Prospero
Prospero is one of Shakespeare’s
more enigmatic protagonists. He is a sympathetic character in that he was
wronged by his usurping brother, but his absolute power over the other
characters and his overwrought speeches make him difficult to like. In our
first glimpse of him, he appears puffed up and self-important, and his repeated
insistence that Miranda pay attention suggest that his story is boring her.
Once Prospero moves on to a subject other than his absorption in the pursuit of
knowledge, Miranda’s attention is riveted.
The pursuit of knowledge gets
Prospero into trouble in the first place. By neglecting everyday matters when
he was duke, he gave his brother a chance to rise up against him. His
possession and use of magical knowledge renders him extremely powerful and not
entirely sympathetic. His punishments of Caliban are petty and vindictive, as
he calls upon his spirits to pinch Caliban when he curses. He is defensively
autocratic with Ariel. For example, when Ariel reminds his master of his
promise to relieve him of his duties early if he performs them willingly,
Prospero bursts into fury and threatens to return him to his former
imprisonment and torment. He is similarly unpleasant in his treatment of
Ferdinand, leading him to his daughter and then imprisoning and enslaving him.
Despite his shortcomings as a man,
however, Prospero is central to The Tempest’s narrative. Prospero
generates the plot of the play almost single-handedly, as his various schemes,
spells, and manipulations all work as part of his grand design to achieve the
play’s happy ending. Watching Prospero work through The Tempest is like
watching a dramatist create a play, building a story from material at hand and
developing his plot so that the resolution brings the world into line with his
idea of goodness and justice. Many critics and readers of the play have
interpreted Prospero as a surrogate for Shakespeare, enabling the audience to
explore firsthand the ambiguities and ultimate wonder of the creative endeavor.
Prospero’s final speech, in which he
likens himself to a playwright by asking the audience for applause, strengthens
this reading of the play, and makes the play’s final scene function as a moving
celebration of creativity, humanity, and art. Prospero emerges as a more
likable and sympathetic figure in the final two acts of the play. In these
acts, his love for Miranda, his forgiveness of his enemies, and the
legitimately happy ending his scheme creates all work to mitigate some of the
undesirable means he has used to achieve his happy ending. If Prospero
sometimes seems autocratic, he ultimately manages to persuade the audience to
share his understanding of the world—an achievement that is, after all, the
final goal of every author and every play.
Just under fifteen years old,
Miranda is a gentle and compassionate, but also relatively passive, heroine.
From her very first lines she displays a meek and emotional nature. “O, I have
suffered / With those that I saw suffer!” she says of the shipwreck (I.ii.5–6),
and hearing Prospero’s tale of their narrow escape from Milan, she says “I, not
rememb’ring how I cried out then, / Will cry it o’er again” (I.ii.133–134).
Miranda does not choose her own husband. Instead, while she sleeps, Prospero
sends Ariel to fetch Ferdinand, and arranges things so that the two will come
to love one another. After Prospero has given the lovers his blessing, he and
Ferdinand talk with surprising frankness about her virginity and the pleasures
of the marriage bed while she stands quietly by. Prospero tells Ferdinand to be
sure not to “break her virgin-knot” before the wedding night (IV.i.15), and
Ferdinand replies with no small anticipation that lust shall never take away
“the edge of that day’s celebration” (IV.i.29). In the play’s final scene,
Miranda is presented, with Ferdinand, almost as a prop or piece of the scenery
as Prospero draws aside a curtain to reveal the pair playing chess.
