It is strange to think that true madness can ever be fully understood. Shakespeare's masterful depiction of the road to madness, however, is one of the strongest elements of King Lear. The early and middle stages of Lear's deterioration (which occur in Acts I to III) form a highly rational pattern of irrationality: Lear's condition only degenerates when he is injured or when a piece of the substrate rock on which his ancient stable world rested is shaken. . His crazy behavior makes a lot of sense. Despite his age and frailty, Lear is not a weak character; it is difficult to imagine how any other character could have better withstood such a mental and emotional weight that the king suffers. Lear's increasing madness is only understandable when interpreted with a proper appreciation of the intense forces acting on him and the gradual disappearance of everything he finds recognizable in his old world. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get the original essay As Lear leaves his palace to go to his daughters, he is still sane, although he begins to regret disowning Cordelia, the first sign of mental stress and the first step towards his possible madness. Lear's Fool insults him about this rash decision, and the king blurts, “Oh! let me not be mad, not crazy, my God; / Keep me angry; I wouldn't be crazy! (Iv46-47) It is a harbinger of thoughts to come. Lear's impending madness parallels the growing storm; both threaten to break apart at any moment. But Lear is strong: he does not suddenly give in to madness; instead, he holds on as long as he can, only gradually slipping into madness. And Lear is strong, it is important to note the severity of the stressors acting on him; ignoring them can lead to a misinterpretation of his character as a weak, senile old man instead of a capable leader simply mistreated by the people he trusts. Maybe he was stupid to trust them in the first place, but he wasn't crazy. Above all, Lear's madness is understandable. It is rooted in disarray. Each time a loved one hurts him, Lear grows weaker, as does his grip on reality. One by one, the pillars that had raised it above the rest of Britain for eighty years are crumbling, leaving it finally at the bottom of the ladder, in a frightening and foreign territory. When Lear discovers Kent in the stocks at the start of Act II, Scene IV, he simply cannot understand what happened to make his daughter treat her messenger with such insolence. First, Lear laughs, it must surely be a joke! But Kent informs him that Regan and Cornwall are personally behind the humiliation. Lear can't believe it. Their exchange is almost comical (especially in contrast with the lines that follow): “No.” "Yes." “No, I say.” “I say, yes.” “No, no, they wouldn’t.” “Yes, they did.” “By Jupiter, I swear, no.” “By Juno, I swear, yes.” Lear refuses to see the truth; he desperately seeks another explanation for what is perfectly obvious. Whatever comedy the dialogue produces is then instantly negated by Lear's intense lament: They dared not do it; they could not, did not want to do it; it is worse than an outrage. Decide for me, in all modest haste, in what way you could merit, or it would be imposed, this usage coming from us. [...] O! how this mother swells up to my heart; Hysterica passion! down you are theclimatic sorrow! Your element is at the bottom. (II.iv.21-57) A part of Lear's world that was once cement is suddenly loose, fluid, not at all reliable. He is hurt not only as a king by a subordinate, but also as a father by a daughter, which brings him special suffering. Additionally, Regan's salvo aggravates the wounds inflicted by Goneril, causing Lear to suffer doubly. Note the phrase “down you climb sorrow!” » The damage done to Lear's heart escalates psychosomatically to his brain. He resists his ascension; when it finally catches up with him, when the last of the remnants of Lear's old world dies, he is subjected to the horrible flounder usually felt only by creatures in the midst of major earthquakes, when they discover that the only fundamental constant of life in their case, the solidity of the earth beneath their feet? is nothing more than an illusion, an imposture, and always has been. Lear has no earthquake; he has a storm which, with its gusts and torrents, fairly faithfully reflects the chaos of his mind. Lear's brain is at this point overwhelmed by grief of two kinds: he has lost his daughters and also his political capacity. Lear does not lose his head, but rather has his head torn off. Whatever method is used, it moves away, as the storm outside gets worse. Thunder is heard just after Lear says he is "[a]s full of sorrow as age; miserable in both!" (II.iv.273) and moaned: “O fool! I'm going crazy! (II.iv.286) Lear refuses to deign to remain without his knights in one of his daughters' houses; instead, he chose to retreat into the woods. Lear's first entrance on stage is in his formal and rigid palace; then he appears in his daughters' little houses; now he is in the wild. As Lear moves to less and less formal places, his mind deteriorates as well. Act III reveals the political disorder that has engulfed Britain. In the absence of the king's central authority, Lear's rival successors create their own chaos with their machinations against him and each other. Disarray exists in three spheres: mental, in Lear's head; political, as villains plot for power and everyone's downfall; and physical, in the literal storm. All this contrasts with Lear's earlier orderly rule. Lear's madness intensifies. In Act III, scene ii, he speaks to the weather; his rants aren't completely crazy, however, because they have an element of fun in them: a (once) powerful king having fun, shouting at the elements to do nothing more. Yet even if Lear retains control of his faculties, his tirade still has something disturbing. It is the somewhat unconscious knowledge that real madness threatens, that this kind of behavior will not be forgivable for long. Lear feels it too: when the mind is free, the body is delicate; the storm in my mind absorbs all the feelings of my senses, except what beats there. Filial ingratitude! [...]To exclude me! Pour over; I will endure. On a night like this! O Regan, Goneril! Your good old father, whose frank heart gave everything, O! this is how madness lies; let me avoid that; none of that anymore. (III.iv.11-22) Lear alternates frighteningly between being incredibly aware of his mental decadence (he interrupts his train of thought, recognizing that he is declaiming) and impulsively goading the rain (the sudden "Pour on") . Lear's descent into madness is made all the more authentic by the appearance of Edgar, disguised as poor Tom; he feigns madness with gibberish, like "O! do de, do de, do de"..