Water everywhere

Water is no doubt a central image in Shakespeare’s, The Tempest. In fact the play begins with a shipwreck at sea. But, aside from the cliché representation of water as a cleanser or baptismal, Shakespeare uses the image of water to represent the cycles of rebirth. Prospero, who was usurped, summoned the sea storm by threatening Ariel. The storm and the restlessness of the ocean, represents the chaos, the anger and the problems that are to come with the less than merry crew.  In fact Miranda’s fear for the lives of the sailors in the “wild waters” (I.ii.2) causes her to weep, which further signifies and foreshadows of the future tears that will be shed. It also represents the beginning of birth. Birth is (not from personal experience) supposed to be painful and unpleasant. There are many complications that can develop and fears that doctors and patients have alike during a birth. When the Mariners entered wet and bothered by the others, who did not know how to help prevent the ship from sinking, were given almost a blessing from the sea to be the, “doctors” that try to reassure the family that everything is going to be okay, but they need to do their jobs. They, (the mariners) at that one moment, were able to speak down to the nobles and do whatever they can to stop the problem and bring, “peace” back to the ship. But aside from the birthing imagery, the water also represents rebirth through death.
When first exiled with Miranda, Prospero suggests that he could have drowned the sea with his own tears when he cried over his lost dukedom and his past.  "When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt" (1.2.18). Again, his past is dead and with the past threat of him almost dying Prospero, must find another life and identity. The death of the past Miranda and Prospero, gave birth to the new versions of the characters. Furthermore Ferdinand, upon hearing Ariel's song, knows it refers to his father's certain drowning:
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange (1.2.20)
Ariel's song leads Ferdinand to believe that his father has drowned and is lost to him forever. Not only that, but the song suggests that his body has been transformed into something unrecognizable. Giving  the further image that now that everyone and everything is dead, you must renew yourself. The water is no longer just a symbol of death, it had renewed them to find something different about themselves and to continue to live. Each of the characters are slowly learning that their fate in the island cannot be relied upon the fact that their past will eventually help them. Instead each of the characters must learn to find their own lives and their own ways to live through this tragedy and become something better.

The Human Desire to Obtain Power: A Look into The Tempest

Throughout dramatic writing, the character’s internal desire for power often creates a large amount of the drama involved within the work. Shakespeare’s dramatic works are no exception to this rule. Many of Shakespeare’s characters are drawn to immoral actions by this tempting appeal of power, including Claudius in Hamlet, Macbeth, and many more. In The Tempest, the theme of power takes on an extremely central role as many of the character’s become consumed by the idea of achieving influence in society. This play therefore uses the isolated setting of an island to highlight and intensify the depiction of this strong human desire-- the desire to obtain power at all costs. 

In 3.2, we see that Caliban has a problem with surrendering to the power of Prospero, and is willing to help Stefano and Trinculo in their plan to destroy him. Caliban says, “As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer that by this cunning hath cheated me on the island” (3.2.40-41). Here, we see that the tension between master and servant arises when there is an abuse of power, and the servants feels like the master has overreached their boundaries. Caliban takes his master’s tyrannical actions as an invitation to rise against his power. He therefore believes that by obtaining power for himself, he will have more influence and control over the establishment of justice in society. 

While Caliban’s desire to achieve power is rooted in his vengeance towards Prospero, Antonio and Sebastian are characters who are simply consumed by the glory associated with achieving power. They want power for the mere sake of controlling the government of the island, and not having to bow down to Alonso and Gonzalo’s rule. There are essentially resistant characters who do not handle authority well. In 2.2, they immorally plot to kill Alonso and Gonzalo as a means to open the way for their own social climbing. In 2.1, Sebastians says, “But for your conscience” (in reference to Antonio’s immoral actions to gain more power). In response,  Antonio says, “Ay, sir, where lies that? If ‘twere a kibe/ ‘Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not deity in my bosom...” (2.1.272-274). Here, we see that Antonio does not care about the moral implications of achieving political power, and feels no remorse for taking advantage of the power Prospero granted him. Instead he expresses his desire to obtain a greater influence in society at all costs. This example shows us that even those characters with power have a lust for more. Power therefore has an addictive component, and tends to blind the characters of their moral obligations to themselves and others. 

