Symbolism, Imagery, Allegory - Characters, King Lear | King Lear - Summary, Themes & Characters - Novels PDF Download

We're just going to put this out there right now: any play/novel/story of some sort that features a character getting blinded is also probably saying something about metaphorical blindness. Like always.

In King Lear, there's a whole lot of talk about literal vision and metaphorical blindness, especially when it comes to fathers "seeing" their children for who they really are.

When Lear mistakenly believes that Cordelia is disloyal and orders her "out of [his] sight," his pal, Kent, gives him the following advice: "See better, Lear" (1.1.179, 118). 

In other words, Kent implies that Lear is "blind" to the fact Cordelia is the "good" daughter while Goneril and Regan are a couple of evil spawn. We can take this a step further by saying that the root of all Lear's problems is his lack of good judgment—he foolishly divides his kingdom, stages a silly love test to determine which daughter cares for him the most, etc.

Gloucester is equally "blind" when it comes to telling the difference between his "good" son (that would be Edgar) and his bad offspring (that would be Edmund)—Gloucester can't tell that Edmund has manipulated him into believing Edgar wants him dead. Later, Gloucester doesn't even recognize his son Edgar, who has disguised himself as "Poor Tom" the beggar. You can guess where Shakespeare is headed, right? Eventually, Gloucester's eyeballs are plucked out, making his literal blindness symbolic of his inability to "see" the truth about his children.

Lear's Crown

Typically, monarchs wear gleaming crowns atop their heads for one reason—because crowns are a visual symbol of power. In King Lear, Shakespeare often associates crowns with a loss of power and the king's deteriorating mindset. Let's think about this for a moment.

At the beginning of the play, Lear's Fool makes an interesting joke about the king's "crown" after Lear decides to give his kingdom to his evil daughters: 

When thou / clovest thy crown i' th' middle and gav'st away / both parts, thou […] hadst little wit in thy bald crown […] (1.4.163-166)

In other words, the Fool implies that once Lear divided ("clovest") his power (which was like cutting his "crown" down the middle into two parts) among his two daughters, he exercised poor judgment in his head ("bald crown"). Of course, the Fool is playing on the dual meaning of "crown" (a head or, the thing a king wears on top of his head) in order to demonstrate that Lear's decision to give up his crown and divide his power reflects an unstable mind.

The idea that there's a relationship between Lear's crown, his lack of power, and his state of mind shows up again later in the play. In Act 4, Scene 6, Lear enters the stage wearing a "crown" of wildflowers atop his head instead of a proper crown made of precious metals and gems. 

Here, Shakespeare emphasizes Lear's complete and utter loss of power, as Lear has long since divided up his kingdom among his daughters and has been stripped of all his authority. The "crown" of wildflowers also signifies Lear's deteriorated mental state and complete descent into madness—the idea being that what Lear wears on top of his head (wildflowers) is an accurate indication of what's going on inside Lear's head.

Diseased Bodies

There sure are a lot of references to sick bodies and diseased body parts in King Lear, wouldn't you say? It's like a David Cronenberg movie up in here.

We're especially interested in the way Lear talks about his evil daughters, Goneril and Regan, as though they are some kind of venereal disease that plagues Lear's body. Check out what Lear says to Regan after she boots him out of her palace:

We'll no more meet, no more see one another.
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter,
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil,
A plague-sore an embossèd carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood. (2.4.253-258)

When Lear goes off on Goneril, he insists she's more like a "disease that's in [his] flesh" than a daughter (his "flesh and blood"). Goneril, he says, is "a boil, a plague-sore," a nasty little "carbuncle" and so on. (In other words, Goneril, whose name sounds a lot like "gonorrhea," is kind of like a venereal disease.) 

Okay, Lear's really good at insults this is a pretty elaborate way for Lear to tell Goneril that she makes him sick. But, what else are we to make of all this nasty talk? On the one hand, this passage is in keeping with just about everything else Lear says about women (especially Goneril and Regan)—Lear frequently associates women with sexual promiscuity and pretty much blames all the problems in the world on the ladies, which we talk about in more detail in our theme on "Gender."

