Character Analysis: Robert Baratheon I

Much has been written about  Robert Baratheon, but I would like to approach it from a different angle and tackle a particular point: the man is a realistic depiction of man’s loss of discipline being true pleasure. Or, perhaps a better words would be without true joy and contentment.

The king is a man of pleasure, from the very first pages describing Robert he is notably large in speech, large in appetites (discussing plums and melons and girls in the winter crypts), and where many espouse the view that his hedonistic nature and the case of ‘and then what?’ after conquest miss sight of what I think would have happened even without kingship. It is not his violence, his temperament, or even deeds that make Robert a mixed if not increasingly repulsive man the deeper one delves into the series. But in understanding through what happens to him the price paid in return for fickle and transient rushes of pleasure taken over the foundation of a life.

To be specific, because these do not apply to all people (most, not all) but certainly would to a Lord and King and warrior: the two greatest potential pleasures hollowing out Robert and exposing his weakness are lack of family caused by mutual faithlessness, and lack of male companions.

It’s not a discussed point, hardly anywhere but something obvious in light of Robert’s success and height. The battles and the women and the motives are easy to discuss; but there would be no war, no triumph without bannermen and allies. His foster father and friend Jon Aryn. Ned Stark, who interestingly enough in time of war he often quarreled with and parted from. The lords of the Crown and Stormlands he forgave, making them as loyal to him as can be expected within the Seven Kingdoms. Their loyalty secured his reign, Jon’s governance as Hand secured his government, and Ned ultimately secured his throne, as he travelled to battle at King’s Landing and the Tower of Joy in Dorne.

Regardless of Ned’s motives, of his isolation and furtiveness (Eddard’s arc itself is essentially a collection of mistakes drawing us into the franchise before the death of the good but unaware man) if he was such a close friend, how did he get away? He was a brother in age, and it brings up a problem in fairweather friends and possibilities sadly most of us can relate to. Many of us can talk of the past and affection and the glory days, but the remnant and tragic nature of ‘glory days’ is them being in the past honesly by choice. Nothing stopped Robert from retaining Stark. Just as nothing stopped him from trying to love his wife, being faithful. But the easier option and need to be appease dulled and rusted his mind (an analogy directly stated by Donald Noye to Jon Snow when breaching the topic). Peeling away nostalgia Stark argued with Robert. It is clear in A Game Of Thrones that he will threaten, shout and dismiss him and Eddard just as readily isolate and get on without him. We may not like it, but relationships require effort and adapting to different temperament. Those of ability, shared history and power, true friends stick by each other regardless.

Robert is a man best when warring, and, as Nietzsche once wrote, that a peaceful and successful warrior makes war within. Neglecting this conflict, slowly, over time bit away at the man, much as pride has taken those history recalls as idlers and dictators.

The years in the Eyrie made both friends into what they were, Robert in terms of training but arguably far more in Eddard being the character he is even than a Northerner with his very exacting chivalric sense of honour. Both remember it fondly, and when considering the austere, quiet, cold nature of the Eyrie it must be argued that the discipline, no doubt the firm but well-meant fostership of Jon was no hardship for Robert, out of his element he became the individual that would go on to do great things.

It is easy to mock your child, to abstain from fathering him, punch him for disturbing behaviour the same as for a brute to strike a spouse. Easer, more total, shattering the relationship. And fickle, hollow and foolish. It would have been his duty, a cause for the easy joy he craved, and a means to boast were he to take his assumed children anywhere, to do anything with them. Much like delegating presents given to Edric Storm, Robert Baratheon is a depiction of a more modernistic apathetic father archetype.

Another thing said in his first scene -though also by others in a grander point about neglect and priorities- is that the Wall will keep another eight thousand years. The dismissal and belief that things will support themselves, purely because they did before is as false of landmarks and defence as it is of human beings. Apathy breeds decay, it invites death. And while it’s very sweet, and quick, and easy, comfort begins to invite itself as guest, until it chokes and makes a man its master.

One who always finds the time to drink and father children he abandons could find the time to listen. Could find the time for anything. But discipline, not addiction or fate or divine will undo Robert in not facing the simple responsibilities that you reading this perform every single day faithfully. In its absence, the joy fades. Echoing this, Robert’s body thickens, his face reddens. Importantly Martin is clever to keep in the fact that he never loses his strength. He throws Jamie Lannister aside easily during a quarrel at the tourney grounds with Cersei and his commanding voice halts both Cleganes battling. Robert does not simply physically waste away, or be given away wholly to allegory. But as with a real person, the layers are more what keep away what he was, and what many people miss in the idea of what he can be.

The self-made king could have become wiser, taken an interest in any number of things, been a patron, matched scholarship with martial might as many conquerors and kings did time and again throughout human and fictional history. Robert I is not even the most notable hedonist when compared with Aegon the Unworthy; just lost enough and theoretically powerful enough to be a cautionary tale and tragedy.

