Shakespeare's Final Play2 April 2015tIt can be really annoying as you read a book and pick up all of these wonderful ideas about the themes and suddenly discover that you have forgotten them by the time you get around to writing the review. Honestly, it happens to me all the time, and it is even more annoying with these Shakespeare Signet editions which are crammed full of essays so one tends to also suffer from information overload by the time one reaches the end. I must say though that I love these Signet editions simply because of the interpretive essays that they contain – they even contain one by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.tAnyway, the Tempest is by far one of my favourite Shakesperian plays. I studied it in university, have read it six times, and seen it performed another three (and this does not include the BBC version, and Prospero's Books, which I have also watched). The play itself has so much in it that I even wonder if I could truly touch upon every aspect of it, though I will give it a go (though I will be writing a blog post later this year if I get around to seeing another performance of the play).tSo, the story is about a sorcerer (Prospero) who has been banished from his dukedom and fled, with his daughter (Miranda), to an unnamed island in the Mediterranean, somewhere between Sicily and the coast of Africa. Upon arrival he confronts, and defeats, the witch Sycorax (and what a cool name that is) and becomes the island's master. Years later a ship carrying some Italian nobles, who are on their way to Tunis, get caught in a storm and land up on the island. As it turns out these nobles are the ones that removed Prospero from power. So then begins a game, of which Propsero is the master, to teach these nobles a lesson in humility (as well as marrying off his daughter to the prince Fernando).tI probably should now discuss a bit of the context to the play. Okay, I can hardly say that the New World had just been discovered (Columbus had landed there over a hundred years prior to the production of the play) but it was still very much a new world. England at established their first colony at Jamestown, and Montaigne had written an essay on the noble savage. Also there had been a story about how a ship travelling to the New World had become caught in a storm and pretty much left for dead, only to reappear a year later (and the account of this story has been included in the signet edition that I read). These documents, as well as Ovid's Aeneid acted as a source to the play, but other than that this is one of Shakespeare's very few original works.tWith this in mind I wish to first touch on the idea of Colonialism. There was a version of this play produced during the 19th Century that did use the idea of Colonialism in the performance, but to link this play as such is very much a post-modern interpretation of the play. However, that does not necessarily mean that this interpretation is wrong, it is just that I highly doubt that Shakespeare set out to criticise colonialism. Okay, Prospero can be seen as the European colonist who effectively invades and takes control of the island for himself, reducing Caliban to a slave (though his character does not seem to be portrayed as a noble savage, rather as a base and wild creature that cannot be tamed). The original master of the island, Sycorax, has been replaced by the enlightened European, though some of the natives of the island are unable to adapt (Caliban) while others can (Ariel). However, Prospero ends up leaving the island and in doing so gives Ariel (the enlightened native) his freedom, meaning that this island is now in effect a part of Europe, and even though Caliban has also been freed, he has not risen above his base nature.tAnother idea that has been suggested is that the Island is edenic in structure, however I really don't accept that idea simply because Prospero (the God figure) does not create the island but rather takes control by defeating Sycorax. If it is the case that the island represents Eden, then what is suggested is that the island was evil prior to the arrival of Prospero and by defeating Sycorax Prospero has in effect sanctified the island. That interpretation would be all well and good if Prospero was in effect a redeemer, but in many cases his is not and I struggle to see him in that role. He is not so much redeeming the island, but usurping the rule. There is no indication (other than the fact that she was described as being a witch) that Sycorax was ever meant to be evil. However, while I may suggest that, I believe that Shakespeare wants us to believe that she was evil and needed to be defeated.tThis takes me to the question of nature. Sycorax is in effect one with nature, and from Sycorax we get Ariel, who is connected with the air, and Caliban, who is connected with the earth. Prospero represents art, and the conflict on the island is the conflict between nature and art. Nature is not necessarily bad, as Ariel represents that which is beautiful in nature, that which can be tamed and transformed; while Caliban represents that which is base, wild, and untameable. Nature at its purest is in some ways beautiful, and in others wild and untameable. Nature can be tamed into a garden, but the base and wild aspects of nature, such as weeds, will always return to destroy that which has been tamed. While a dog can be tamed, the dog needs to constantly be reminded how to behave otherwise it will return to its base wild nature. Some animals can be tamed, and will remained tamed; some animals simply can never be tamed – this is Caliban: the wild, unpredictable aspect of nature.tThis is where Prospero comes in – he is God. There is no two ways about it. Just as Christianity, at the time, was seen as taming the wild excesses of pagan Rome, Prospero comes to the island and tames nature. However Prospero is so much more than that. Throughout the play he is in complete control. He learnt his lesson from Milan, where he was banished because he spent more time in his books than he did ruling the city, and as such was seen as a bad ruler. However he managed to flee with his books (and his daughter) and his time on the island has taught him the necessity of sovereignty. In one performance that I watched Prospero was present in every scene, even the scenes in which