But while Miranda is passive in many
ways, she has at least two moments of surprising forthrightness and strength
that complicate the reader’s impressions of her as a naïve young girl. The
first such moment is in Act I, scene ii, in which she and Prospero converse
with Caliban. Prospero alludes to the fact that Caliban once tried to rape
Miranda. When Caliban rudely agrees that he intended to violate her, Miranda
responds with impressive vehemence, clearly appalled at Caliban’s light
attitude toward his attempted rape. She goes on to scold him for being
ungrateful for her attempts to educate him: “When thou didst not, savage, /
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like / A thing most brutish, I
endowed thy purposes / With words that made them known” (358–361). These lines
are so surprising coming from the mouth of Miranda that many editors have amended
the text and given it to Prospero. This reattribution seems to give Miranda too
little credit. In Act III, scene i comes the second surprising moment—Miranda’s
marriage proposal to Ferdinand: “I am your wife, if you will marry me; / If
not, I’ll die your maid” (III.i.83–84). Her proposal comes shortly after
Miranda has told herself to remember her “father’s precepts” (III.i.58)
forbidding conversation with Ferdinand. As the reader can see in her speech to
Caliban in Act I, scene ii, Miranda is willing to speak up for herself about
her sexuality.
Prospero’s dark, earthy slave,
frequently referred to as a monster by the other characters, Caliban is the son
of a witch-hag and the only real native of the island to appear in the play. He
is an extremely complex figure, and he mirrors or parodies several other
characters in the play. In his first speech to Prospero, Caliban insists that
Prospero stole the island from him. Through this speech, Caliban suggests that
his situation is much the same as Prospero’s, whose brother usurped his
dukedom. On the other hand, Caliban’s desire for sovereignty of the island
mirrors the lust for power that led Antonio to overthrow Prospero. Caliban’s
conspiracy with Stephano and Trinculo to murder Prospero mirrors Antonio and
Sebastian’s plot against Alonso, as well as Antonio and Alonso’s original
conspiracy against Prospero.
Caliban both mirrors and contrasts
with Prospero’s other servant, Ariel. While Ariel is “an airy spirit,” Caliban
is of the earth, his speeches turning to “springs, brine pits” (I.ii.341),
“bogs, fens, flats” (II.ii.2), or crabapples and pignuts (II.ii.159–160). While
Ariel maintains his dignity and his freedom by serving Prospero willingly,
Caliban achieves a different kind of dignity by refusing, if only sporadically,
to bow before Prospero’s intimidation.
Surprisingly, Caliban also mirrors
and contrasts with Ferdinand in certain ways. In Act II, scene ii Caliban
enters “with a burden of wood,” and Ferdinand enters in Act III, scene i
“bearing a log.” Both Caliban and Ferdinand profess an interest in untying
Miranda’s “virgin knot.” Ferdinand plans to marry her, while Caliban has
attempted to rape her. The glorified, romantic, almost ethereal love of
Ferdinand for Miranda starkly contrasts with Caliban’s desire to impregnate
Miranda and people the island with Calibans.
Finally, and most tragically,
Caliban becomes a parody of himself. In his first speech to Prospero, he
regretfully reminds the magician of how he showed him all the ins and outs of
the island when Prospero first arrived. Only a few scenes later, however, we
see Caliban drunk and fawning before a new magical being in his life: Stephano
and his bottle of liquor. Soon, Caliban begs to show Stephano the island and
even asks to lick his shoe. Caliban repeats the mistakes he claims to curse. In
his final act of rebellion, he is once more entirely subdued by Prospero in the
most petty way—he is dunked in a stinking bog and ordered to clean up
Prospero’s cell in preparation for dinner.
Despite his savage demeanor and
grotesque appearance, however, Caliban has a nobler, more sensitive side that
the audience is only allowed to glimpse briefly, and which Prospero and Miranda
do not acknowledge at all. His beautiful speeches about his island home provide
some of the most affecting imagery in the play, reminding the audience that
Caliban really did occupy the island before Prospero came, and that he may be
right in thinking his enslavement to be monstrously unjust. Caliban’s swarthy
appearance, his forced servitude, and his native status on the island have led
many readers to interpret him as a symbol of the native cultures occupied and
suppressed by European colonial societies, which are represented by the power
of Prospero. Whether or not one accepts this allegory, Caliban remains one of
the most intriguing and ambiguous minor characters in all of Shakespeare, a
sensitive monster who allows himself to be transformed into a fool.
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