So far in The Tempest, power struggles have been extremely prevalent and morality has been absent in many of these power-hungry characters. While characters, such as Caliban, have some background motives driving them to immoral action, other characters merely allow themselves to become consumed by their internal desire to obtain power. By setting this play on an island, Shakespeare therefore creates the ideal, confined space in which the truth and tragedy of human desire can be exposed.

A Game of Chess

Of the plays we have read, I would probably consider The Tempest to be my least favorite. As I finished the reading, though, I did pick up on one interesting thing that I thought would be good to bring up. I think the fact that Ferdinand and Miranda are playing a game of chess at the end of the play, in Act V, is quite interesting. There has to be a reason why Shakespeare chose to have them play a game that requires the capturing of a king. The game somewhat parallels the story because at this moment in the play, Prospero has “captured” the king. The game is symbolic because he has gotten Alonso right where he wants him. He tricked him and, in a sense, reprimanded him for what he did to Prospero in the past. In this, he has gotten Alonso’s son to fall in love and promise to marry Miranda without the king’s own knowledge. This was smart of Prospero, for Alonso will most likely not argue or show to be unsupportive. After being so upset at the thought of having lost his son, he is more likely just to be happy that he is still okay. 

What began as a tumultuous storm at the hands of Prospero, has become a series of strategical moves.  Prospero has managed to maneuver the various people around the island just as chess pieces move across a board at the hands of a skilled player. He has made all of his moves and successfully done what he set out to do. 

I find it interesting that Shakespeare chose this game to be the one Ferdinand and Miranda would be revealed playing by the end. It is impressive that one scene in the play can have so much meaning and foster a better understanding of the play altogether. Did Shakespeare just happen to choose chess, or was the game meant to symbolize what I have discussed? These things are what make literature and writing so intriguing. This is especially true due to the lack of information and the almost mysterious ways of Shakespeare.

Politics! Monsters! And a foreign island of magic!

Politics, monsters, a foreign island of magic and a epilogue/prayer, wow Shakespeare has certainly changed up the usual format of his plays for The Tempest.
It was interesting to see Prospero’s transition between each type of control. First having political control of Milan (losing it through distractions and manipulation) to harnessing the magical powers of the island and taking servants of Caliban and Ariel and imprisoning Alonso, Antonio, and Sebastian. To finally releasing control of the island and handing his freedom to the audience was quite a compelling switch.
Has his treatment of others changed for each new position? Also who is he placing in responsibility for his actions? By asking the audience to applaud him I felt it was reminiscent when he asked his brother Antonio to rule Milan for him.
(The epilogue also reminded me of Puck, at the end of Midsummer, when he asks the audience to think of the play as a dream.) If the magical play of island forces and spirits was only a dream, who is held responsible for the actions (pain to Prospero’s prisoners and servants? )

Reflection left over from last week: Politics! As we talked about in class last week The Tempest offers a TON of political commentary! It sure was interesting to hear how it was a commentary on the times! Our class question of "Can you take the social structure of England and put it in a new place?" is super interesting- especially considering how we have historical answers/examples to this question.
I continued thinking about the question and then asked myself is the social structure that England (and other world powers) recreated in colonized lands still there?

I also wonder:
Did Prospero give up the right to rule his country when he left his brother with all of the legwork of running a nation?

One of the most interesting things I noticed while reading was how many of the men hoped to create a society where there was no structure and they did nothing but lounge around all day! Gonzalo's "commonwealth" was a place of major relaxing, is this about convenience or more representative of the lack of government on the island?

How do we further historical traditions of imperialism and slavery today? Just as Prospero used the island and Caliban for his advantage do we take similar steps today unknowingly?
This video has very little to do with Shakespeare but might help in understanding our original question of “Can you take the social structure of England and put it in a new place?", maybe it addresses the result of trying to transplant and support certain places.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aF-sJgcoY20&feature=player_embedded
A note on commodities trading: At the end of the play Antonio notes how Caliban can be marketed.

