Only for you.”
We now come without any further slips of prolixity to the only two pretenders for whom we can entertain the least enthusiasm—to the classical examples of feigned madness in English Drama, Edgar and Hamlet.
Edgar is represented as simulating “Poor Tom” of Bedlam, one of the lunatics who roamed about the countryside, possessed by the “foul fiend,” and dependent upon such charity as kindly hearts might prompt. How well he counterfeits need only be suggested. It is, after all, an easy matter for an author to portray feigned madness for a scene or two with something like accuracy. But what a genius is required to lead his pretender, so to say, “through fire and through flame,” place him in all kinds of situations, cause him to change his disguise from lunatic to peasant, then back to lunatic again, marking all the time by subtle touches the most delicate shades of expression. The burthen of his cry, as one would expect, is “Poor Tom’s a-cold. . . . The foul fiend follows me.” Persistently he raves and consistently, but at times “the natural touch” overcomes him,
“My tears begin to take his part so much
They mar my counterfeiting.”[172:1]
An even more wonderful effect of art is pointed out by Mr. Cowden Clarke. Gloster, now blind, would seem to recognise amidst the wild ravings of his son “some tone or inflection in Edgar’s voice . . . and he links (his son’s conduct) with that of Lear’s daughters. Edgar, instinctively feeling this, perseveres with his Bedlam
cry, to drown the betrayed sound of his own voice and maintain the impression of his assumed character.” If this is really Shakespeare’s art and not the imagination of the critic—as some might think it to be—it is but one more illustration of his dramatic genius.
Apart from such details as these, the character of Edgar, especially during his feigned madness, is a genuine masterpiece. At times during the play he has certainly some of the frigidity—closely allied to a quality which is dangerously like self-righteousness—which marks Shakespeare’s own Isabella. But in these scenes of madness he is all tenderness and forgiveness. His compassion on his blinded father we feel the more keenly in contrast with Gloster’s own conduct and the ingratitude of Lear’s children. Edgar is Shakespeare at his best and truest—he rings true—we may even say that he stands for Truth itself. And thus his feigned madness is no ordinary stage-device requisitioned by an unmanageable plot. It has uses connected with the plot, indeed, but beyond these it brings out characteristics of the man which endear him to the most hostile spectator.
Lastly we come to Hamlet and his feigned madness. Like most of the Pretenders he is introduced into a play where real madness also plays a part, but unlike any of them he is actually in a condition verging on madness.
Possibly it is by a kind of self-preservative instinct that he chooses that disguise for his purpose of deceiving the King. Fortunately he is able to prevent his mind actually giving way, and so he defeats the King’s designs, seeing “a cherub that sees them.” He shrinks from nothing; his demeanour towards those whom he loves, and especially towards Ophelia, fully bears out his supposed affliction. He appears with doublet all unbraced,