Shakespeare had not written him. The tempest that brought the nobles to the island was conjured up by him. The attempted assassinated is crushed without raising a sweat, and the nobles are teased and mocked throughout the play. Prospero is in charge – Prospero is God.tThere is also the idea about Prospero being Shakespeare himself, and some have interpreted the scene where Prospero breaks his wand as Shakespeare saying that he is retiring from writing plays (and since this is, allegedly, the last play he wrote alone, many believe that adds weight to the interpretation). There is merit in this belief because, like God, Shakespeare has created this island. In fact the author is god of everything they write. Okay, that may be a Calvinist interpretation of God, since the characters in the story have no freedom whatsoever. Still, considering that the only person in the play that is free is Prospero (every other character, at one time or another, is enslaved to Prospero's will), this also supports this argument. The author creates the world, creates the characters, and then creates the destiny of each and every character. The author decides whether the character lives, or dies. The author, in effect, has complete authority over the composition of the story, and everything in it.tAnyway, I think I will leave it at that as it is late, I am getting up early tomorrow to go for a drive over the Easter long weekend, and my brain, in effect, has turned to mush. However, I will say that I just love this play, and no doubt I will be writing more of it in the future.
Knowing that The Tempest is most likely Shakespeare's final play, it's hard to avoid noticing the hints of retirement in the text. Toward the end of the final act, Prospero solemnly describes the conclusion of his practice of the magic arts, just as Shakespeare might describe the end of his writing career:Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oakWith his own bolt; the strong-based promontoryHave I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd upThe pine and cedar: graves at my commandHave waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forthBy my so potent art. But this rough magicI here abjure, and, when I have requiredSome heavenly music, which even now I do,To work mine end upon their senses thatThis airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,And deeper than did ever plummet soundI'll drown my book.Beyond this connection, it’s fun if idly fruitless to try to expand the Prospero-as-Shakespeare angle. For example, Prospero, the Duke of Milan, was usurped by his brother. Was Shakespeare replaced as the king’s or the populace’s most favored playwright? Perhaps he was eclipsed by or had a falling out with Ben Jonson, who felt confident enough to be the first to publish a written collection of his plays (something Shakespeare never did) and who mocked Shakespeare and his Tempest subject matter in one of his own plays, Bartholomew Fair. As I said, it’s idle speculation, particularly when engaged in by someone unfamiliar with the time period. But the text does seem to encourage some autobiographical reading, and it’s certainly fun to consider the possibilities. One thing that continues to impress me about Shakespeare is his refusal to create blameless heroes. Even if we end up feeling very sympathetic toward someone, there's always something to nag us and remind us that this character isn’t irreproachable. In the Richard II—Henry IV—Henry V cycle, Hal has a remarkable and redemptive character arc, but he must abandon his rowdy friends most cruelly to achieve this. As someone who wants to love and celebrate Hal unreservedly, this fact is like a thorn that pokes me every time I cheer too loudly during the St. Crispin's Day speech. Like Hal, Prospero has a troubling relationship that mars his character. As mentioned above, he was usurped. But then he became the usurper, enslaving an 'uninhabited' island's sole inhabitant (and therefore the ruler of sorts), Caliban, and treating him harshly. (For the record, Caliban's witch mother usurped the original fairies of the Island, Ariel et al., when she was dropped off by some sailors while pregnant.) The story of the enslavement is morally complicated, it's true. Caliban was apparently well-treated, if still usurped, before he attempted to rape Prospero's daughter, thus leading to the mistreatment and his begrudging service as we encounter them during the three hours of the play (side note: Before Jack Bauer and 24, Shakespeare had already created a drama where the play length occurs in real time). There's also the troubling distinction between Prospero's two slaves, Caliban and Ariel. Caliban, a hideous semi-human monster, is rude and bitter and therefore 'deserves' his slave state and cruel treatment, while obedient Ariel is set free at the story's end. But because Prospero is leaving the island to return to Milan at the conclusion, even Caliban can look forward to freedom once again. And so in the end, Prospero wins us over with his capacity for forgiveness and his desire to do everyone a good turn, while only desiring to finish off his days in Milan “where/Every third thought shall be my grave.” While he spends much of the play spooking those who’d wronged him with spirit visitations and magical scenes, he eventually leaves anger and vengeance behind. Interestingly, it’s the nonhuman spirit slave Ariel who encourages Prospero to be humane and compassionate:ARIEL Your charm so strongly works 'emThat if you now beheld them, your affectionsWould become tender.PROSPERO Dost thou think so, spirit?ARIEL Mine would, sir, were I human.PROSPERO And mine shall.Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feelingOf their afflictions, and shall not myself,One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my furyDo I take part: the rarer action isIn virtue than in vengeance.Perhaps this suggestion had to come from a nonhuman since treating kindly those who’ve wronged us can seem most unnatural. Shakespeare seems to recognize that this type of forgiveness, especially offered to those who have intentionally affected one’s life for the worse, is exceptionally difficult to bestow. But he also seems to recognize that overcoming this difficulty is well worth it, perhaps more for the sake of the forgiver than that of the forgiven.
