“Blow, winds! Rage! Blow!”
Then, his mood altering, he called them the servile ministers of two pernicious daughters, who had joined with them in battle against an old white head.
So he went on, raving wildly, while all the time the faithful Fool clung to him, half supporting his tottering steps, and still striving with his jests to divert the mind of his heart-broken master.
Meanwhile, friends of the King were working on his behalf. Information had reached the Earl of Kent that there was secret division between Albany and Cornwall, though the face of it was hidden with mutual cunning. Word had been carried to France of the harsh way in which both these sons-in-law had behaved to the old King, and Cordelia was on her way to rescue her father, and had already landed with an army at Dover. The Earl of Gloucester also, disgusted with the brutal behaviour of Regan and her husband, was now on the watch to protect the old man. After King Lear had been driven out into the storm, Gloucester overheard a plot to put him to death. He at once made arrangements to secure his safety, and, setting out in search of the fugitives, he found them in a wretched little hovel on the heath, where they had gone for shelter. The poor old man’s wits were now entirely gone, and his distracted brain could do nothing but brood over the heartless cruelty of his daughters, which had brought him to this condition. But he was tenderly humoured and watched over by the few followers still left to him, and now by their loyalty he was safely conveyed out of reach of his enemies. Gloucester told Kent there was a litter waiting ready, and bade him take up his master in his arms at once, and carry him to it, and then drive instantly to Dover, where he should receive both welcome and protection. If he delayed in the slightest degree, the King’s life, and Kent’s, and all who offered to defend him, would assuredly be lost.
Thanks to the devotion of his faithful friends, the poor old King was safely conveyed to Dover, but a terrible fate rewarded the loyalty of the Earl of Gloucester. Finding out the part he had played in the escape of King Lear, the Duke of Cornwall, with savage barbarity, had both the eyes of the nobleman put out, and then Regan pitilessly bade her servants thrust him forth from his own castle.
A just punishment, however, overtook the brutal Earl. One of his own servants, indignant at his cruelty, refused to perform his bidding. Cornwall, enraged, fell upon the man, and they fought. Regan, coming to her husband’s assistance, stabbed the servant from behind, but not before the man contrived to wound the Earl so seriously that he soon after died of the injury.
King Lear reached Dover safely, and Cordelia was prepared with the most tender affection to welcome her old father. But remorse for the injustice with which he had treated this daughter, and robbed her of her rights, to bestow them on her worthless sisters, so stung King Lear’s mind that shame kept him from seeing Cordelia, and he contrived to make his escape from the French camp. Cordelia sent out in search of him, and he was presently found wandering about on the cliffs, all decked out with wild flowers, but still in his madness assuming the majesty of a King. He was taken back to the camp, and placed in the care of a skilful doctor, who said that the chief thing needed to cure his shattered senses was complete repose. The poor old King was put to bed, and everything was done to aid his recovery; in the tent where he lay attendants watched so that nothing should disturb him, and soft music was played. He had a long, refreshing sleep, and when the moment of awakening came, to the great joy of Cordelia and those who had followed him so faithfully, it was evident that his reason was restored.
The first sight on which his eyes opened was the loving face of Cordelia. For a moment the King thought it must be some spirit from heaven, and could scarcely believe that it was indeed his own daughter, in flesh and blood. He thought that his wits must still be wandering.
“Where have I been? Where am I?” he murmured, looking round with dazed eyes, while the spectators watched with mute anxiety, to see what turn his malady would take. “I should die with pity to see another thus. I know not what to say. I will not swear these are my hands; let’s see. I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured of my condition!”