"The Tempest" closes in the face of A Brave New World

Miranda's reaction upon being unveiled to Prospero's captives and seeing even more people on the island for the first time, "How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world / That has such people in’t!” (3111) is of course an expression of her naivety, but I suspect it is also a wry statement of Shakespeare's injected here. Miranda is receiving traitors, fools, and honest men all together in equal delight; I interpreted this moment as a positive affirmation that humanity, capable of as much baseness as virtue, is something one must marvel at (and forgive, as Prospero did), rather than condemn.

I don't know if I'm on track with this interpretation- that one should wonder at humanity's vastness and not just curse its deficiencies- because it seems like too gargantuan a statement to make for this play. However, our last class discussion touched upon the idea that Shakespeare might have intended to have The Tempest stand out from the others. The Tempest is unique in that it stays grounded in one location, in real time.
I did some light research and found that in the assumed chronology of his plays, The Tempest was first printed much later in Shakespeare's career in 1623, whereas one of his earlier plays, Henry VI, was supposedly printed in 1594. Judging from this, I would venture to think that after decades of creating a medley of characters and people, from the fantastic to the degenerate, Shakespeare might have been in a sentimental mood and was sitting at his desk ruminating on the nature of mankind in general. (I also imagined a candle flickering beside his quill and Shakespeare gazing into the face of the moon.) In any case, I found this final act to be an intriguing one.

As for the epilogue, Prospero seems to begin by stating he no longer practices magic, "what strength I have's mine own" (3115), yet he pleads for the audience to praise and love him. My first reaction to this epilogue and appeal from Prospero was confusion- does Shakespeare need to stoop to begging to get an applause? (Kidding.)
My only guess of the meaning of this epilogue comes from Prospero's lines, "Now I want spirits to enforce/ art to enchant/...unless I be relieved by prayer/ which pierces so, that it assaults/mercy itself/ and frees all faults..." (Lines 13-18, 3115) Again, this might he an overly sentimental interpretation, but where we have just witnessed Prospero demonstrate some sweeping acts of forgiveness among the men who betrayed and imprisoned him in Act V, Prospero seems to be using the epilogue to spotlight the power of mercy as the closest force next to magic that has the power to free men. Prospero has no more spirits, imps, and magic spells, but he as well as all people can get along without magic as long as we practice goodwill and forgiveness.


(sources: http://www.shakespeare-online.com/keydates/playchron.html, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chronology_of_Shakespeare's_plays)

The Calm After the Storm

The Tempest opens and the audience is in no doubt it is outside of its known existence. In this world a boatswain can boldly say, “What cares these roarers/ for the name of king? To cabin! Silence; trouble us not (1.1.15-16),” to the King’s counselor. This storm is no storm that rises suddenly, we discover, it has been brewing for a long time. The tempest, of the title, can be taken literally and figuratively.

The play begins in the middle of this violent weather condition. The seamen are fighting the elements for their lives and quite possibly their souls. The first scene of Act I ends violently with the mariners crying out, “Mercy on us!/ We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children!/ Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split! (1.1.54-56)” This is a chaotic moment as Miranda cries out to her father, Prospero, who she feels he is inflicting his powers upon a helpless vessel traveling on the sea- “The sky it seems would pour down stinking pitch,/ But that the sea, mounting to th’ welkan’s cheek/ Dashes the fire out (1.2.2-5).” Prospero comforts her about the fate of the men but he cannot ease the discomfort of this storm.

The storm has been building for years we discover as Prospero confesses his identity to Miranda. The tempest began when Prospero confesses that, “The government I cast upon my brother,/ And to my state grew stranger, being transported/ and rapt in secret studies (1.2.75-77).” This transference of duty upon an unworthy brother is the ill wind which sets this storm on its course. Even his description of how he was thrust out of his kingdom reads like a dark-and-stormy-night tale. “… A treacherous army levied, one midnight/ fated to th’ purpose did Antonio open/ The gates of Milan; and, i’ the’ dead of darknes,/ The ministers for th’ purpose hurried thence/ Me and thy crying self (1.2.127-132).”