It's true, and worth noting the worth of Jon Arryn and why he was the catalyst for the mystery, the plot and the war. But why was he the only man of reason and political acuity? Not from a cynical political perspective -or the obvious one about the tale GRRM is telling with its political themes- but reasonably considering both Robert, and all the other regimes GRRM details in 300 years and more of Westerosi history. Where are the ‘men of worth’ in the chivalric sense, Garlan the Gallant (which makes sense given Renly, Loras, and the plotting they very subtly are weaving at series opening), overtures to Northern, Westerlands, Stormlords or the Riverlands including those like Edumre (not the smartest but a notably good and conscientious man regarding the people). Dorne and other things won’t work as we, the reader understands…but no efforts are made. And rather than seeing women as another commodity or a treat to enjoy for the night, shrewd, intelligent, matronly women could play any number of roles, rather than the obvious influence he loathes of Cersei alone, their relationship twisting each other for the worst as his chauvinism sickens into corrupt abuse, and her opinion of women deepens into distain for anything but looks, and her view of men as all resentful and disposable.

The convenient choice, and acceptance of easy money (Littlefinger), easy gossip and an establishment figure to likely mock or use to reinforce a sense of superior masculinity (Varys) provides minds that a younger and inflexible Stannis or subdued Sir Barristan cannot counteract. The leal secondary figures, the Tyrion and Kevan Lannisters, the Lothor Brune’s who we see come into their own (for good reason and as intended by the author) throughout the series stem less from a stale and ‘realistic’ result of the masculine conqueror, but a neglectful and emotionally oversensitive rule. He conceptualises the coming war, he identifies readily causes of dissent and the need for strength and vigilance. But *personally lacking it, not so much delegating as being too indiscriminate or accurate in where to command cause large and small dissent leading to the consistent critical failure of being ignored. From the starting decision -reasonable but insulting and fuel for the war Lysa started- to strike off Warden of the East from Robbin Arryn’s titles and give it to Jamie Lannister, to the critical drama of commanding the assassination of Daenarys Targaryen and her unborn child.

Rather than discussing the Machiavellian nature of strategy, viability or morality; looking at Robert’s character what’s vital is how he is utterly ignored even by his best friend, speaking the sense he asked him and performing a duty he called him for. His apathy is taken for stupidity, allowing Varys to weave the failed attempt that hardens Daenarys’s resolve, binds Mormont to her cause more deeply, while men of honour are disgusted and the wags cynically continuing their own plans. Robert is a bellowing drunk at his own council. Not because he is a fool, or a villain, or a bad person. But out of common sense. What can you expect when you never attend a council, never monitor or empathise with your ministers, and find the solution to bellow more loudly then retreat yet again in pursuit of temporary vices? The crown may as well be tin foil upon his head. Because the man without power, the individual performing the most menial task or with a will like Margaery to charm the populace with her court of ladies sharing sisterhood and love of hawking, art and conversation, an Arya with her incredible resourcefulness, or Brienne with her devotion all have far more power and autonomy even when ordeal comes to them.

Riding in the barrowlands pleases Robert, and option he could have often taken throughout the city, on a progress across his lands, activity he speaks of just as he does any other pleasure but one causing him no detriment or demand in turn.

When desperate, Baratheon acts. When it is too late, and the decline is so large that as with trying to put on his armour, appointing Stark becomes meaningless and inefficient when he bellows and threatens him. The slowness of his response in the long term, not that he fails to act, but as an abrupt person simply thinks he can will what he has not cultivated backfire in all the ways leading to his death. Too slow to appoint or shift the political landscape, too slow to hear a dissenting opinion besides the very likely entirely passive Jon Arryn. Literally too slow in his last action, too slow to stop drinking and at the last his reaction time (not his strength) causing his wound when the pleasure of hunting bests him. The one physical pleasure related to risk and danger, it must be added. Wine does not kill Robert, though many characters in-story conflate the tail. But a wild animal, desperate, not seeking to rut or eat but to live when baited attacks the predator caring nothing for it being a king. In the only honest ‘combat’ Robert engages in, he is overcome in the harsh practical world where might affects survival, just as he famously shattered the complex, sensitive and similarly inconstant Rhaegar Targaryen and all of his songs and grace broken to the stronger warrior. A sad touch I find shows the best of him is being the only character to attribute the wound not to politics or with a self-defacing remark; but simply that the gods sent the boar. He views it as divine punishment for hubris, and at the last giving his responsibilities and smile thinking of Lyanna and his friend prove the true happiness was the friendships and loves of a quality nothing he could put into his mouth or put himself inside can match or matter at the end.

Like fruit, Robert Baratheon swells. He takes on colour, an exotic sight. His beauty and ability to catch the eye with prowess, humour and charisma elevated him beyond peer within his society. But Robert is a man; not a flower or fruit. And by living solely for himself, neglecting what would truly nourish and please him and overripening himself, he burst at the end. The worst killing the Demon of the Trident ever made was slaughtering his younger self, the sole cause of fond memory and what kept the realm in peace before death. Without keeping fit, keeping in touch, respecting his realm or House or responsibilities in any way he festered and laid the ground for the wars to follow.

References:

Martin, G.R.R. A Game of Thrones. Harper Voyager, Great Britain 1996.

Martin, G.R.R. A Clash of Kings. Harper Voyager, Great Britain 1998.

Martin, G.R.R. A Storm of Swords. Harper Voyager, Great Britain 2000.

Martin, G.R.R. A Feast for Crows. Harper Voyager, Great Britain 2005.

Martin, G.R.R. A Dance of Dragons. Harper Voyager, Great Britain 2011.