The Kingdom Of The Body

Yet, there's also something else going on here and it's a bit more complex. In Shakespeare's day, the human body was often used as a metaphor for a kingdom. In Shakespeare's Henry IV Part 2, for example, the kingdom of Henry IV (who is literally ill) is imagined as a human body wracked with disease, which turns out to be an appropriate metaphor for a commonwealth that's been plagued by civil rebellion and turmoil. 

Something similar is at work in King Lear. When Lear imagines that his body is diseased, we can't help but notice that his kingdom is also not doing so well. After all, it's just been hacked up into pieces by Lear and, with Goneril and Regan (and their spouses) now in charge, it's quickly becoming a corrupt place. What's more, civil war (not to mention a war with France) is on the horizon. 

In King Lear's mind, the corruption of his kingdom is caused by Goneril and Regan so, it's not so surprising that he refers to Goneril (in the passage above) as a "plague-sore."

History Snack: The kingdom/body metaphor was so popular, in fact, that King James I of England (a.k.a. King James VI of Scotland) used it to describe his duties as king. Here's a sampling of what King James says in The Trew Law of Free Monarchies (1598):

And the proper office of a king towards his subjects agrees very well with the office of the head towards the body and all members thereof, for from the head, being the seat of judgment, proceeds the care and foresight of guiding, and preventing all evil that may come to the body and any part thereof. The head cares for the body: so does the king for his people. […] in case any of them be affected with infirmity [the head/king] must cut care and provide for their remedy, in case it be curable, and, if otherwise, cut them off for fear of infecting of the rest, even so it is betwixt the prince and his people.

Ugh. It's getting gorier than an operating theater in here.

The Storm on the Heath

In Act 3, Lear rushes from a fight with his daughters into a raging thunderstorm. It's going to be no surprise to you to hear that the combination of thunder and lightning is pretty much what's going on inside Lear's mind, from his fury at his daughters to his impending madness. Thunder! Lightning! Misery!

At one point, Lear admits there's a "tempest in [his] mind" that's not unlike the storm that rages on the heath (3.4.15). In other words, the literal storm on the heath is a pretty accurate reflection of Lear's psychological state. (If you've seen Lear performed on stage, you know just how dramatic and compelling the sounds of thunder and lightening can be as Lear rages against his wicked daughters.)

We can also argue that the storm parallels Britain's fall into political chaos. Remember, Lear has divided his kingdom, civil war is brewing, and the King (Lear) is being treated pretty shabbily by his daughters and some of his other subjects. (Psst. As it turns out, Shakespeare happens to be pretty fond of this kind of symbolism. In Macbeth, for example, storms are associated with the rebellion against King Duncan and the political state of turmoil in Scotland.)

Alternatively, we could say that the powerful storm in which Lear gets caught up is a dramatic demonstration of the fact that all humans, even kings, are completely vulnerable to overpowering forces like nature. If you like this idea, check out our discussion of "Nakedness."

Nothingness

Shakespeare plays on the word "nothing" and the idea of nothingness or emptiness throughout King Lear. (Psst: that's one of the reasons this play is so insanely bleak.)

Here are a few significant moments from the play: In Act 1, when Lear stages his love test and asks Cordelia "What can you say to draw a third [of the kingdom] more opulent than your sisters?", Cordelia replies, "Nothing." Lear can't believe what he's hearing. "Nothing will come of nothing," he tells her. "Speak again." (In other words, you'll get absolutely nothing from me unless you speak up about how much you love me.) 

By the way, the phrase "Nothing can come of nothing" is a variation on the famous phrase "ex nihilo nihil fit"— that's Latin for "from nothing, nothing comes," which is an ancient Greek philosophical and scientific expression. It's the opposite of the biblical notion that God created the world (which is a whole lot of something) out of nothing (Genesis 1:1).

The word "nothing" shows up again in the play when the Fool tells Lear he is nothing without his crown and power: "now thou art an O / without a figure. I am better than thou art now. I / am a Fool, thou art nothing" (1.4.197-199). 