Antonio and crew face the same fate as Prospero and Miranda twelve years after this deed. They are set out on a cruel sea and find themselves washed up on the same island as Prospero. Antonio, Alonso, and Sebastian, who all prospered from the Antonio’s greed, experience the same confusion and grief that Propero and the young Miranda would have during their voyage. The same kind of confusion felt by the seamen on the ship continues once the main cast is set on the island. Shakespeare skillfully puts the innocent sailors to sleep leaving us with the raging emotions of the rest of the players.

During the feast, in which Alonso, Antonio, and Sebestian are confronted with their past sins against Prospero, Shakespeare continues with the storm imagery as the three men draw their swords against Ariel who is described as descending disguised as a harpy. Ariel mocks them saying, “You fool! I and my fellows/ Are ministers of fate. The elements/ Of whom your swords are tempered may as well/ wound the loud winds, or with bemocked- at stabs/ Kill the still-closing waters…(3.3.60-64)” Their swords are useless against the impending judgment they set in motion in the city of Milan twelve years earlier.

It is interesting that it is Alonso, Prospero’s sworn enemy, who is the first to understand the meaning of this storm. “Me thought the billows, spoke and told me of it,/ The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,/ That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced/ The name of Prosper. It did bass my trespass (3.3.96-99).” It is the acknowledgement of this crime that culminates in the calming of the storm.
The tempest is not a destructive force but one of redemption. Prospero, in taking his rightful place as Duke of Milan returns the audience to a recognizable world. In a wonderful touch, Shakespeare has Prospero, in the epilogue, grant the audience the power to send this story back to the world of the familiar. “Now I want/ Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;/ And my ending is despair/ Unless I be relieved by prayer,/ Which pierces so, that it assaults/ Mercy itself, and frees all faults./ As you from crimes would be pardoned be,/ Let your indulgence set me free (Epilogue13-20).” Prospero finds a benevolent wind in the applause of Shakespeare’s audience for his voyage home.

Caliban & Miranda

Like Othello, Caliban is a character who is always being characterized/acted upon by others. We first meet him indirectly,  through Prospero, as “Caliban, my slave,” and Miranda as “a villain, sir” who she “do[es] not love to look on.” The very first words that follow his name brand him as a slave and villain. This identification of the character through the descriptions of others continues when he meets Trinculo and Stefano. Act II provides us with a deluge of  nouns with which Caliban is designated: fish, islander, dead Indian, devil, savage, a present, cat, servant, moon-calf, subject, and most often, monster. His identity transforms from that of an animal to something supernatural to a definitive and lesser “other.” Stefano and Trinculo never once affirm Caliban as a man, (indeed when Trinculo utters the word in relation to him it is followed by a question mark and Stefano’s use of it is “man-monster”), while Caliban only identifies himself as such when he’s addressing Prospero, telling him to “get a new man” -- meaning get a new slave. The word’s signification, then, is changed when applied to him: it does not mean “man” as in “human being” but “man” as in servant, as in being who is able to be bounded. (Caliban also calls himself Cacaliban; where does his name come from? Did Sycorax give it to him, or is it something Prospero imposed on him?) The irony of Trinculo associating Caliban to an animal (and the play’s general characterization of him as being close to nature, which is illustrated through his willingness to show both Prospero and Stefano how to live on the island) is that Caliban is being tortured and tormented by that very nature. Prospero uses the supposed abundance of the island--which Gonzalo fantasizes will sustain his utopia of idleness--and animals/nature (apes, hedgehogs, adders) against “his slave”  in order to control him.    
Caliban’s dehumanization is highlighted by the fact that both Trinculo and Stefano immediately see him in terms of profit: Trinculo affirms that if he were in England he would display him so that he could fetch “a piece of silver” and even though Stefano does not mistake him for an animal he still understands that “he shall pay for him that hath him, and soundly.” Both commodify him, both immediately recognize him for the profit that can be derived from him and so his ownership of self never even has the chance to be questioned--he is immediately and always belonging to others. Their fascination with Caliban’s body (“Legged like a man and his fins like arms!” “some monster of the isles with four legs”) and their insistence on displaying him for scopophilic fulfillment in return for monetary gain recalls the historical practices of early modern England, where natives would be brought over to the motherland to be ogled and marveled at, which in turn reminds me of the popularity of travel narratives in the 18th century. In fact, much of this play is reminding me of Robinson Crusoe, a text that was written over a hundred years later.
Like when Antonio remarks that “past is prologue,” Trinculo’s and Stefano’s interactions with Caliban are constrained by the past: they act towards him the way they know their fellow Englishmen have acted in similar situations. Likewise, Caliban’s past experiences with Prospero dictate his interactions with the two fools. He only knows Prospero as someone who exerts power over him, someone who hurts him. When the two fools don’t hurt him, then, they are comparably much better thanProspero--they are gods, and if they are gods and he already serves Prospero, then the only relationship he can have with them is also one of servitude. Interestingly, while everyone else in the play is trying to attain power, Caliban at first seems to be giving power/submitting to it by calling Stefano his god. A closer look will reveal that he may actually be doing the exact opposite: by calling Stefano his god he rejects Prospero and establishes his own agency. Also, he’s using Stefano to get rid of Prospero (“Revenge it on him”); he’s so far been unable to kill Prospero and now he wants this newcomer to do it for him. This is emphasized by how he gets his “god’ to punish Trinculo. He uses a kind of divide-and-conquer technique with the two, wherein he allocates more power to Stefano, thereby giving Stefano the right to enforce that power over Trinculo, as evidenced by when he demands that Stefano “give him blows/And take his bottle from him,” which makes Trinculo lower in hierarchy than even Caliban. As subject he must show deference to Stefano, but as leader/King, Stefano has responsibilities he must see to, the same responsibilities that Prospero ignored when he was Duke of Milan, and the same responsibilities Gonzalo hilariously divests himself of in his utopia. It makes me question Stefano’s claim that “His daughter and I will be king and queen.” If Caliban would not allow Prospero to own the island, then would he allow Stefano? I cannot help but notice how much “monster” sounds like “master.”

