exalt him with fawning praise, although Cordelia famously refuses to quantify her love in words, prompting Lear’s fury, who then disinherits her of all lands and titles. While this action at the start of the play does not suggest madness, it is highly irrational and selfish and hints at a deeper disturbed mindset. At the time, kingship was a divine right, a gift bestowed from God by birth to rule over others. For Lear to surrender the throne before his death, merely to enjoy old age in the comfort of his daughters’ estates, would be a rejection of that gift. Further, Lear’s scheme to divide the kingdom was set before he summoned his daughters and demanded they praise him in exchange for the largest share. Such a demand served no greater political aim and only served to satiate a narcissistic need for gratification at the expense of corrupting his family’s morality. His outburst when Cordelia refuses to play his game, and the turmoil that decision creates throughout the play, may not initially reach as far as insanity but it does hint at a state of mind that is far from stable.

None of this is lost on those around him. Later in the act, after playing along to her benefit, Goneril tries to find excuses for his behavior but still admits her father may have a tenuous grasp on reality: “’Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself” (1.2.295-296). Regan then responds with her own concerns about the consequences of Lear’s impulsive whims: “Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent’s banishment” (1.2.303-304).

For Lear himself—as he’s confronted with the unintended repercussions of his abdication—madness is something he lurches in and out of; it’s a temporary affliction. He tinkers with it, muses on it, and seems to be aware that his grasp on sanity is fading. This is a frequent lamentation throughout the play, a refrain Lear reaches for whenever he’s exasperated. He tells the Fool, “O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!” (1.5.46). He warns Goneril, “I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad.” (2.4.218). In the same scene, as a storm sets on them, he exclaims, “O Fool, I shall go mad!” (2.4.285). Insanity, it seems, is a path he desperately seeks to avoid, saying in Act III, “O, that way madness lies; let me shun that.” (3.4.21). Perhaps it is this self-awareness that pulls Lear back to reality and allows him to reconcile with Cordelia.

By the end of Act IV, Lear’s madness is in its most violent throes. He is wandering aimlessly near Dover, crowned with wildflowers, and babbling incoherently. Later, Lear and Cordelia are reunited in the French camp, he awakes, and presciently asks, thinking his estranged daughter is a spirit, “Where have I been?” (4.7.52). Again, Lear shows a biting self-awareness, having literally wakened from his psychotic trance. He’s been miraculously cured, ready to make amends and settle his unfinished business with Cordelia. Lear admits “I am a very foolish fond old man, … I fear I am not in my perfect mind.” (4.7.60). This newfound clarity—sanity— remains with Lear for the remainder of the play, lasting to the ruin of his family and the death of Lear himself. Ultimately, it is this lifting of Lear’s madness that allows him to see through the clouds of his narcissism, the delusions of grandeur that led to such a scheme as to split apart from the country to see which loves him more.

The genesis of this madness then remains uncertain: perhaps the king was truly mad, perhaps he was just arrogant. What is certain is that Lear’s bouts of temporary insanity—treated by Shakespeare with purpose and nuance and dramatic weight, something vastly greater than a punchline—serve as a catalyst to redeem his character and provide some bittersweet closure on an otherwise brutal tragedy.

Works Cited

Shakespeare, William. King Lear. Ed. Russell Fraser. New York: New American Library, 1998.