According to the Fool, King Lear is a zero and is no better than a "shealed peascod" (an empty peapod). The Fool also calls the retired king "Lear's shadow," which suggests that Lear, without his crown, is merely a shadow of his former self. The idea is that Lear, (whose status has changed since retirement) is nothing without his former power and title. Check out our discussion of the theme of "Power" for more on this.

Nakedness vs. Clothing

When Edgar disguises himself as "Poor Tom," he chooses to disguise himself as a naked beggar. Then, in the big storm scene, Lear strips off his kingly robes. Why might he do this, you ask? Is he just itching to feel the cool (er, freezing) air on his skin?

Nope. Lear has seen Poor Tom (naked) and asks, "Is man no more than this?" Then, presumably to find out if man is indeed "no more than this," he strips down to his birthday suit. What's up with that? Well, it seems that Shakespeare is making a point—that all men are vulnerable. In fact, man is nothing more than "a poor, bare, forked animal" (3.4.114-115). Donning rich and opulent clothing (like Goneril and Regan do), then, is merely a futile attempt to disguise man's true, defenseless nature.

Animals

The play makes many references to animals, from Lear's comparison of Goneril to a "detested kite" (1.4.274)—which is not just a child's toy but also a bird of prey—to Albany's comparison of humanity to sharks (4.2.60-61). 

What's the point? It seems that humans are no better than animals, at least in King Lear.

Old Men and Babies

There sure is a lot of talk in the play about old men being like "babes again" (1.3.20), isn't there? And they're not talking about being sexy. Check out this passage, where Lear announces his decision to transfer the burdens of kingship to the younger generation:

[…] and 'tis our fast intent
To shake all cares and business from our age,
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburdened crawl toward death. (1.1.40-43)

Wanting to retire and "shake all cares and business from our age" is understandable—it seems that King Lear is ready to kick back and enjoy his golden years. [By the way, it's pretty common for monarchs to go around referring to themselves in the plural (we, our, etc.) instead of the singular (me, my, etc.). This is called the "royal we."]

What's curious about this passage, however, is the way Lear conjures up an image of a feeble old man who, unable to walk upright, "crawl[s]" around on the ground… like a baby. What's up with that? The image suggest that growing old is a lot like being an infant again, which means there are no responsibilities (what Lear wants). 

Unfortunately, it also means that old age leaves one weak and powerless (not what Lear wants). Lear's not the only one who sees old age in this light—his daughters, Goneril and Regan, are more than happy to treat Lear like a baby and Lear finds that the powerlessness that comes with growing old can be pretty painful and humiliating, especially when his own daughters go around saying things like "O sir, you are old […] you should be ruled and led / By some discretion, that discerns your state / Better than you yourself" (2.4.164-168).

Shakespeare's point? Getting old sucks.

The Feather

After Cordelia is hanged, Lear initially seems to accept his loss, as insanely hard as it is. "I know when one is dead," he proclaims. "She's dead as earth" (5.3.312-313). 

Yet, a few moments later, Lear sees a feather stir upon Cordelia's lips, which leads him to believe that his beloved daughter is breathing and still somehow alive. "This feather stirs," he says, "she lives!"(5.3.319). 

What's going on here? Why does Lear think Cordelia is still breathing when it's obvious that she is not? How can a man stand over his daughter's dead body and convince himself that she's alive?

It seems that Lear experiences something pretty common and universal at this moment in the play. When we suffer a traumatic loss, we often hold out hope that a loved one is somehow still alive (this often happens despite concrete evidence to the contrary). 

Because it's often just too painful to accept, we often tell ourselves "Maybe it's not really true—this must be a terrible mistake." It seems that Cordelia's tragic death is just too painful for her father to accept and he convinces himself that it isn't really true. The feather, then, functions as a symbol of Lear's denial, one of the most common elements of grief.

Edmund's Letter

We thought you might come sniffing around here for ideas about Edmund's forged letter. (Psst. We talk about it in "Quotes" on "Language and Communication" so be sure to check it out.)