Uncomfortably Close to Richard III
When I am a witness to something horrible, I feel tarnished, weakened, and dirty. This thing — be it violence, cruelty or inflicted pain — reaches in and touches something deep inside me, pulling me in, making me a part of the contagion.
Had I caused the situation, the emotions would be different: guilt, anger, fear, panic, a brain on overdrive looking for justification and absolution, but I am instead an observer, somehow by my stunned passivity and inability to affect what’s happened, I am caught, held, and held too closely.
Driving past a bad accident does this. Initially I am annoyed at the delay, the endless line of unmoving vehicles in front of me, the merging of lanes ever smaller and tighter until finally the problem comes into view. It’s right there on the far side of the road barrier, ringed by police and emergency trucks lights flashing, with people wandering around or huddled in small groups beside crumpled cars. I am not proud of what I am feeling: relief (“It's not me”) and embarrassed that I want to drive by and get on with my day. I can (and do) forget this moment
It is not possible to forget the emotional violence we witness. It reaches deeper into our beings and draws back what we ourselves have felt, This is (in part) why great art touches us so deeply.
We cannot look away from Richard’s horrifying account of his cold seduction of Anne, whose husband and father Richard has so recently killed. Richard having dispatched most of the characters in the course of his play, addresses his explanation of his conquest directly to the audience and we cannot look away in spite of our revulsion. Shakespeare, through King Richard has touched up deeply with familiar horror.
I'll have her but I will not keep her long
What I, that kill'd her husband and his father:
To take her in her heart's extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by,
Having God, her conscience and these bars against me —
And I no friends to back my suit at all,
But the plain devil and dissembling looks —
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
Ha!
[I,ii.234 -243]
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