Do You like book The Tempest (2004)?
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”Believed to have been written in 1611, this may have been one of his last plays. The mature bard, he would have been 47 at this time and with only 5 more years left in this world, created in my humble opinion one of his finest plays.“...and then, in dreaming, / The clouds methought would open and show riches / Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked / I cried to dream again.”Telling the tale of shipwrecked Prospero, the sorcerer Duke of Milan, and his daughter Miranda and his spiritualistic (but wholly Shakespearean opportunistic) machinations to restore his family to their rightful place.“O, wonder!How many goodly creatures are there here!How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,That has such people in't!”Of course, the island is also home to Calaban, and here is where Shakespeare’s genius is shown. Calaban is the earthly foil to Prospero and Ariel, providing a historic off stage depth to the narrative."a southwest wind blow on ye and blister ye o'er".Complete and tightly wound yet entertaining throughout. Prospero may be one of the most complicated and interesting of all of Shakespeare's characters, and his relationships with Miranda, Ariel and Caliban make for literary legend. Very entertaining. Finally, this is simply, beautifully written and a joy to behold.“Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.”
—Lyn
I think this is the most beautifully written of any Shakespeare play, of whatever category. Tragedy, comedy, tragi-comedy, etc. Nothing beats it in terms of the magic that it induces in the audience. Shakespeare is literally able to conjure magic with these words, and it brings tears to my eyes to read it. I think Prospero is one of the more heartbreaking characters. Mostly, perhaps, because of the analogy to Shakespeare. The final speech gets right to the heart. The master at the peak of his powers bidding farewell to his audience. God, this is why Shakespeare is Shakespeare. This play.
—Kelly
I've not written much of anything about Shakespeare's individual plays for GR, mostly because the in-depth reading I did of them was a long time ago (my senior dissertation in college was on Hamlet)- but I can't let such a wondrous piece of writing as The Tempest go unremarked upon. It is thought to have been written around 1610, that is, around 400 years ago, and also thought to be Shakespeare's final play- there are subtle textual biddings-adieu from the Bard throughout- and to my mind, it is, centuries on, one of the most beautiful and profound documents of what might be accomplished with the English language. It is a play situated between worlds- between ocean and land, between dream and waking, between magic and realism, between the New World and the Old (copious metaphors dealing with the emerging idea of America, as it morphs into a Thing in the European consciousness, can be found punctuating everywhere the text)- it is a play about the simplest, most broad subjects, which, nicely for playwrights, are yet the most complex- love, family, mortality, political intrigue, the mystery of undiscovered places, the shadowy regions of the world and the imagination, the reckoning with the unknown- it contains grotesqueries such as Caliban and Sycorax, as well as beauties such as Miranda and Ferdinand, there is the tree-sprite Ariel (whom I think of often whenever I walk in the woods), whose purpose is to make games of our low human destinies, and there is Prospero, lord and sorcerer of our island, which is of course our stage, and he the Bard of it, and there is even a most famously minimal appearance by a Boatswain- showing that even those minor players make their worldly impact. Mostly, there is Magic, Fate, Time, Destiny, Freedom- the eternal riddles, summed and totaled forever in the body of work of Shakespeare, a body of work timeless and inexhaustible, that found its last place of dwelling here, washed up on the shores of a weather-beaten island where the wicked and the virtuous enact one more fantastical drama, which ends, so appropriately, with a gradual convergence of all souls, with all being released from the bonds which have shackled their existences in this desolate place, and the promise of departure to New Lands, or departures home, and the drowning of a Book coupled with the promise of another story yet to be told, offstage. It is an example of metafiction, which has always been with us, as you well see. It reckons with the darkness or goodness of our souls, and how that moves within us and makes us live, and comes to the unspeakably important conclusion that in the end it is forgiveness that allows us to move unfettered toward the ones we love, toward the places we might yet be free, even if they be across storm-wracked oceans of time...
—Geoff