Both Caliban and Miranda are subject to Prospero. While Miranda calls him “father” Caliban calls him “master” and the only thing that keeps the two words from being synonyms is that Prospero pets one while he tortures the other. Just as he determined Caliban’s relationship with Stefano and Trinculo, he determines Miranda’s relationship with Fredinand. He doesn’t simply determine it, he orchestrates it. What is most disturbing about their relationship is that Prospero controls her desire (like Oberon did to Titania in AMND) and  she is not free to relieve that desire ("At mine unworthiness that dare not offer/What I desire to give, and much less take/What I shall die to want.”) Like Caliban, Miranda has tangible worth. She is valued for her virginity and she is aware of it: “my modesty, the jewel of my dower.” But how did Miranda come to value her “modesty” so? Was it because Caliban tried to rape her? That certainly colors it, but I believe it is also because Prospero taught her to value it. We have been emphasizing how Miranda has taught Caliban to speak and how that is in effect a way of controlling his identity and his worldview. But who taught Miranda? She was a baby when she came to the island. Prospero taught her. Prospero gives language to both Miranda and Caliban, and like his paradoxical relationship with Ariel in which he sets him free only to enslave him again, his “gift” allows his Miranda and Caliban to speak while simultaneously marking them as living within the world he's constructed. Their language is a tool of both subjugation and insubordination. Caliban curses as a way to lay claim to a language that is not his own; Miranda does the same by disobeying her father by giving her love to Ferdinand. It is a hollow claim on her part, because in the end she is simply doing as he wants her to, but the crucial fact is that she remains unaware of this; in her mind she really is rebelling against him. Unfortunately she seems to be establishing another disturbing relationship with a male in which she’ll either marry Ferdinand or "die [his] maid." He has similar sentiments for her, and I have to ask, is there no way to express love without making oneself subservient to the loved one?

Throughout the play it is Caliban who is portrayed by various characters as “the other.” However, they also recognize him as a native of the island. Caliban insists that the island is his, that Prospero stole it from him. If when we are in England foreigners who come to the country are made to be others, then why is it that on this island the foreigners who arrive are still the norm against which the native is measured? Should not Prospero, Miranda, Stefano, etc, with their initial ignorance about survival on the island and their preoccupation with the world outside of the island be the “others” in The Tempest? Or does the island remain simply a representation/metaphor for England itself?